#I have a surgeon that I’m actually working with so it’s not a pressing issue

[mntds]

The raw audacity of the surgeon I contacted to keep sending me add for plastic surgery without ever responding to my actual inquiry

[biblically-accurate-pirates]

tips for writing law as a surgeon in a modern AU

the US medical system, and especially medical training, is a mess of incomprehensible rules and timelines. surgery training ESPECIALLY. and accurate information can be weirdly hard to find! so without further ado, here's a list of random factoids that i thought would be vaguely useful to have in one place

Some basic terms: 

Attending: boss doctor, fully trained and certified. Often intimidating. 

Resident: worker doctor, still finishing training. They usually do the majority of the actual work in surgeries, especially as they advance. 

Intern: first-year resident. Their schedule is slightly different because every intern in every specialty has to meet a few requirements. They’re also limited in what medications they prescribe until they take a big test (usually at the end of the year).  

Junior resident: first 2 years of training. They do more of the paperwork (writing notes, calling other doctors, admitting patients) and floor work (changing wound dressings, seeing new patients, checking on old patients if there’s an issue)

Senior resident: 3+ years of training. They check on the juniors to make sure they’re doing everything right, and generally do more operating and interacting with the attendings. 

Chief resident: resident on their last year of training/just out of training. In many specialties there’s only one, but usually, every 5th year surgical resident is a chief. Treated as attendings in many cases, they also build the schedule for the other residents. 

Fellow: fully certified doctors doing additional training in a sub-specialty. Common surgical fellowships are trauma/critical care surgery, colorectal surgery, surgical oncology, and cardiothoracic surgery. 

Service: a team of doctors from one specialty who admit, operate on, and follow up with patients for one specific problem. 

On service/off service: “on service” residents are working on the team within their own specialty (a surgical resident who’s working on the general surgery team this month). Off-service residents are on a team outside of their primary specialty (an anesthesiology resident on the general surgery team). Anesthesiology, urology, plastic surgery, transitional year, and sometimes family medicine residents have to rotate through surgical teams. These residents pretty much never operate and only handle paperwork and floor work.  

Please, for the love of god, forget everything you saw on Grey’s Anatomy

I’m begging you. It’s so inaccurate.

Scrubs is decent tbh  

Dating patients is a HUGE no-no, especially for surgeons. Surgeons and psychiatrists are the two specialties where it is a top-tier ethical violation to ever date anyone who has ever been your patient. With other specialties (especially in rural areas) it’s generally okay, though still a little frowned upon, to date someone who’s a former patient, but you also can’t ditch someone as a patient just to date them. 

Also: surgeons deal with poop so much more than you can imagine. Would you, a normal person, ever want to date someone who wakes you up at 5am to ask you very seriously if you’ve pooped yet, press super hard on your still healing incisions, and leave? No. You would not. 

Surgical training is long AF. in the US you need to get through a bachelor’s degree (3-5 years), a MD/DO degree (minimum 4 years, often longer), general surgery training (minimum 5 years, up to 7 pretty regularly if people do research), and maybe fellowship (about 2 years). That’s a minimum of 12 years of training, after graduating high school at 18 years old. If you’re writing law as an attending (boss doctor) he’d need to be at least 30 years old, and if you’re writing him as a specialist he’d need to be 32. 

Attending schedules vs resident schedules: 

Residents work around 80 hours a week, often more. They switch services every month, and work all over the hospital. The work year starts in July and ends in june. Residents get either new years or christmas off, never both. residents have to get an average of one day off every week, and having both weekend days off is called a “golden weekend”. Also, most surgeries are at seven AM, so residents get to the hospital around 4:30/5am to see patients, write notes, and get ready for the surgeries. 

Attendings have more control over their schedule. Surgeons still work over 40 hours a week, more if they’re on a busy inpatient service. Generally, when they’re not covering the inpatient service, they’ll have 3-4 days a week of operating, a day of clinic, and a day of administrative work or research if they’re doing other projects. Attendants also take calls, which is when they supervise residents and do emergency surgeries for 24 hours straight. If they’re lucky they don’t actually spend the full 24 hours awake and working, but they’re rarely lucky. On some services, (especially trauma) there is Q3 or Q4 call, which means the surgeons work 24+ hours every 3 or 4 days. It’s brutal. 

What certain specialties actually do:

This is very Law specific and one of my pet peeves. “Heart surgeons”, who are cardiothoracic surgeons, are kinda boring imho and don’t fit the law's vibe. (all cardiothoracic people will, of course, disagree with me). They do some very cool, very intense open-heart surgeries, but they also do pretty much everything inside the chest cavity. So that means things like repairing a hernia in someone’s esophagus, or messing with the diaphragm. But that’s all pretty controlled surgery and they’re very limited in what else they can do. 

Trauma surgeons, on the other hand, are “emergency room surgeons”. They’re the ones who handle all of the super serious surgical injuries that come into the emergency department. They’re the ones who will fix someone if they have a gunshot wound and are bleeding out, or stabilize someone who was hit by a truck and broke all of their bones, or will open up someone’s chest cavity and use their hands to physically squeeze a heart to make it start beating again. They’re wild. They’re also usually chronically sleep deprived and have a thick veneer of “i give no fucks”. Very law.

anyway WOW that got long but i hope this was helpful to someone!!!

[space-mermaid-writing]

Ironstrange - they meet pre-ironman and stick with each other through it all/sarcasm all the way pointing out each others flaws and working on it together.

This is a lot of ground to cover, so I offer you snippets :) Also, this somehow became a songfic halfway through. 'Through the years' by Kenny Rogers, because the lyrics are so very fitting.

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 0.8k (plus the song lyrics)

I can't remember when you weren't there When I didn't care for anyone but you I swear, we've been through everything there is Can't imagine anything we've missed Can't imagine anything the two of us can't do

The first time they met was at a medical conference. Stephen was there to give a speech. Tony was there to donate money and to party, and because Pepper had forced him to make an appearance. It was good press for SI or something like that.

For once he had decided to listen because he remembered medical students to be big party animals.

Well, it turned out that changed after they graduated college and worked real jobs. It wasn’t the worst party he had ever been to but he was still very bored.

That was until a young doctor approached him at the bar and flirted with him bluntly. Tony was flattered – still he didn’t intend to make it too easy for the man. No matter how handsome he was.

“So you’re some kind of surgeon prodigy? That don’t impress me much.”

“Shania Twain, 1997. Although loosely interpreted.”

Tony didn’t indicate with any reaction if he had actually planned to make it sound like those lyrics. But he did gesture to the barkeeper to bring a drink for Strange; and that had to mean something.

It gave Strange a boost of confidence. “I will have you impressed by the end of the night.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement. He had wanted to pick apart Tony Stark’s brain ever since he specialized in neurology. And now he had the chance.

Through the years, you've never let me down You've turned my life around The sweetest days I've found, I've found with you Through the year, I've never been afraid I've loved the life we've made And I'm so glad I've stayed right here with you Through the years

“Why do you have to go to Afghanistan for that demonstration?” Stephen asked – again. “Rhodey said it would be perfectly fine to do it in Nevada.”

Of course Rhodey – that traitor – had told him that. The two had joined forces against him on this issue.

“Because I can,” he replied – again. “It’s called customer service.”

Stephen looked away. “I think it’s the worst idea you ever had and that you are an idiot for doing this.”

Tony saw it in Stephen's face that he wasn’t happy about his answer. They had already argued so much about this, and Tony was tired of it.

What Stephen and he had wasn’t a relationship. Not really. Both had agreed on that. And this was part of why.

“Thanks for establishing that. You’re welcome to leave anytime.” Like everyone else did who was fed up with Tony. There always came the point when people no longer tolerated his bullshit.

Stephen’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you go that easily.” He was neither impressed by his words nor his behavior.

Tony let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. He preferred arguing to Stephen walking out of him.

I can't remember what I used to do Who I trusted, whom I listened to before I swear, you've taught me everything I know Can't imagine needing someone so But through the years it seems to me I need you more and more

Tony was standing in Stephen's apartment. It felt familiar yet odd. Things were still in the same place as before he had left, but something seemed to have changed. He was exhausted by the past month he had lived in that hidden cave.

It took Tony far too long to realize what that was: there was no trace of him in the apartment anymore. Before there had been small items scattered all around: a book, tablets, clothes… it was all gone. And Tony didn’t know what that meant. He had been gone for months and he didn’t know if Stephen had moved on in the meantime.

Tony felt vulnerable because maybe for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to say. He couldn't predict Stephen's reaction.

“So you got kidnapped in Afghanistan. That don’t impress me much,” Stephen finally said in his best ‘I told you not to go’ voice.

Tony smiled, still tired, as a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Through the years, through all the good and bad I knew how much we had I've always been so glad to be with you Through the years, it's better every day You've kissed my tears away As long as it's okay, I'll stay with you Through the years

“It’s going to be alright.”

Tony meant it, but for Stephen it was a lie. He didn’t see how he could ever be alright again. He was ruined. He had lost his hands – the single most important part of him.

“Spare your breath,” he hissed coldly. He didn’t want to hear Tony’s words of comfort. They meant nothing to Stephen.

Tony sighed, his eyes on the golden ring on the table next to his husband's hospital bed. Stephen wasn’t able to wear it, his hands were still bandaged. Maybe he would never be able to wear it again. Even without the promise Tony had made on the day he had given the ring to Stephen, he wouldn’t waltz out just like that.

“Nice try. But I won’t let you go that easily.”

Through the years, when everything went wrong Together we were strong I know that I belonged right here with you Through the years, I never had a doubt We'd always work things out I've learned what love's about, by loving you Through the years

Tony took in his husband's appearance; the goatee, the blue robes, and the subtle muscles under them. He looked good – far better than the day Stephen had run away to Nepal on a whim. It seemed like he found what he had been looking for and Tony was glad to see him in a better place.

Still, it didn’t hurt to grill him a little more; just as a revenge for the radio silence.

Tony crossed his arms. “So you’re a wizard now? That don’t impress me much.”

Through the years, you've never let me down You've turned my life around The sweetest days I've found, I've found with you Through the years, it's better every day You've kissed my tears away As long as it's okay, I'll stay with you Through the years

They were on Titan and their chances to win looked rather slim. Still, there was hope; as long as they stuck together through it.

Tony stepped next to Stephen as they watched together Thanos arrival on that vast planet.

“So you’re that purple grape that gave me nightmares for years?” His nano-sunglasses were back on his nose for the sole purpose to look over their rim judgmentally. “That don’t impress me much.”

He heard Stephen roll his eyes.

[froizetta]

20 Questions for fic writers!

Tagged by @ginbenci! Thank you! :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

12! All since last August

What’s your total A03 word count? 134,798

What fandoms do you write for?

So far just DCU, but I like a lot of things! I will branch out one day, when the brainrot loosens its grip.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Padam Padam - superbat, E (7.5k)

Batman's heartbeat keeps speeding up whenever Clark is around. For instance: when Clark greets him, half-naked, on a Gotham rooftop. Or when he uses his superstrength to save a busload of schoolchildren. Or sometimes even just when he smiles. Clearly the poor man is terrified of him.

By far my most popular fic! Probably because it found it's way to tiktok (this still feels wild to me). Despite the fact that borderline crack and I wrote it in about 3 days, it has twice the number of kudos as the fic below in this list. Or perhaps it's because I took the idea from a tumblr post rather than coming up with it myself? Hmmmmm.

2. An Honest Conversation - superbat, E (60k)

“So Bruce’s longtime best friend had suddenly decided to start eye-fucking him at random. So what? Bruce was used to being the object of this kind of attention. It didn’t bother him. It was—should have been fine. The issue was that it was Clark, and Bruce had enough trouble remaining rational about him at the best of times.” or Bruce and Clark go from friends to lovers the long, long, long way round. Featuring a number of revelations, a well-meaning but nosy son (Dick) and, most prominently, two adult men being completely and utterly useless.

My first fic, and the closest one I have right now to a magnum opus! It started off as a silly oneshot and then got surprisingly angsty towards the end (although no less silly tbh, that's apparently just my whole vibe as a writer).

3. Hiding In Plain Sight - superbat, T (3.5k)

Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet, is clearly just Superman wearing glasses. For some reason, no-one but Bruce can see that. There is a distinct possibility that Bruce has lost his mind.

Written for Bruce Wayne Week 2023, as are the rest on this list! Written because...well. He totally is just wearing glasses. I'll happily suspend my disbelief, but I'm still not letting it go, damn it.

4. Holding Onto A Hero - superbat, T (2.5k)

Clark squinted sleep-tired eyes and frowned. “B? Everything okay?” And then Bruce shivered. In a fraction of a second he was beside the bed, and in another he was settling a knee onto the mattress and wrapping his arms around Clark’s waist, cowled face pressed into Clark’s chest. “So,” Clark said conversationally. “I’m gonna go ahead and take that as a no.”

The prompt was cuddle pollen, and it really is just a short-n-sweet, soft, cuddly, getting together fic. Also, I got to insert a little vague allusion to neuroscience, which is always nice (although oxytocin doesn't actually work like that, the effect is sex-specific and increasing it can actually promote aggression in some- okay, okay, I'll shut up).

5. More Fun Than Counting Sheep - superbat, E (5.5k)

When Bruce can't sleep, Clark proposes an unconventional solution. (The solution is sex.)

The prompt I took was sleep-deprived Bruce. Nothing about that suggested it should be smut, and yet here we are. I wrote this because I thought it would be funny to have Clark try to seduce Bruce into sleeping (and for it to work), and honestly? I stand by that.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm none of them really. Maybe A Stitch In Spacetime (Gen, 4.5k - in which Batman meets a version of himself whose parents never died so he became a surgeon like his dad). But only because the ending is more hopeful than actively happy. Batman has still lost Jason, but he's finally trying to heal; Doctor Bruce still wants kids he doesn't have, but maybe after this that will change. (Also, unrelated but I'm really proud of the title for this one lol. I love a pun, what can I say.)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, they're most all happy, but probably An Honest Conversation? Just because the finale was INCREDIBLY sappy, and there was a lot bullshit preceding it that they had to get through, which certainly made the ending cathartic to write!

Do you get hate on your fic?

Not yet! Apart from a couple of slightly iffy comments, everyone has been lovely. But then, I'm not writing anything particularly controversial lol. Hopefully the trend continues outside of genfic and superbat.

Do you write smut?

Yes, a lot lol, nearly half of my fics are E-rated. Look, if I write a romance in which the pairing solves some kind of relationship issue and grow closer as a result, some part of my brain is always gonna be thinking, "Hm. What if they banged about it?" Also, I love a sex comedy, so there's that too.

Do you write crossovers?

No. I don't think I'm into any fandoms right now that I would WANT to cross over tbh. I've read my fair share, though!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I'd theoretically be open to it! I think it would be tricky in practise though, unless you an your co-writer are really on the same wavelength. Even writers I really like don't necessarily write in the same style as me, so that could create difficulties.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I mean. Superbat right now for sure. I'm usually a multishipper, but for whatever reason they have a death grip on me. I'm still basically an omnivore though!

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmm, this feels like a very defeatist question since I do plan to finish everything I start. Probably the fic I started writing for a friend's birthday based on a premise we discussed nearly a decade ago. It's a wholesome romance between two of the sidest side characters in Haikyuu!! (Tanaka Saeko and Tsukiyama Akiteru, for the curious; they do interact, but barely), because my friend was there with her Charlie Kelly conspiracy board saying, "They're both in uni! They're in the same prefecture! They knew each other in high school! They're both older siblings of main characters on the same team, so they can go watch the matches together! There's so much to work with!!!" This has apparently been her lowkey white whale ever since, but she's never managed to write it, so I offered to have a go. Tragically, them being SUCH side characters means I have to all but invent a personality for one of them, which makes figuring out their dynamic a lot harder lol. But I still want to finish it one day, for her sake!

What’s your writing strengths?

Comedy I think, specifically deriving humour from awkward situations (that I have made up) - and often it's the quiet chuckle kind rather than the knee-slapping kind. But YMMV on whether anything I write is actually funny! I can only hope :')

What’s your writing weakness?

Well, I have lots of things I don't feel good enough to write (e.g. long, dramatic epics that I can't fill with jokes), but I mostly haven't wanted to try so I wouldn't say that's a weakness per se. And I have plenty of little things I feel like I need to work on, but none are an easy-to-identify kryptonite-style Weakness. Probably flow and pacing, as it's something I'm very particular about (especially for comedy, where imo it needs to be correct for it to work) but it doesn't always come naturally to me. I do a lot of rounds of editing trying to tweak things so they flow right. Hopefully that will come easier with experience! I'd be fascinated to know what other people thought my weakness was, though; it's often hard to judge yourself, since you're the audience you're writing for.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In what sense? As in, for example, writing a French-speaking character in French in an otherwise English-language fic? I think that's appropriate when the POV character doesn't speak French, but perhaps can be avoided if they do, as then the average reader is understanding as much as the POV character is.

As to whether I personally would do it, I only really speak one non-English language at a decent level, and even then it's hard to convey nuance in any language you're not fully fluent in. So only sparsely, only if necessary, probably only if I could get a native speaker to check it.

First fandom you wrote for?

I think it was Free!, the anime about the swimmer boys. Back when I was a teenager in school, probably ~16, I anonymously posted a gen crackfic on the LJ kink meme based on an experience I had with some schoolfriends, where a few of us tried to give a less birds-and-the-bees version of The Talk to a sadly uneducated member of the group during a camping trip. (Our school did actually give proper sex education, with the putting expired condoms on dildos and everything, but didn't go into the specifics of, say, doggy style). ANYWAY, that was the only thing I'd ever posted until this year, but apparently my proclivity for writing sex-related comedy has remained unchanged lol.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Man I don't know. I just did a similar tag thingy that asked this, and I wasn't sure then, and it feels boring to put the same answer twice? So I'll pick another that's my favourite for a different reason: Master of All Trades (Bruce & Hal, T, 4.5k). I think of all my fics, it has the highest ratio of good to not-that-deep, if that makes sense? Writing Hal's POV was incredibly fun, and I think it turned out really well! And it's definitely one of the few I can reread without cringing lol (reading your own writing after posting it is just embarrassing somehow).

Tagging: I nominate @burins and @unbreakabledawn, but literally 0 pressure at all!

[nerdynatreads]

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book review || ARC Reading Vlog -- Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly & The Plus One by Mazey Eddings

~Thanks to Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of The Plus One in exchange for an honest review. ~

wow, okay, I see you Mazey Eddings, starting this book off with a bang when Indira walks in on her boyfriend with another woman.

I knew this was fake dating, which dissipated pretty quickly, and a smidge of enemies to lovers, but was not aware that Jude was Indira’s older brother’s best friend, and I think that’s really the main trope this book should be sold as. It doesn’t feel like they hate each other, just that they bicker a lot. We see their relationship improving as they begin to react more maturely toward one another pretty early on. Indira can tell something is off with Jude and is doing her best to be there for him in difficult times without pressing, which leads to some very sweet and intimate moments between them— cuddling and handholding. Though sexual tension has also taken a jump after Jude ends up walking in on Indira after a shower. And holy shit, when they finally collide, it’s hot and heavy, only for things to become that much more entertaining when they remember this is supposed to be a fake relationship. It just gets better when we finally reach the smut. It’s spicy but also has some fantastic lines around Jude’s mental health. And the smut just gets spicier!

There are a ton of therapy positive discussions since Indira is a therapist and also is working through her own therapy as well. She’s trying to process her abandonment issues as well as her struggles with working as a therapist when she doesn’t feel qualified due to her own issues not being resolved. I’m definitely feeling like Jude could probably benefit from some therapy as well. His POV is a lot more difficult to read, as he constantly feels on the edge of a panic attack and is suffering from PTSD due to his work in active war zones and dealing with the loss of patients while working as a surgeon. I love that Indira tries so very hard to be there for Jude, but doesn’t want to be his therapist, she just wants to be somebody he trusts enough to talk with. She stands up for him when he folds because he doesn’t want to be perceived as not normal, which nearly made me cry at one point, I won’t lie.

I did realize that part of why I enjoy Jude’s personality so much is because he reminds me of Josh, but he’s also just so smitten with Indira, and every time we see more of that, I just swoon harder. However, it did feel like we lost that personality in the latter half of the book. His chapters were completely revolving around his PTSD, making him feel more one-note. Truly, what has me so obsessed with these two though, is the emotional intimacy and tenderness they show toward one another. The way each of them is there for the other at some deeply personal and emotional moments is so sweet, making their romance feel so authentic that I didn’t bat an eye at an “I love you,” when they’d only been dating a month.

I would like a little more from Collin, Indira’s brother, and Jude’s best friend, but what we’ve seen so far of him is cute and funny, plus I actually believe these three must have grown up together. Eddings was smart enough to include little moments here and there to reinforce these three’s previous relationship, but also some adorable bigger moments, like when Indira collects her things from her ex’s apartment and Indira and Jude look through some of her childhood diaries where she complains about him, thus bringing up sweet memories. However, there is this ongoing tense discussion between Collin and Indira when it comes to their father which did grind my gears but also feels like it’ll have a pretty predictable resolution once we arrive at the official wedding.

The ending… was fine? It’s as though Eddings realized she’d set up all these additional side plot elements that she forgot would need wrapping up after the wedding ended. So the last three chapters were really odd in terms of pacing, with multiple time skips and quick wrap-ups, that just felt really rushed and weren’t given the time for me to really enjoy them. Especially in regard to the epilogue. We see a little bit more of the friend group this series has followed, but it just wasn’t a satisfying send-off, unfortunately.

[cyborg-franky]

Can I have something fluffy with gn reader x Law please? <3

I WENT ABIT MAD ON THIS. Law is like my best boy. I even have Law tats haha. so writing him after so long I was very nervous. I hope you like.

Law x GN reader SFW Fluff/Angst Words: 1,558 Not proof read oops

You had always wanted to go to sea, being a pirate wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking when it came to visions of the wide-open sea, beautiful sunsets and amazing adventures. But adventures you got regardless of the unforeseen career option. Your only real complaint apart from the dangers of the job was the fact that you felt lonely, being a Straw Hat pirate was great, you loved your crew but there was no one you felt a deep connection with, not the type you’d always longed for, someone to hold your hand, share a bed with.

That was until you’d met the surgeon of death, you didn’t think someone as harsh as him would have been your type. The way he always seemed pissed off and irritated at even being around your crew, the fact he just needed your captains help and had formed a hasty alliance that every moment of every day you thought he deeply regretted the choice, that much was always clear on his face.

You were shocked he didn’t have wrinkles with how much his brows were permanently furrowed, even when the man ate at dinner with you all, the way his stern expression never left his face. Whenever you’d glance at him you always thought he would be so much more handsome if he smiled.

Just like everyone that you’d come across during this new life of yours, Law was no exception, scars of a tragic past remained on his soul. You couldn’t blame him for that and at least he wasn’t ever nasty or ill willed towards anyone. He seemed to even get along with some of the crew. The less intense members.

Thinking back to the first night you really made progress with the heart pirate you recalled how it changed the way you thought about him. It had been late into the evening, everyone settling down to their own devices.

You knocked on Chopper’s office door, opening it before you got an answer, often the small medic had issues rushing from his chair and to the door to open it so you always just stepped in. “Chopper can you look at this for me?” you asked closing the door.

“The Doctor went to bed an hour ago.”

You gripped the doorknob, that deep voice certainly didn’t belong to the sweet fluffy reindeer, you took a breath, why didn’t you just wait for a response like a nice normal and polite person? You had never been in a room alone with Law until now. Taking a breath and telling yourself that your hand wasn’t going to get any better by just going to bed.

“Oh, sorry” cradling your sore hand close to your chest your eyes darted around everywhere you could to avoid looking at him.

He was sat at the doctor’s desk, a medical textbook open, a pot of coffee at his side. His normal irritated expression however wasn’t present, his brows relaxed, his whole posture in fact looked lazy, his long legs stretched under the table, he looked comfortable in the chair, like he was on his own ship.

“I can look at it.”

“Huh?”

He turned to face you, cocking his head to the side to give you his full attention, his gaze rested on your chest, or rather the aching hand you clutched there, feeling your own beating heart as he nodded for you to come forward.

“Are you sure?” You looked at the comfy stool next to his desk, inching towards it.

Your hesitation made him laugh, actually laugh, it was such a nice sound you decided, deep but smooth, you’d never heard him make any show of amusement, he hadn’t even cracked a smile in all the time you had known him. But here he was, the very person who had the reputation of being a twisted individual, a current warlord for gods sake, the surgeon of DEATH in fact, smirking at you as you nervously sat down where he’d gestured.

“I am still a doctor you know” another chuckle as he straightened up in his seat.

“I know I don’t look like one, but my father was a doctor, I learned a great deal from him, it’s not just my devil fruit that affords me my gifts” Law explained and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to go on.

“Sorry, I know you shouldn’t believer every rumor that floats out at sea, if I believed everything the papers or drunks in bars said I’d think my captain was the devil but I’ve seen that man with chopsticks up his nose, I’ve seen him sleeping like a baby, he’s no devil” You knew your nerves had turned into rambling, feeling your palms sweat at being so close with the other captain but his soft chuckle, under his breath, trying to be discreet. But you’d heard it, such a nice sound you mused feeling a little more at ease around him now.

“So?”

“Well, my hand hurts, ever since I climbed down from the crows nest about three hours ago, I think I got it tangled in the ropes as I slipped a little” You explained. Law nodded his head before he held his tattooed hands out.

You held your hand out for him, he gently took it in both of his, long nimble fingers moved over your digits, feeling different parts, he was surprisingly gentle, his hands warm and welcoming. You couldn’t help but stare as he expertly examined your aching hand. You felt your gaze drift from his hands, up his arms and towards his face. His expression was like nothing you’d ever seen on the warlord. Soft. The way his tired eyes looked over your hand, he seemed happy to help, in his true element.

If not for whatever plagued him in his past, would he have been happy just being a village doctor? He seemed at peace right now. You allowed yourself to smile, your heart beating faster for an entirely different reason then when you’d set foot into the doctor’s office.

His grey eyes met yours when he pressed a certain painful part of your hand and you yelped. He clicked his tongue pressed a little harder, flexing your hand in his grasp. You bit your lip and focused on where your hands met.

“Sprain”

“H-huh?”

“You sprained your hand” He pulled his hands away and you hated how your heart dropped at the loss of contact.

“Oh..”

Law pushed his chair out and stood up, walking around the doctor’s office and looking for things, opening a few draws. You did your best to stifle any laughter from watching the very tall man try navigating his way around storage designed for a very small reindeer. It was comical.

“Avoid using it wherever you can for starters” he explained pulling out a small box and returning to the desk. “Ice will help it; you should have come to me sooner about it but” yeah, he was a doctor alright you mused as he took your hand once more. “Ice for twenty minutes every two to three hours will help with the swelling, I’m going to bandage it up right now, a compression will help support your hand while it heals, I suggest elevating it as much as possible.”

You nodded along while watching him work on your hand, he did so much damage to people, you’d seen some of the things he was capable of, he was terrifyingly powerful. But the way he held your hand still, being firm but gentle was a side you didn’t think someone who’d swapped out people’s body parts and rearranged souls for what seemed like fun could ever be capable of.

“Come to me tomorrow morning and I can re-do it if needs be” you wished he’d hold your hand longer, but he moved to get something else, a little cup which held two pills.

“For the pain”

“Thank you” You watched him pour you a glass of water and handed it you, aiming for your good hand. You gulped the medication he’d given you and drinking the water to chase it down you let out a sigh.

Law simply nodded in response to your gratitude, saying nothing more as he got comfortable in his seat once more, taking a swig of his black coffee, no wounder the man never slept, you stood from your seat and excused yourself with a small ‘goodnight’ closing the door.

Walking along the deck, just the sound of waves lapping against the ship to keep you company. You turned the corner and pressed yourself against the wall, your newly bandaged hand laid over your heart as you stared out to sea, watching the moon shimmer across the dark surface of water. You felt your lip tremble.

The feeling you’d wanted all your life, the tight feeling in your chest, the fluttering of butterflies, all-encompassing feeling and desire to be by someone’s side. You were in love. You were in love with Trafalgar Law of all people, and you knew this wouldn’t end well for you.

You bit your lip, slowly sinking to your knees on the wooden deck of the ship. You could feel tears prick your eyes. This was going to hurt, worse then never knowing what it was like to long for someone.

[unforth]

…okay I don’t think I’m going to manage another prompt fill today, my brain just won’t boot, but I guess that means this is as a good a time as any to explain what the fuck is going on. I’ve already talked about it on like three of my Discord servers but I know I have a lot of mutuals on here who aren’t in any of those servers so.

I’ve been having issues with my back on and off since my mid 20s. I didn’t have insurance then so I didn’t do anything about it, and when I did get insurance at 31 it wasn’t a priority. However, after I had a really bad flare up while I was pregnant with our second kid, it became a higher priority. When I had another flare up and wasn’t pregnant, so I could actually get testing, I went to an ortho urgent care. They did an x ray, said nothing was wrong, and told me I should get painkillers. So I went to my PCP, said I thought I needed an MRI, and they said that would never get approved by insurance and they sent me to PT. That was about 3.5 years ago. I did the PT but since my flare ups never lasted more than 6 weeks, and the PT was a six week course, obviously I was “cured” by the PT, so every time I had a flare up any attempt at care was met with, “go to PT.” And considering that first round of PT 1. Didn’t help and 2. Cost me $750 out of pocket cause insurance didn’t cover it…yeah I didn’t do that. My flare ups got more and more frequent, from once every few years in my 20s, to once every year, to more than once a year. This year, one last winter never fully faded.

By summer I had steady low level pain and stiffness but I could manage through it so I just ignored it. That started intensifying in October, and I thought it was a full new flare by November, except the pain was different than past flares - more intense, more constant, much harder to ignore and work through. It also had a strong radiating sciatic component that was fucking ow. And it got steadily worse. I spoke to my PCP about a month in; she offered PT and I said no. She got me naproxon for pain and baclifen as a muscle relaxer. It didn’t help. She told me if it didn’t fade in six weeks I should call again. Which I did, a few days before Christmas, when it was clear that far from fading, it was getting steadily worse. I couldn’t stand long enough to do the dishes without incapacitating pain; Christmas night I drove my mom home and couldn’t make my foot depress enough to press the brake. That was. Well it’s a good thing moms house is only a few minutes away. I haven’t driven since then cause I have only gotten worse. She referred me to a specialist I chose because of their good reputations and my wife’s knowledge of them,

I talked to the specialist about everything last Thursday, and finally, after four years of me telling any doctor I could that I thought I needed an MRI, I had my first ever MRI on Monday. The specialist also gave me much better meds, which at least have meant I slept; by the night before my appointment I was in so much pain that sleep was literally impossible; I spent the night curled in a ball on the couch playing Minecraft and wishing any position would hurt less cause I was so tired. (I’d hardly slept three other nights that week for similar reasons).

Anyway, yesterday I had my follow up with the specialist to discuss the MRI results and, uh. I guess my first appointment I didn’t do a great job of explaining just how much pain I was in, because she was very much talking about PT and related treatment. After looking at the MRI she said, I’m going to see if the surgeon is available to speak to you literally right now (unfortunately, he wasn’t). She still hedged bets and said the surgeon might not recommend surgery, but after she said that she spent the entire rest of the appointment discussing surgery so. She clearly thinks I need surgery. I have a herniated bulging disc between my L4 and L5 vertebrae which has caused spinal stenosis, which is leading to the pain, tingling, growing weakness, etc. in laymens terms, the disc is all fucked up and it’s pressing on my spinal cord. It’s basically just a matter of time now before I start to risk permanent nerve damage (I’m not there yet but could easily get there). I wasn’t even able to get an appointment with the surgeon yet, because his regular calendar is full for weeks out, and they need to talk to his secretary to see if he can squeeze me in much sooner, but she won’t be back in the office until Monday. In the meantime, she gave me a list of conditions that, should I meet any of them, I should immediately go to the ER, tell them what’s going on, and the surgeon on call would do the surgery instead (the spine folks I saw are part of the hospital, and the four surgeons they have are the four on call surgeons at the ER, and they’re all good, so this isn’t going to get me worse care). She also made it sound like, given staff shortages caused by Covid and scheduling issues also caused by Covid, there was a pretty high chance I’d have to use the ER option.

All of which is to say, I need major surgery on my back and I’ve been in continual pain for about 2 months.

I’m currently on ludicrous amounts of medication, and yesterday she added prednisone to the mix, and that’s what’s just. Completely knocking me out. I was doing okay before that but today I really am just reverting to my natural boneless blob state on the couch…and I’m still in pain and can hardly stand.

I have no idea when my surgery will be, since I could theoretically meet one of the “go right now” criteria at any time. We’ve made what arrangements we can, and will be making more as we’re able, but…yeah. It’s a lot. I’m actually relieved about the surgery itself, since I’ve been dealing with this for so long, and I’ve been so sure I had a herniated disc and that I’d need surgery to fix it, and sure enough I was right, and if they’d listened to me sooner, I might not be in this mess now, but oh well. The surgery has a very high success rate and if I do PT and stuff after odds are I’ll be pain free and back to 100% once I’m through the recovery, so this isn’t a bad thing, I mostly just wish I could fucking get it over with again.

I am. So tired.

(I also can’t sit at my computer literally at all anymore; I’m doing everything from my iPad rn, which is why everything I write is full of typos and weird auto corrects, and I’m sorry.)

(This is also why I’m behind in literally everything I’ve said I’ll do. I’m sorry. I’m trying.)

[winterscaptain]

permanent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: just in case you missed it, i published a family tree for the hotchners! at this point, jack is married to bella and living in d.c. she’s a journalist for the washington division at the new york times and is generally pretty awesome. as always, lemme know what you think!

words: 3.1k warnings: language, hospital setting, canon-typical injury

summary: “write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble” - benjamin franklin. au!december 2035

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Come on, Soph! Go, baby, go!”

Your daughter is a vision. She streaks across the field, her green and yellow uniform almost melding with the grass as she keeps control of the ball. You can’t see her face too clearly, but you know she’s scanning the field with the same intensity you see in Aaron’s face beside you. 

Isaac plops down on the bench behind you, home from Los Angeles for winter break. “How’s she doing?” 

Aaron half-turns his head, keeping his eyes on the field. “Going for a hat trick - if she makes it, it’ll be her third this season.” 

“Excellent.” 

Caroline, down the field with her choir group, lounges happily between the legs of one of her friends, eating popcorn. When she sees you looking, she waves at you.

You wave back for a moment before your attention’s caught by a collective gasp and Aaron’s hand shoots to your forearm. You turn back to the field, but you missed it. 

Everyone’s moving and you don’t know why. 

With shocking agility for his age, Aaron all but leaps down the bleachers and onto the field. Your eyes search for Soph, but there are too many people on the field, all of a sudden. 

Caroline’s standing on the seat of the bleachers, her friends steadying her with their hands on her arms and ankles. 

There’s a hand, soft and scared on your shoulder. “Mom?”

You open your arms, and your nearly-grown son ducks under it, curling into you as you stand. “Do you want your earbuds?” 

You feel him nod and you pull them out of your bag. His trembling quiets a little after he fits them in his ears. 

There’s a clamber, and Caroline appears at your side. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching.” 

She exhales, shaky and worried. “Where’s Dad?” 

“On the field.”

But where? 

You find Aaron, his salt-and-pepper hair stark in the autumn light. He’s talking to the referee, his brows low. 

You hear sirens. 

+++

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Mom?” 

You almost hate to ruin his mood. 

“Jack, honey, can you get down to the house at any point tonight?” 

You try not to grip the handle above the car door too tightly as Aaron races through the suburban streets, following the ambulance. Soph was definitely lucid when they loaded her up, but definitely in a lot of pain. 

“Ye - Yeah...Why?” 

“Soph’s headed to the ER - something happened on the soccer pitch today and her knee…” You shake your head. “I dunno. Her knee looks really bad.” 

“Fuck. Okay.” You hear him shuffle around and click his mouse - checking his schedule. “I can get down there after my last meeting at four - I’m headed there in a few minutes, but won’t be able to swing any earlier. I’d cancel it, but it’s literally SecDef and the Joint Chiefs and -” 

“That’s fine - I just need someone at the house with the kids until one of us can get back. Elliot’s at baseball practice until six and I’m not sure if -” 

“I’ll be there. I’ll get El and then I’ll swing by for Isaac and Caro if they’re still with y’all down there.” 

You glance over at Aaron and nod. He heaves a sigh of relief and mouths Thank you. 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

“Yeah. See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.”

+++

When you’re finally allowed in to see Sophia, her eyes are red and puffy with tears. Her right leg is braced and elevated at the knee. 

Her doctor explains the situation - dislocated knee and splintered patella with a torn meniscus and ACL. “This kind of traumatic knee injury poses a couple of issues…” 

He explains that the rehabilitation and surgery needs for both the ACL and meniscus are exceedingly different, and “It’s entirely possible Miss Sophia will experience permanent joint damage. However, we won’t know that until we have an orthopaedic surgeon look at it tomorrow.” 

“What about sports? Can I still play?” Soph tries to sit up farther, but Aaron’s arm shoots out, locking her against the bed across her shoulders. 

The doctor looks hesitant, and it’s all she needs to burst into tears again. Aaron moves, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms. He looks over her head at you and your lower lip disappears into your mouth as you meet his gaze. 

You shift your attention to your other children sitting patiently behind you.

Caroline’s practically bit her nails to the quick - her hands looking more and more like her Aunt Emily’s as the moments pass. 

Isaac’s been sitting in the wide windowsill for the entire afternoon, his headphones on, staring out the window, his mouth tight and fingers tearing into the foam stress ball you keep in your purse. 

We’ll need another one of those. Or five.

 You get a phone call, and you step out. “Hey, Jack.” 

“Hey. Just got Elliot. We’re headed over to the hospital now. How’s she doing?” 

You sigh and press a hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, shit. That bad?” He asks. 

You don’t comment on his tell pickup. It’s in his blood, at this point. “Yeah. She’s definitely out for the rest of the season, and we’re looking at some long-term stuff, too.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Hey! I’m still here and she’s gonna kick your ass if you keep swearing in front of me, dude.” Elliot shouts from the back and it almost makes you smile. 

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you, Jack. We’ve got a dislocated and splintered patella in addition to a torn meniscus and ACL. It’s going to be a long rehab.” 

You hear a deep sigh into the bluetooth system in Jack’s car. “Well, I’ll stay here for the duration.” 

“No, no honey it’s alright. Your dad is home full-time and you’ve got a huge project reaching critical stages. Your room is all ready for you, but you really don’t have to hang around if you can’t manage the drive every day. And Bella -”

“Bells is looped in. She’s fine. She’s more than happy to tag out if we need to. Her deadlines are really loose right now what with the whole ‘nothing going on in Arlington’ thing this week. She’s heartbroken for Soph and wants to help where she can.” 

“Alright.” 

“Hey,” He huffs, sounding a lot like his dad. “I’ll let you go. I’ll text when I’m outside.” 

“Okay. Thanks, bud.” 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Anytime.” 

+++

Sophia’s sleeping when Alice and Hank come to visit later in the evening. Aaron went home a couple hours after Jack, planning to tag out with you later so you could get some sleep in your own bed before work tomorrow. 

Alice immediately embraces you, all but falling into your lap as you hold her. She’s shaking.

“Is she okay?” 

You push her back, smoothing some wayward edges at her hairline. “She will be.” 

Alice’s dark eyes fill with tears, and you brush them off her cheeks as they fall. 

“She’ll need your help, though. It’s gonna be a long time before we figure out what’s permanent and what’s not.” 

Alice nods and retreats, sitting in the plastic chair by Soph’s side, folding her arms on the mattress and laying her head on them. “Hey, Sofa,” she whispers, though Soph can’t hear her. 

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” you tell her. Sofa is a nickname Derek gave Sophia when she was little. No big meaning to it, but it stuck. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed there all night. 

Hank lingers by the door. In the shadow of the room, you could easily mistake him for Derek, but that concerned pull at the corners of his eyes screams Savannah. 

Eventually, he crosses the room and sits on the little lounger beside you. 

He takes your hand and you kiss his knuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted to spend your winter break, huh?” 

A little laugh leaves him. “Maybe not, but little Miss Thing over here dragged me out the door before I could get two words in edgewise.” He gestures vaguely toward Alice and you actually smile. 

“Yeah. In my experience, Morgan women don’t fuck around.” 

“You got that right,” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Savannah, fresh off her shift and still in her white coat and scrubs. She scours over Sophia’s charts and checks on her before sitting on your other side. 

“Do you want the bad news or the good-but-also-kind-of-bad news?” She asks, almost inaudible. You glance up at Soph but Savannah shakes her head. “She’s out - those pain meds will leave this entire visit a blur.” 

You sigh. “Fine. Hit me with the bad shit.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Savannah rests her elbows on her knees. “I’ve seen a knee injury like this exactly once before. No matter what you do, they can’t and don’t always heal right. She could need a mobility device permanently, even after she’s healed, and I can tell you now she won’t play again.” 

That’s okay. She’s okay. 

Better soccer goes than her life. 

Soccer is her life. 

You only know that Alice can hear everything when her shoulders start to shake. She doesn’t make any noise as she cries. She’s like her dad that way. Hank stands and places a hand between her shoulder blades, but says nothing. 

“Is that the worst of it?” 

Savannah nods. “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “The kinda good news is that she’ll be totally fine no matter what obstacles she may run into. She’s tough. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hotchner.”

She snorts. “Hell, I watched you bounce back from crazy life-threatening shit with a quip and a grin.” 

You raise your eyebrows and shrug. “I do what I can.” 

+++

Caroline curls into her father’s side, her double bed big enough to manage the both of them. It feels a lot like when she was little - she’d have nightmares or couldn’t fall asleep and Aaron would come and sit with her until her breath was even and slow.

“Dad?”

“Mhmm?”

“What’s Soph gonna do about college?” Caroline’s voice is small, nearly smothered in Aaron’s shirt. “She already has scouting offers and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure. We’ll all have to figure it out together, won’t we?”

+++

Aaron steps into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him. Alice, just as you predicted, snoozes next to Sophia, her head pillowed on her arms. Sophia’s upper body almost arcs around her and she managed to snag one of Alice’s hands in her adjustment. 

Those two…

Maybe he won’t escape the inevitable after all. 

Morgan-Hotchner? Hotchner-Morgan? 

He really only ever prepared to lose his name with Caroline. Soph always seemed far too… herself to take on a new one. 

We’ll see.

You’re asleep in the pull-out chair, your brow drawn and arms crossed over your chest. He approaches you as quietly as he can, putting his go bag down and sitting beside you. 

Much to his chagrin, you startle awake. 

“Sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” Talking through your yawn, you add, “Just had a weird dream is all.” 

Aaron pulls you close and you relent, tucking into his side with a hand pressed to his chest. 

“Did Savannah come by?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“What did she say?” 

You sniff a little, more from the antiseptic smell than any emotional response - that will come later. “Soph won’t be able to play again unless fuckin’ divine intervention or some shit comes along and fixes her knee from scratch, but she’ll be able to move around just fine with a cane or brace or something after a while.” 

Aaron can only imagine it now - fits and righteous anger about getting around the house, watching games from the bench - the list could go on forever. “She’ll hate that.” 

You hum in agreement. “Just another parenting challenge. Already have the rest of the gamut covered neurodevelopmentally, so we were bound to get a physical challenge at some point.” 

“Never more than we can handle.” 

Shaking your head, you note, “This one just might do us in.” 

+++

“I swear to God, if I see you in the office at all this week I’m gonna smash your kneecaps in.” Emily pauses. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You laugh a little and Soph sits up, her brow asking a question. 

You answer, pulling the phone away from your mouth. “Your Aunt Emily told me she’d smash my kneecaps if she saw me at the federal building this week.” 

Soph snorts. “Nice. We could match.” 

You reach over and tweak her nose. “We already match.” 

“Hey.” Emily grabs your attention again and you put your cell back to your ear. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be here. Stay home for Soph right now and I’ll sign off on it and turn everything in for you.” 

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you turned into Rossi, Miss I’m Past Retirement Age But Twisted the Bureaus Arm to Let Me Work Myself to Death.”

She laughs and hangs up, leaving you and Sophia alone again in the hospital room. She tucks back into her Jello, taking bites that are way too big. 

“How are you feeling, bug?” You brush her cheekbone with your thumb and she shrugs. 

“Can you hand me my headband?” 

You reach over and dig around in her back until you find the wide swatch of colorful fabric. She takes it from you and shoves it over her head, pushing her hair back with practiced ease. 

She’s just like her dad. 

What? Loyal? 

Yeah. But also chronically avoidant. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

She huffs, playing with her fingers. “I’m fine. I think.” Her breath is shaky. “I can’t really tell with all the meds I’m on, but it feels… really bad.” 

When she looks over at you again, her eyes are glassy, tearful. “I know I can’t play again, maybe not even run.” 

You reach out for her hand, but don’t say anything. 

“Momma…” She pauses, looking down at her blanket. “Momma, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I feel like I only know how to play soccer. I don’t know how - I don’t know if I want to do anything else. I’ve never thought about it before.” 

You run your thumb over her knuckles. “Soph, you can do so much. You have a great strategic mind - you think in these big, creative webs. It’s such an asset.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not profiling you, baby,” you tell her with a smile. “I just know that about you because you’re my daughter.”

Her mouth twists. “Right.” She looks down when her phone buzzes. 

“Who is it?” 

The corners of her lips tip up. “It’s Alice. She’s asking me if I want anything from the drive thru.”

You mirror her little smile. “That’s nice of her.” 

“Yeah.”

+++

“Alright so you have twenty nuggets, large fries,” Alice digs around in the bag, taking things out as she speaks. “And… a vanilla milkshake.” 

“God, I love you.” Sophia wraps her hand around Alice's head and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Alice laughs, deep from her chest. “Shit, Soph, if all I have to do to secure your love is get you crap chicken, sign me up.” 

“You could get damn close.” 

Aaron watches the girls sit beside each other in the bed, taking turns dipping their nuggets in the sauce. They’ve always been this way, exchanging barbs and affection in equal measure. Symbiotic in the extreme, one is never far from the other. 

You’re home, getting everyone else in bed and settled for the evening. Isabella drove in a night early - Jack’s headed back to D.C. apartment for a series of days-long meetings at the Pentagon regarding his latest project. 

Aaron’s excited to see her. It’s been a helluva thing to see his son married, even more surreal to know and love his son’s wife like his own daughters. 

His phone rings. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Bella.” 

Sophia looks over at the mention of her sister-in-law, and Alice looks beside herself with delight. As well as being a hit among the parents, Bella’s a winner with the kids, too. 

Some days, Caroline likes her more than she likes Jack. 

“Hey, Pops. Want to tag out?” 

“Sure. I’ll switch with you. How long do you want to be here?” 

He can almost hear her shrug. “Eh. I’ll spend the night. My column isn’t due until the end of the week and I’ve got it covered. Don’t need to work, don’t really need to sleep. Win-win.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

She hangs up before Aaron can respond, so he just pockets his phone and takes the loss. Sophia, after taking a sip of her milkshake, asks. “Is Bella here all night?” 

“Yeah, bug. She’ll be here.” 

Soph and Alice share a look. 

+++

“Well, Bella has more patience than I do,” Aaron says, dropping his go bag at the bedroom door. “She’s stuck with H&M for the rest of the night at the hospital.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad the girls have company, and fun company, at that.” 

“Fair enough.” 

The two of you quiet for a moment, and you tuck further under his arm, placing your hand over his heart. 

“Aaron?” 

His hand traces up and down your back, slow and steady. “Yeah?” 

“What can we do for her? She sounded so… defeated today.” 

And it’s true. You’ve never seen Soph like that, even at her lowest. If you were honest, it scared you a little. 

“We can be her parents. That’s all. And she’ll figure something out. If she needs to take a gap year, she’ll manage. She and Alice can search for programs together.” He sighs before he continues, leaning back to look at you. 

“All we can do is ask her what she needs and support her as best we can.” 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower​ @hotchslatte​ @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[promptprophet]

Welcome back

I am not dead, although I am ready to throw down. Okay so there is a lot under the cut, but by every star in the sky I have been gone from all of my blogs for a while due to some roccuring issues. If any follow my main at @prophet-rebellion then you may have noticed that.

Some pro-tips:

1. Do not attend a gathering with family that does not believe in Covid. Because if they are anything like mine, someone will tell them they tested positive, your Uncle will encourage them to come anyways and not tell a single other person - and then, surprise surprise, everyone ends up with Covid.

2. Do not let your advisor plan your schedule entirely. Even if they are the Dean of your department. Because if they are still like mine, they will give you six classes. Which would not be an issue of 18 credit hours if it were not for the fact that 5 or the 6 are writing enriched. The only one that it not is math-based which is not my strong suite anyways.

But, in other news - I took a toll for the worst at one point. It has since gotten better. Granted, I had to be the biggest pain-in-the-ass to the campus physiatrist because he wanted to revoke some of my medication. Just because I am somehow making all As for the moment does NOT mean that I do not need my ADHD medication.

Speaking of! Yours truly got formally diagnosed with combination ADHD, depression, and anxiety. And after a lot of trial and error, we have found a medication and dosage that actually helps with the latter two! ADHD is still a work in progress because he is fighting me on it. He also doesn’t want me taking my meds unless I have a face-to-face class that day - as if it is some 9-5 weekdays only issue and I do not have class outside of those times, or online ones. But! A work in progress!

Also, Covid gave me the perfect chance to drop an incredibly toxic group of people in my life. One one hand, my mental health is so much better for it, and so is my own sense of self worth. On the other, it is definitely hard to do and hard to adjust to suddenly losing so many people. But I have reconnected with my 14 year old sister for the first time in 5 years - she wants to have lunch. Which is nice considering I have no spoken to my sisters in 5 years for her, 6 years for the older one (the middle). And I am also trying to reach out to my brothers more. It is interesting, because I did not know them until later. I am the oldest out of 5, 2 half-sisters of my mom’s side, 2 half-brothers on my dads, ironically enough.

I am also seeking out a competent doctor even with Medicaid, because I know need two more surgeries. This will make surgeries 4 and 5. It should have been 2 at most. But 5? And that is minimum, not counting if anything goes wrong again. It is taking longer, because I refuse to see my prior surgeon, and the only opening this past winter break as when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, so, that did not happen.

Given circumstance I have managed to find a place to stay during breaks. Which is great because as some of you may recall I was kicked out after I turned 18 in 2019, and the room I rented over that summer was terrible (maybe leaving a known alcoholic with no regard for privacy alone with a just then 18 year old girl is a bad idea - if the number of times he barged into my room unannounced to try and get me to drink with him was anything to go by), but it was so my parents could travel full-time. Which, they are doing now and I am happy for them because my mom has 10 years maximum if she is lucky before needing oxygen (Smokers Lung), and my dad is dealing with medical injuries he got while serving - they discharged him because they would never heal right.

I have also picked back up with my job on my college campus! So money! And have secured a much better paying job over break than my McDonalds job, meaning I am not so hard pressed for cash. Which is also great because the last week of summer I had to dish out $2500 for my truck after it broke down in Tennessee and we had to get towed back to North Carolina.

So! Down to business! Now that I know what was wrong with me, and I no longer have issues with suicide, I’m on medication, and last semester I had a therapist that was a major help to me. I am actually in a better spot to be here. It has certainly taken a lot of work, and 2020-21 has thrown just about everything that it seems to have been able and hell, I am still looking for a third job.

Speaking of, god damn, the commissions! Jesus H. Christ, I wanted those done by January! And it’s March! Although I have been making progress on them, that is absolutely true - I am working on them a bit oddly though, switching between which ones I do to try and stop burn out and also because I was not drawing while mentally at my lowest. So to anyone who commissioned me who may not be looking at those messages, but sees this, I am sorry, they are being worked on. And I understand this is a ridiculous amount of time to wait for them and thank you all for being so patient.

I have also been considering if it is a good choice for me to come back to this page, and yes, I think that it is. Having something that I do every day has proven to be very helpful, and the amount of joy and love I have for these pages and the followers on them is immense. I was trying to clear out storage on my phone and I have an album just of prompts or asks that you guys have sent that continue to make my day. It really does mean the world to me.

I cannot be too sure if many have noticed my absence, if Prompt Guy did either. But I am stopping it now. I am finally in a good place. And yeah, I have a lot to do still - if all goes according to plan then I graduate next year. So after this I only have two more semesters before I graduate with my Bachelors in Business, with a focus on Entrepreneurship at the age of 20. And I better because I cannot afford to be in college much longer. I want to be back here, and return to my regular postings and interactions. I am getting those commissions done no matter what - that is a constant guilt over my head. Trust me, I know that it is there. I know. But I joined as an admin because I had followed this page the day it was created. And then I saw it had gone dead with no posts, so I applied as an admin. I got it. And things went very well. Well, I intend to hold back to what I wanted when I was first on this page, bringing it back to consistent postings for everyone.

I am here. I am back. And I am staying.

Also, I apologize if there are any typos, I have been doing a lot or writing for homework and personal work (trying to stop burn out and the threat of school ending my love to write) and my eyes have been strained the last few days, so everything is a bit fuzzy. Speaking of fuzzy! Turns out I needed glasses! So I have glasses now!

Yours truly, Prompt Prophet

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 56

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky don't recuperate for long.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

Wariness thrummed in your bones as you awoke, and when you opened your eyes, Bucky was already sitting upright and alert, brows dipped in concentration.

It wasn’t his movement that had jostled you awake, but his emotions flowing across the bond, as easily felt as your own. It should have been weird—what kind of person wanted to share their deepest emotions with someone else?—but you and Bucky had never been exactly normal.

“What is it?”

You sat upright, still not fully awake, pulling the covers over your bare chest. Now that you were awake, you also sensed something amiss.

“I don’t know.” Bucky threw back the covers and hastily pulled on his jeans, not wasting time to wrestle with a shirt as his wings twitched behind him. “There’s a lot of activity going on out there.”

Also scrambling for your clothes, you realized all you had were the ceremonial robes, which were currently tattered to ribbons on the floor.

Wong is going to kill me.

But that was an issue for later-you. Needing to find another set of clothes but not keen on leaving the room naked, you opened the nearest set of drawers and pulled out the robes inside until you found a pair that fit. Muted gold and tan, you slipped it on and realized too late it only came up to mid-thigh, clearly mean to be worn with trousers.

Bucky paused next to the door, appraising your new outfit, and you gave him a don’t say a word glare.

His lips twitched, but at least he kept his thoughts to himself, and you followed him out the door.

Or, you tried and bumped into him, holding onto his wings to not stumble back; Bucky had been forced to stop at the sheer amount of chaos in the hallway. Sorcerers running back and forth, many of them casting spells into the air or at the walls, none of them paying Bucky or you any attention.

You approached the nearest one, recognizing him as one of Wong’s students, and had to grab his arm when he nearly tripped into you in his haste to cast spells.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, letting go of his wrist when you had his attention.

The sorcerer glanced between you and Bucky, and as it so often did, lingered for a moment on your horns. He cleared his throat.

“What?” Bucky asked, pressing against your shoulder. “What is it? Speak up.”

“The… the prisoner has escaped.”

Bucky went pale, his eyes wide, and for a moment you sensed the raw, jagged fear across your bond, prickling up the back of your own neck. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be enslaved by Zemo, the memories still as fresh as new wounds.

You pushed back against his strong emotions, realizing this was something you’d have to work on, separating your emotions so they wouldn’t overwhelm. Your pulse was elevated, goosebumps broke out across your skin, but you muted Bucky’s fear as best you could so you could get a handle on the situation.

“Where’s Strange?”

“His office. Making plans to retrieve the prisoner.”

And probably figure out how Zemo managed to get free, you thought. You imagined not many people were able to escape from deep in the wizard’s headquarters.

“Great. Thanks.”

You turned away from the sorcerer to leave him to what he was doing, which was either repairing broken wards or bolstering existing ones, and faced Bucky. With a gentle touch on his arm, you leaned in so as not to be overheard but the hassled wizards.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky blinked and blew out a short breath. He ran his normal hand through his hair, visibly collecting himself before he answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Fuck.” He shook his head. “How did that bastard get out?”

“I think we need to have a talk with Strange.”

“Yeah,” he growled, fixing his eyes down the hallway toward the far end where the staircase was located. “We do.”

The journey to Strange’s office was interspersed with hurried sorcerers, hands weaving complicated glyphs into the air, too occupied to even notice your passage through the halls.

You nearly walked into a wizard as he dashed from the office, giving a rushed apology as he slipped between you and Bucky. You exchanged a glance and continued inside.

As opposed to the pandemonium outside, it was controlled chaos within. Sorcerers walked the perimeter of the office casting spells, some of them consulted over what looked suspiciously like electronic tablets, and there were Strange and Wong in the middle of the room. In between them was a glowing orange depiction of the Sanctum, with an area below it depicted in blue. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out it was a magical layout of the building and where it had been breached.

“Finally,” Strange said without taking his eyes off the glittering miniature building. “Sergeant, I need you to suit up—after you’ve been cleared by the healers, of course.”

“You want me to hunt Zemo.” Bucky’s tone was flat, incurious, as if he already knew the answer. A glimmer of fear shone across the bond, but when he glanced at you, the trepidation molded into simmering anger. “Yeah, I’ll hunt the bastard for you.”

“I’m coming too.”

Now Strange did take his gaze off the map, meeting your eye through the magical projection. Even Wong stared, expression unreadable as it often was. You met their gazes unblinking, even as you tried not to fidget from the draft against your bare legs.

“The bond worked,” you insisted.

Strange sighed.

“Yes, I deduced as much when neither of you left the room for hours on end.”

Heat burned your cheeks and your tail puffed like an angry snake, which you then had to hold down with one hand so it didn’t lift the back of your robes.

So much for not blinking.

There was a hand on your shoulder, soothing and comforting. Bucky met your questioning look with a soft smile, and the same comfort given by his presence was doubled as it also came across the bond.

“The bond worked,” you repeated to Strange, bolstered by Bucky’s silent support. “Which means Bucky and I work better in tandem. I’m not a liability anymore; you said it yourself I’m a full-fledged sorcerer. I want to help. I will help.”

Strange said nothing and you bristled.

“Zemo kidnaped me. He tortured me. He held me hostage so he could get to Bucky—“

“And then he killed you.”

It wasn’t Strange who spoke, but Wong, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you sure this is something you wish to do? Track down the man who ended your life and sent you to the demon realm? Think carefully.”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, taking in Wong’s words and giving them the proper attention they deserved.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Yes. I won’t let him do to someone else what he did to me. And to Bucky.”

Pride, concern, and even some exasperated fondness trickled across your link. You nearly smiled but kept your lips in a thin line, not wanting Wong to think you weren’t serious about this, because you absolutely were.

Strange stroked his goatee and glanced sideways at Wong.

“She was your student first. What do you think?”

If Wong was surprised to be asked for his opinion by the Sorcerer Supreme, he didn’t show it. Instead, he scrutinized you so closely you wanted to break out in a cold sweat, and then he turned to Strange and said:

“She’s ready.”

“Then I will defer to your judgement.”

You blinked.

“Just like that?”

Strange actually had the audacity to smirk.

“Were you hoping for a debate committee?” His attention was drawn back to the magical blueprint, his smile fading, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “The truth is, we could use the help. Zemo has gone to ground. He’s a smart man, even managed to break the tracking spells we put on him. He may be one step ahead of us, but… there’s one thing he won’t factor into his calculations.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

You glanced at Bucky but he simply shrugged, confused as you were.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Wong answered this time. “Zemo believes you are still dead. He doesn’t know you’ve returned, and he certainly doesn’t know you now possess magical capabilities. What has he been relying on to give him his edge so far?”

It was almost like you were back in one of Wong’s lessons, so you paid attention and followed his train of thought.

“Demon magic?”

“Mmhmm.” Wong gave the barest of smiles. “And what is your mystical specialization?”

“Demon magic,” you answered with your own smile.

“He will most likely rely on old HYDRA facilities to stay in hiding, which is where you come in, Sergeant.” Strange nodded to Bucky. “You both are our best means of tracking and recapturing Helmut Zemo.”

The plan sounded all well and good, but something was nagging you. Something important you were missing.

“How did Zemo escape?”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled as he pulled his hand off your shoulder and turned to the two sorcerers, arms folded over his chest.

“Yeah. How did Zemo escape?”

“We’re still investigating the precise way he did it, but…” Strange tapped the magical image of the building and it expanded, focusing on the sub level where it showed a cell lined in blue, fragments of it missing. “From what I can tell, during your ritual with Barnes someone infiltrated the Sanctum with the goal of weakening the demon wards around Zemo’s cell. They succeeded, causing only minor damage to the wards, but unfortunately it was enough for Zemo to recall his servant to teleport him and his accomplice out of the building.”

“You mean his slave.” Anger simmered in your chest, but dread twisted in the pit of your stomach. “The Alp is enslaved again.”

“Yes,” Strange said, reluctantly. “And we don’t know if Zemo has other demons under his power, ones that can do more than simple teleportation, or if his allies are human, such as the one who set him free. Most likely, he has backup plans of his backup plans, so we must move swiftly, especially before he finds more of HYDRA’s ill-advised toys lying around. One demon gate was bad enough. I don’t wish to find out what he would do with more Infinity Stone-powered artifacts.”

“So.” Bucky stepped forward, arms across his chest. “Where do we start?

As Strange began to discuss strategy and what he believed was the best approach, your attention drifted to something else.

Strange’s collar. More specifically, the collar of his red cape. The Cloak of Levitation. It slightly fluttered in a non-existent breeze, just as present and alive as any person.

The relic that had chosen Strange.

Recalling the Ancient One’s words, you let your eyes wander around the room, searching for the relic that was supposedly yours. The instruments that lined the shelves and display cases had never responded to you before, even after reawakening your powers, and they didn’t call to you now. A relic was supposed to make itself known to you when you were ready, but still, nothing leapt out at you as particularly important.

And then you finally remembered, oh shit. You hadn’t actually told them about your conversation with the Ancient One yet. Not that you’d had time, with waking up and finding Bucky the way he was, and that had certainly taken up all of your—

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

You jerked your head around and there was Strange, giving you a flat and put-upon stare. Bucky turned to you with a raised brow, but Wong was watching you without blinking.

“Sorry. I just… Is this the Ancient One’s office? This is her office, right?”

Much like the sorcerer you had just mentioned at your last encounter, Strange simply gaped at you.

“Come again?” he said with the impatient tone of one not used to having to ask for clarification.

“Is this her office? I’m supposed to find something here.” When no one said a word, you sheepishly added, “I, uh, spoke to her. After I must have passed out during the ritual—“

“Excuse me?”

“How is that possible?”

“You what?”

That last was from Bucky, and it was to him you answered first. Guilt surfaced at your unintentional omission of truth.

“I saw her, and talked to her, but it-it’s not important how right now.”

At Bucky’s furrowed brow and tight jaw you moved closer, trying to soothe him across your bond. The tension in his body loosened marginally, and his distress became a more mild worry.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later when we have time,” you said quietly. “What’s important is that she wanted me to go to her office to find my relic. And if we’re going to hunt Zemo, I would rather have it before we leave.”

Strange exchanged a look with Wong, one you didn’t understand but seemed laden with meaning. You frowned.

“What?”

“She said: her office?” Wong asked. “Are you positive those were her exact words?”

“Yes. Why?”

Bucky didn’t seem to have any clue as to why that was important either, but Strange and Wong continued to have a silent discussion before Wong finally spoke.

“I’ll take her.”

“Then…” Strange took a deep breath and gave you a last look. “I wish you luck.”

Before you could ask what the hell that meant, Wong began ushering you and Bucky out of the office, but then Strange spoke up again.

“Oh, one last thing. You two won’t be going after Zemo alone.”

You couldn’t quite read Strange’s expression, something like frustration and amusement. Usually he only made that face in regards to you, so you knew it couldn’t be good.

“What’s that mean?” Bucky asked, probably coming to a similar conclusion.

“The Avengers, as you know, have their hands tied with the Sokovian Accords, and can’t help us with this matter. Not in an official capacity. The last thing we need is to have the United Nations aware of our presence.”

Bucky frowned further.

“Your point?”

“My point, Sergeant, is that neither Steve Rogers nor Tony Stark can assist in retrieving Zemo. To do so would require official channels to know how he escaped, and why imprisonment was necessary from the start.

“Not to mention where he was being held,” Strange added with a sigh. “Our order relies on secrecy and independence in order to function. The UN knowing about the Sanctums would make protecting this planet that much harder.”

Strange was right, but you were less concerned about the sorcerers being exposed—they could handle themselves. More worrying would be the world’s governments becoming aware of Bucky and his demonic side. Especially with the Sokovian Accords in play and the Avengers unable to intervene, keeping Bucky under the radar was important now more than ever.

“So… who’s going to be helping us?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

“A liaison, of sorts. I’ll give you more details when you return, and I expect you to play nice.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Strange,” Bucky growled.

“I was talking to her.”

Strange glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t even get the chance to defend the slander before he was waving you away and Wong was leading you out the door.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Strange called after you. “And he is an Avenger, so try not to embarrass us.”

Your annoyance at the wizard evaporated.

“You know who he is?” Bucky asked, casting you a side glance. He must have sensed your sudden excitement across the bond.

“Of course, he’s the Falcon! He helped Steve Rogers dismantle HYDRA when they tried to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s how he became an Avenger.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky’s voice dropped a notch. “And you’ve met Captain America himself, but I don’t remember you fangirling over Steve.”

You stumbled over your own feet. Wong pointedly ignored you both, for which you were grateful.

“I-well, that’s different! Steve is… Steve.”

You couldn’t exactly say Steve is your ex, but there it was. Even if you’d met Steve at a time where you hadn’t been spiraling with devastation at Bucky going into the cryo-chamber, the whole thing would have been just as awkward. You liked Steve well enough, especially after you’d had time to get to know him, but he was still Steve Rogers to you. Someone who was important to Bucky in a way that he was different to the rest of the world.

But Sam Wilson… You were going to be working with an Avenger. A bonafide superhero. And you were going to be using your magic the way it should be wielded, not cloistered away in a sanctum.

Your tail twitched, and you grabbed it before it could lift up your short tunic the rest of the way again.

Bucky was immediately distracted, his eyes growing darker as he followed the sudden movement of your tail down to your bare legs.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I get changed before we go to… wherever it is we’re going?”

Wong looked over his shoulder, glanced at your state of undress, and rolled his eyes.

“Very well.”

The three of you made a detour back to your room, or you assumed it was a detour, because you still didn’t know your destination. You paused in the doorway.

“Where are we going?”

“Kamar-Taj,” Wong answered, eyes straight ahead. Down the hallway where you would eventually enter the meeting room that only the Masters used. You’d never been there, or through the magical doors beyond that led to the other Sanctums.

A chill went down your spine, one that was shared as Bucky met your eye, and you didn’t object as he followed you into your room. Nor did you speak when he shut the door, turn to you, and wrapped his arms around your tense shoulders.

He didn’t know the source of your distress, couldn’t know what the Ancient One had told you, but he could feel the results of it anyway.

Wong would have to wait a few minutes more as you allowed yourself to take comfort in Bucky’s steadfast presence. It was the only way you could gather your strength for whatever came next.

Next Chapter

[seriouslyhooked]

The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.  

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit.  She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you. 

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest.  He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian  placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly. 

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

[chachkayes]

Hi here’s a prompt: Hayes introducing Meredith to Irene 🥺🥺🥺

Smile

Thank you so much for the prompt! It was so much fun to write after being so sick all weekend, I really hope it meets what you had in mind! Enjoy!

“C’mon ‘Mac, why can’t I meet her now? You said she got off the breathing tube.” Irene pressed into her brother-in-law, wanting nothing more than to meet the woman who made him smile again. “Because, she hasn’t woken up yet. And when she does, she is going to want to talk to her kids and the rest of her family first. She’s been out for a while.” Hayes quickly shot back, and Irene rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I’m talking to her before I leave this place!” She called out as he headed for the door to her recovery room. 

-

“Is she awake yet?” Irene asked the next morning when Hayes came to check on her before his shift. “I don’t know.” He responded, trying his best to keep a stoic face. “Oh yeah, I definitely believe you.” She responded sarcastically, smiling from under her mask. “She woke up late last night.” Hayes finally broke, grinning, and Irene followed suit. “Oh ‘Mac that’s amazing, have you gone to see her yet?” She asked, to which Hayes shook his head. “I will, when she’s had a chance to talk to her family and get caught up to speed.”

“Fine, but I better know who she is and what she looks like before tomorrow! I can’t keep imagining her with the description given to me by the boys.” Irene demanded, she would meet the woman her brother-in-law talked about with a smile she hadn’t seen since her sister was alive, if it was the last thing she’d ever do. She knew she’d have to report back to her nephews when she got home from the hospital. “I’ll ask if she wants to meet you later today. Can you leave me alone about this now?” Hayes pleaded, he was still figuring out how to navigate the feelings he’d developed for Meredith and it pained him that Irene had gotten involved. She was just as stubborn as the woman she wanted to meet. “Fine.” 

-

“You off today or something?” Was the text that caught Hayes off-guard a few hours into his shift. Meredith. He’d avoided her room, wanting her to have the chance to talk to Maggie, Amelia, Bailey, Richard, and her kids before he went in to talk to her. He hadn’t expected her to text him, and he certainly didn’t expect her to want to see him so soon. He stared at the text message so long he convinced himself it wasn’t real. The buzzing of his phone snapped him back to reality. 

“I can see that you read my text, surprised you haven’t come by to say hi yet.” He’d forgotten he had his read-receipts on. Quickly, he messaged her back. “Sorry, just wasn’t expecting you to message me. I’ll be by soon.” She only sent a thumbs up back, and he headed to her floor, not wanting to keep her waiting too long.

“Hey, you.” Meredith said as soon as Hayes knocked on her door and entered her room. He chuckled a bit and sat down, what was he supposed to say to her? “Sorry for not coming by earlier, I wanted to give you time with your family. I’ve had to deal with my own family issues too, so…” His voiced trailed off. It’d been so long since he’d talked to her, it felt like he’d forgotten how to have a conversation. “What happened?” Meredith asked, concerned. 

“Ah, Abby’s sister is in the hospital. Kidney stone. Ureter fell out when taking it out. Catherine Avery and Wilson had to do an auto-transplant to fix her and save her kidney. Kind of felt like my world was falling apart, not going to lie.” Meredith frowned at him. “I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of jealous of Wilson right now. I miss surgery. I miss auto-transplants.” Her voice trailed off, and Hayes regretted sharing about the surgery, knowing how long she’d been away from it. “But how is she doing?” Meredith asked quietly, worried it wasn’t going to be an easy recovery. “Good. Stubborn as ever. Pain in my ass, but work is a good distraction. Just glad she’s okay.” He sighed, and Meredith nodded, instinctively holding out her hand for him to grab in comfort.

He looked at her for a second, wondering if he should. But he did, and he was glad he did. She squeezed his hand, knowing exactly what he was going through. “You know, a few years ago, Amelia had a brain tumour. Koracick had to remove it. It was a 10cm Grade 1 meningioma. One of the scariest things I went through after Derek died. Didn’t want to tell the kids they’d lost their aunt too.” Hayes could only nod, glad he had someone who could actually empathize with him and understood his worry.

“I’d love to meet her someday.” Meredith spoke up again after sitting in silence with Hayes for a few seconds. Hayes looked at her and laughed to himself. “What’s so funny?”

“She’s been asking to meet you as well.” 

-

Hayes barged into Irene’s room, tablet in hand and Meredith on screen. “What the hell, ‘Mac?” She asked, glaring at him. “I have someone on the tablet who wants to talk to you.” Irene rolled her eyes but sat upright, expecting it to be one of her nephews. She was surprised when a woman with a mask on appeared in front of her eyes. Irene looked at the name at the bottom of the screen, only to look up at Hayes in shock when she saw Meredith Grey, Chief of General Surgery. Hayes winked at his sister-in-law and left the room, knowing Irene was about to tell Meredith that he talked about her around his kids constantly and other embarrassing things he didn’t want to be present for.

“So, you’re the infamous general surgeon my nephews kept hearing about.” Irene said, shocked that her brother-in-law had caved that easily. “Oh, did they now? Interesting. But yes, I guess that’s me. And you must be Irene. Hayes has told me lots about you.” Meredith said, grateful her mask was hiding her smirk. “Mac tells me you were on a breathing tube for a while. Mind if I ask what happened?” Irene pressed, wanting to know everything about Meredith, and what the hell had happened to make her need the vent. She didn’t want Hayes to get too attached to someone else who was terminally ill. Meredith laughed at the nickname Irene kept using for Hayes. “I got COVID.” She said, and Irene frowned. “I’m glad to see you’re starting to get better now. Don’t know how ‘Mac would’ve handled losing someone else he cares about.” Meredith didn’t show it on her face, but she was shocked by all the things Irene was telling her. 

“Where did that nickname come from, by the way?” Meredith asked, genuinely curious. “That’s a long story.” Irene responded, and Meredith could only nod. The two women talked about their lives, and Irene immediately understood why her brother had fallen for Meredith the moment she mentioned she was a widow as well. They talked about everything from Amelia, to Meredith’s kids, to Austin and Liam, and then even Abby and Derek. 

Just before they signed off, Irene said the one thing she’d been wanting to say to Meredith since she learned about her existence from her nephews. “Thank you, by the way.” Meredith tilted her head, confused. “For what?” She asked with a slight laugh. “For making him smile again. The kids say he hasn’t smiled like he does when he talks about you in a really long time. And I gotta say, I get it now that I’ve seen it for myself. I haven’t seen that smile on his face since before my sister died. So, thank you.” Meredith smiled sincerely at Irene, placing her hand on her chest.

“That means a lot, he makes me smile too.”

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (17)

Heartstone Hall

Previously on Arcadia or Bust:

James Lake Sr. came back to Arcadia while Jim and friends were out retrieving the new Heartstone. The deadbeat not only ran away with a girl, but he’d been dealing cocaine in LA. Now he’s come back to lay low, since he owes a lot of money to some really dangerous men. He got a kilo of cocaine to try to make his profit back, only to not pick it up from the drop zone before Jim found it. Thinking it was trash, Jim ate the brick and went into an 8 hour rage, busting up the town. The US army of Area 49-B got a whiff of the destruction and came to collect Jim from the hospital. With a campaign from the town and an old friend of Walter’s, Jim is turned loose. However, he’s not out of the woods yet, as his amulet was ripped out of his chest and now he has a crater. 

—

*points in a random direction* Hey look! What’s that over there?! *Drops update* *runs*

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“It’s okay Jim, you’re going to be okay,” said Claire, as she hovered just over his face, and pressed little kisses to his cheek. “We’re going home.” 

“…For the…glory…” he muttered, before wincing and falling silent. 

“Are you taking us to the hospital?” Barbara asked as the van sped on, faster than any speed limit. 

“Nope,” said Samuel. “I think this is a Heartstone issue.” 

She nodded, knowing that would be the best. “He needs a tissue transplant, but his skin is so tough…I don’t even know what we could do for him. Get human skin and have Merlin transform it into half-troll? I hate that I don’t know what to do! I’m not a surgeon, damnit! And I’m certainly no magic expert!” 

“Stop at the McDonald’s near the edge of town,” said Toby. 

“Really? You want a Big Mac at a time like this?” 

“No! Merlin is probably there, and I bet he could fix Jim up.” 

“Wait, Merlin-Merlin? Like ‘Amulet of Merlin, Sword of Excalibur’ Merlin?” Asked Samuel.

“That’s the one!” 

Once they got into town, Samuel pulled in at the McDonalds as requested, and Toby was out the door before he stopped the car. 

“Merlin! Merlin help!” He cried, as he ran inside the restaurant. 

The employees behind the counter all looked at him, and then pointed at Merlin, who had set up shop in the corner of the store. He was surrounded by books, and other magical artifacts. 

How had management allowed this? Well actually, Merlin wouldn’t have listened to any authority, so they probably didn’t allow it. 

Toby ran to the wizard. “We got Jim back! He’s in the van, and he’s hurt really bad! We need you to heal him!” 

“What kind of injury?” Asked Merlin, calmly packing up his books. 

“They took his amulet, and there’s a huge hole in his chest! I could see his lungs!” 

Merlin screwed up his lips in thought. “Where are they taking him? To the Heartstone?”

“That’s what Samuel said!” 

Merlin didn’t ask who Samuel was, so he probably didn’t care. “I will be there shortly. I must gather the appropriate supplies. Keep him reclined and relaxed. And try not to prod the wound.” 

Toby nodded once and then ran back outside to the van. 

One of the McDonald employees calmly came over and refilled Merlin’s coffee, as he had asked to be done every hour. 

“Good lad. I’m leaving now. Here, for your trouble.” And he dropped a sizable emerald in the kid’s hand. 

The kid looked at it and shrugged. “Whatever.” It beat minimum wage at least.

—

At the canal, Claire opened up the portal to Trollmarket while Walter and Samuel started to get Jim out of the van. She ran in and called out, “Blinky! ARRRGH! Jim’s back! He’s hurt!” 

ARRRGH came running, while Blinky gathered all sorts of supplies and carried them down to the Heartstone. 

It was a mad dash then. Jim was quickly, but carefully, brought down into Heartstone Hall, and rested on his mattress on the floor. 

“…cold…” he whispered as he grasped and pulled at the blankets. 

Barbara pulled the comforter up to his stomach, and draped a smaller one over his right side. “I know you're cold, but you have a wound, and we can’t cover it yet.” 

“…water…” 

“I’m on it!” Cried Toby, running upstairs.

Jim groaned out in pain, and the Heartstone responded with a pulse of light. 

“Is that good?” Asked Claire. 

“The Heartstone is picking up on Jim’s pain, and is releasing magic to aid in his healing!” Said Blinky, with a smile. 

“Is that going to deplete the magic we put back into it?” 

“No no! Well, maybe…it shouldn’t!” 

Jim moaned out again, tensing his whole body, and craning his neck in an effort to find relief. 

“Just a little bit longer, sweetie,” said Barbara. “Merlin will be here soon.” She gnawed on her lip. “I could probably get an IV for him from the hospital. I have my phone, so call me if there’s any change!” 

“I’ll drive you, Dr. Lake,” said Samuel. 

“That’s alright, I’ll take the tunnel to my house and grab my car. That way, you don’t need to be held up here any longer. You’ve been a great help.” 

The general smiled. “It was worth it more than I thought. The Trollhunter owes me a favor now, you see. I probably won’t need to collect, but it’s always fun to have that in your back pocket. And besides, I got to see Trollmarket and the Heartstone with my own eyes.” He glanced at the orange stone. “That’s a privilege everyone in the Janus Order longed for.” Before he got too wistful, he turned to Walt. “You’ll let me know how this all turns out, right? Because I’m invested in Mr. Lake’s fate now.”

“I’ll text you updates.” 

“Fantastic.” He gave Jim a pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there, Trollhunter.”

“I’ll show you out,” said Barbara as they left together. 

Then it was just Blinky, ARRRGH, Claire, and Walt. Time ticked on in silence, as no one knew what to do or say. Only occasional groans from Jim broke the quiet atmosphere.

“What’s taking Merlin so long?” Said Claire, with irritation. 

“He’s coming?” Asked Blinky.

“We told him about what happened before we came down here. Said he had to collect ‘appropriate materials’.” 

“So he’s collecting materials,” said Walter. “It might take some time.” 

“Yeah, but he’s probably doing it at a leisurely pace. The man has no concept of time anymore. We need to get him a phone. Or at least a walkie-talkie.” 

Just then, a gallon bucket of ice and water bottles descended on a rope from the center column of the room. 

“Heads up! It’s kinda heavy!” Toby called before it hit the ground harshly. Then he nearly tumbled down the stairs himself. 

“I got a bunch because I know Jim doesn’t have running water down here yet, and I didn’t want us to run out!” He took a bottle from the bucket and put a silly straw in it so Jim could drink without having to sit up. “Sorry Jim, this is the only straw I have…it says ‘big boy’.” Toby tilted the end of the straw so it touched Jim’s lips. 

In his half conscious state, Jim felt it, took it in his mouth, and sucked, emptying half the bottle in one go. He released the straw and licked his lips. 

“Better, Jimbo?” 

“Uh huh…” Jim managed a little nod. 

“Okay. I’ll be on water duty. You just say the word, okay?” 

“…For…the glory of Merlin…” Jim tried again, before wincing hard. “Hurts to breathe…” 

Claire sat cross legged on the bed next to him, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails. “Just hang on for a little bit longer. Your mom is bringing some medicine from the hospital, and Merlin is going to fix you up.” 

His eyes flickered open ever so slightly. “Where am I?” 

“You’re in Heartstone Hall, in your bed.” 

His eyes closed again. “My amulet…gone.” 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it right now. Just relax.” 

“Hurts…” 

“I know, babe, I know.” 

Walt stood, looking at his phone. “Barbara’s back. I’ll go help her.” And he left. 

Blinky snapped his fingers. “I think Vendal had a recipe for a burn salve up there. I can work on that. Come ARRRGH! It’s the least we can do!” 

“Yell if Jim need help,” ARRRGH added, as he followed Blinky up the stairs. 

“More water, Jimbo?” 

“Huh Uh…” 

After he drank, he winced, and a tear rolled from his eye. “I want my mom.” 

“She’s coming, Jim. She’s bringing some medicine for you.” 

“Where…am I?” 

Claire then realized that Jim was barely conscious, and wasn’t listening to much anyways. She’d end up repeating herself a lot. 

She pushed his bangs out of his face and kissed his forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re nice and safe, babe.” 

Toby and Claire sat in silence as Jim continued to struggle to breathe. 

Thankfully, Barbara and Walt appeared not a minute later, with all sorts of goodies. 

“Alright kiddo, let’s get you all cleaned up. Claire, would you put on these gloves? I’d like you to clean the skin around his wound with these alcohol swabs while I set up the IV.” 

“On it Barb!” Claire got to work quickly, thankful to be able to do something to help. 

Walt set up the IV stand while Barbara prepared the needle and inserted it in Jim’s arm. 

“I hate that I have to use a thicker gauge needle, but your skin is so tough, kid.” 

Jim didn’t seem to even register what she was doing. 

Once the IV was in and taped in place, Barbara took out a thick gauze and started taping it in place on Jim’s chest. “The wound isn’t bleeding nearly as much as it should,” she stated, with a frown.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Asked Claire. 

“I’m thinking it’s because of the burns on him. They weren’t this bad at the hospital. He had been out in sunlight that day, but it was overcast and he had on long sleeves.” She taped down the gauze with medical masking tape. “No, this looks like...well, third degree on a human. Direct heat like flames or burning metal. I guess that would be a UV light for Jim.” 

“I’m going to hammer that lady into the ground,” Toby muttered.

“There, this should be good for now. I’ll bandage him again once Merlin cleans him up.” She rested a weak hand to her head. “Lord help me, I’m depending on Merlin.” 

Thankfully, news came by Claire’s phone, with an unknown number. 

“Hello?” 

“Claire? This is Douxie.” 

“Douxie! Please tell me you’re with Merlin!” 

“I am! Not that I can get his butt moving any faster. He briefed me on the situation, and I’ve been trying to rush him…but, you know how he is…” 

She could hear the old man shouting somewhere in the near distance. “Three days? Well he’ll be dead by then! No need for it by that time! You don’t have anything in stock?” 

Claire winced. “Where are you guys?” 

“At the hardware store, ummm you’re better off not knowing why for now. We’ll be at Trollmarket soon, I promise!” 

“Thank you. And thank you for calling. We were getting worried.” 

“How is he?” 

“Barely conscious. He’s on an IV with pain meds now…so he’ll be feeling a little better. He keeps trying to summon his amulet, but he doesn’t have the strength.” 

“Uh oh, he doesn’t have the amulet with him?” 

“No, the army wouldn’t give it back.” 

Douxie exhaled in a huff. “We’ll figure something out. Oh, Looks like Merlin found an alternative. We’ll be on our way soon!” 

“Great! See you!” And she ended the call. “Merlin should be coming soon!” 

“Thank goodness!” Barbara sighed. “Though it looks like Jim finally fell asleep. His pain is mostly managed…all we can do now is wait.” 

It felt like they were waiting hours. But there was not much else to do. 

Jim slept fitfully, occasionally opening his eyes to look around. It was clear he was exhausted, so he’d just close them again a moment later, and they heard his slow breathing. 

“This is torture,” said Claire. “But I can’t imagine what he’s been through.” 

“I hope that along with her discharge, that Kubritz lady does hard time in prison,” said Toby. 

“And I hope they do everything to her that she did to him,” Claire added, with venom. “If they don’t, I will.”

“I’ll back you up.” 

It was hard to share small talk, but just listening to Jim’s labored breathing and waiting felt like a terrible option. 

Finally, finally, Merlin’s horrible grating voice echoed through the Heartstone husk. “Hello? Is this where the injured Jim is?” 

“Yes!” Claire cried out. She was never so happy to hear that man’s voice. 

No really, most of the time, his appearance filled her with dread. 

Merlin and Douxie descended the stairs, arms full of plastic shopping bags. 

And it finally seemed like Merlin was done wasting time, as he spared no greetings and got busy examining Jim. He removed the blanket that covered his shoulder, and the temporary bandages Barbara applied. 

He cringed at the sight of the crater. “Yikes. That is quite the wound.” 

“Can you heal him?” Claire asked, afraid that he wasn’t up to the task. 

“Sure. No problem. Douxie, prepare the plaster.” 

“Plaster?” Barbara asked, with horror.

“Ugh, I know,” said the wizard. “Three days for expedited shipping for clay! Ridiculous! I thought the modern era was a time of immediate gratification! But no, the one time I need something quick, it’s a three day wait! Do they not know where the nearest clay deposits are?!” 

“Okay, but the plaster? What’s the deal with the plaster?!” 

“What else do you expect me to use to fill a wound in a troll?” 

“You’re going to pour plaster in his open wound?!” 

“Yes! And more!” He glanced over to the bucket Douxie was mixing in. “How’s it coming?” 

“Do you want it more watery, or thick?” 

“Thick without being too dry.” Then he turned back and leaned in close to Jim. “None of you are going to like what I’m about to do.” He pressed two fingers to Jim’s chest, and spoke, “imperium.” 

Jim’s eyes flashed open, wide, pupils expanded so the iris was just a hint of blue.

“Jim Lake Jr., summon your amulet,” Merlin commanded. 

Jim raised his hand up in the air slowly and spoke clearly, “for the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command.” 

Then Merlin let go, and Jim fell back into slumber, Claire having to catch his hand before it smacked him in the face. 

“What was that?” She asked. 

“I thought it was fairly obvious. A mind control spell. Very weak, only works on unconscious individuals within range.” 

“You know Mind Control?” Asked Toby, with some horror. 

“To a degree. As I said. It’s more like the power of suggestion. Morgana has learned how to fully possess someone’s mind, but I always preferred to use my natural charisma to persuade people.” 

Someone snorted. 

“The plaster is ready,” said Douxie. “Did you want to start with the strips?” 

“Yes,” he collected the tray Douxie had prepared. Mesh cloth strips sprayed with plaster, which created a base. Carefully, Merlin began to lay the strips in the hole in Jim’s chest, applying just enough pressure to adhere them and blend the edges. Once he had completely coated the inside, without filling the hole, he stopped.  

“There, now we’ll treat his burns. You said you had electricity down here?” 

“Uh, yeah. There’s an outlet on the wall next to you,” said Claire. 

“Perfect.” From his various bags, he took out a palm sander with a coarse paper on it. He plugged it in. “Now how do I work this thing?” 

“Why don’t you let me handle that while you use the file…” Douxie took the power tool away from him. “Claire, can you sit him up and lean against his back as a counter weight?”

“The file? I don’t want to use the file! I got this so you would use the file!”

“Merlin!” Barbara scolded. 

“Fine, I’ll use the file…better for fine detailing anyways.”

It was agonizing moments as Douxie buffed away the dried, burnt skin that came off like dust, while Merlin shucked off the chunks that were too thick for the sander. 

Jim, for the most part, only twitched and cried out on occasion, only when they got too close to fresh skin. 

Once he was rubbed raw and bright blue, a little bloody in some places, they stopped. 

“It’s like an extreme pumice stone,” Douxie tried to soothe, feeling guilty as Claire wiped her tears. “The skin affected by the sun, or UV lights or whatever, was solid stone and had to come  off.” 

“I know,” said Claire. “It was just…jarring.” 

“Alright, we’re almost done,” said Merlin, scrounging up some compassion. “You can recline him again, Fair Claire.” 

Gently, Claire laid him back down on the pillows. 

Merlin took the loose plaster and slopped a bit in the wound, trying to make up for the missing space. 

Then, from the stairs came a ‘plink, plunk, plink, plunk’ as the amulet rolled its way down and stopped at Merlin’s feet. “Got here faster than I anticipated. I’d love to see the damage it did on it’s way.” 

“I thought if someone stole the amulet, it wouldn’t come back?” Asked Toby. 

“Not unless it’s properly summoned. If it only chooses one Trollhunter, you think it would want to be anywhere else?” Merlin cleaned the amulet with a rag to a near mirror shine, before placing it back in its spot on Jim’s chest. 

“Can’t you just keep it out of him? What if something like this happens again?” 

“Then we’ll just have to buy more plaster,” shrugged Merlin. “Anyway, it’s better this way.” He smeared more plaster in the cracks and smoothed it with his hands, until the seam was perfectly even. 

“Now what?”

“The plaster should start to dry soon, and a chemical reaction will take place, putting off heat. Then I will start the incantation.”

“Why then?”

“Must everything I do be questioned?”

“Yes.” Said everyone, unanimously.

“Because I said so. That’s why.” He touched the plaster, careful not to jostle it, and waited for the heat to set in. “Alright, I suggest everyone stand back. You too, Claire, get behind me.” 

Claire scooted off the bed and stood back with Toby and Barbara, then they waited anxiously. 

“It’s going to look and sound painful, but a little bit of pain, and he’ll be all better.” Merlin’s hands glowed blue, interacting with the pulsing, ticking amulet. Instead of a one word spell, like he had been doing, Merlin muttered a fast string of words that sounded like nothing and everything at the same time. Lightning bolts skittered from his fingertips, and drew patterns on Jim’s flesh. 

Jim screamed and writhed as every bolt connected. They danced across the plaster, turning it to his hardened flesh as they moved. The hands on the amulet spun rapidly as the stone pulsed a violent blue. The wound from Morgana, lower on his chest, flickered orange like embers. The Heartstone glowed as well. 

Claire felt her hair stand on end and goosebumps rise to her skin. The magic in the room was deafening, blinding, and amazing.

Finally, Merlin halted, and only smoke remained. 

Jim breathed deep, quick breaths, like you would after a run. But it wasn’t labored or halted, like before. 

“Cl-Claire?” He asked, his voice stronger than it had been. 

She nearly tackled him. “Jim! Jim you’re alright!” 

He winced slightly as she collided with his raw skin, but hugged her anyway. “Where am I?” 

“You’re home!” 

“Home?” 

“It’s a long story. How do you feel?” 

“Tired, hungry…a little sore. I remember being in a lot of pain…” he looked down at his chest, touching the amulet in confusion. 

“Merlin just healed you,” she explained. “They hurt you pretty bad, huh?” 

He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders. “No kidding.” 

“Well,” said Merlin, “my work here is done. I think I’m ready for a nap of my own.” 

“Thank you, Merlin,” Barbara said sincerely. “Thank you for saving my boy.” 

“Of course! You didn’t think I was going to leave my greatest warrior to die, did you? Oh, before I forget, I should probably give this back.” He handed a black wallet over to her. 

“Wait, whose is this?” 

“James’. I needed to pay for the sander somehow.” 

Barbara laughed. “Well, he’s not going to be happy about it, but glad to know he contributed to this too.” Then she muttered, “considering it’s all his fault in the first place.” 

By the end of the day, Jim was up. Not fully recovered, but enough to shuffle around. He was able to go to his mother’s house and take a shower, while Barbara changed the blood-stained, plaster dusted sheets. When he was all clean, he sat in the living room in his sweatpants, exhausted, and aching. 

“Blinky made you a salve, if you want me to put it on you,” Claire offered, holding up a little jar. 

“I’d love that.” 

She delicately rubbed it into his skin, like Aloe on a severe sunburn. Careful not to scratch him, but also wanting to make sure he was covered.

James walked past the room and halted. “Jim! You’re—you’re back!” 

Jim just glanced at the man. “And?”

“I just…um, look, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know…that you ate trash. I would have made the drop for the cocaine somewhere else. I didn’t think—that’s not something people usually have to worry about, you know?”

“Yeah. Usually.” Jim said, stone cold. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Why do you care?”

“B-because you’re my son?” 

Jim couldn’t stifle the eye roll. “So NOW you think I’m your son? Where was that mentality when you pointed a shotgun at me?”

“I was in a severe crack withdrawal when I did that.” 

“And you’re just magically better now?”

James sat in an armchair opposite him. “I’m not going to say yes, but I’m better. I’m trying to get out of your and Babs’ lives, because I brought so much hurt in the first place. But…seeing what I’m missing out on—“ 

“No!” Jim snarled, standing up. “You don’t get to be sentimental now. You don’t get to change your mind. You suck! That’s all you’ve done! Mom’s moved on, I have men that are more fatherly than you could ever be if you tried! So just—finish your business and get lost!” He tried to step towards the basement, but he crumbled, still far too physically weak to walk on his own. 

“I got you,” Claire whispered, wrapping an arm around his waist. “James,” she turned to look at him briefly. “I don’t know if you realized how crappy that thing you just said was. Don’t try to get Jim’s hopes up. He’s hurt, he’s upset, he’s vulnerable. So just stay away. If you truly want to be back in Jim’s life, don’t mention that you’re considering it. Back it up with action, or else you’ll just be disappointing us all when you go back. And as far as I know…your word is worthless.” She helped Jim walk slowly back to the basement, to the tunnel back to Trollmarket. 

“Trouble? I heard yelling,” said Draal.  

“No, no trouble. Thanks Draal,” Jim gave him a weak, affectionate punch. 

—

Many many miles away, a group of men watched the news, an old broadcast that one of them had snagged. 

“—The campaign worked perfectly! Now, hero to Arcadia, James Lake Jr. has been released from his wrongful imprisonment for his bizarre appearance, and returned home. Lake is hailed a local hero, as his acts of kindness and selflessness during a horrendous tornado in the area have become well known in the community as well as on social media. A parade in Lake’s honor is set for this weekend, as Lake has made a good progression in his recovery from captivity.”

“Okay, a kid was arrested because he looks weird. Not sure what the correlation is.” 

The leader of the pack smiled. “Oh, it’s such a subtle thing. We don’t care about the kid, or his deeds, or even the city of Arcadia really.” 

“Then…what?”

“Did you catch the boy’s name?”

“I…Lake? Like…”

“Jim Lake Jr. is what they said. Maybe a common name. But if there’s a Junior…perhaps there’s a Senior nearby.”

—

I have not seen Rise of the Titans (though I expect to watch it this weekend) but I heard it was…not good, story wise. So in this fic, I won’t be applying any of it. Probably. Unless something juicy catches my eye.

[betweentheracks]

Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

[tirkdi]

Will you continue your stupid-amazing hospital alarkling au?

Let it never be said that just because I’ve let an ask sit for years means it won’t be fulfilled. Chapter 1 is here, this is chapter 2, and it’s still half crack, so let’s not take any of it too seriously, shall we?

*

Alina had just finished buttoning up her white coat when she saw Dr. Morozova striding down the hallway, his long legs devouring the linoleum at a distressing pace.

“How was your weekend?” she asked as she fell into step beside him, her own legs doing double time to keep up. He held out a stack of folders and she instinctively reached out to take them.

“My weekend was good,” she continued, having known from the beginning that she was going to have to do the conversational heavy lifting. “A friend of mine had a birthday party and my schedule actually allowed me to attend, which was a pleasant – what are these?” The files she held were all for surgeries that they’d done over the past couple months: nothing new, nothing to prepare.

They turned a sharp corner past pediatrics before her mentor replied. “We’re presenting at a conference this week.”

“We? Presenting? This week?” Alina couldn’t manage to put all her thoughts into a question and he closed his eyes briefly in disappointment.

“We’ll be giving a presentation at the annual surgical conference. I’ve already made the arrangements. Put together the PowerPoint this evening and I’ll review it in the morning.”

“PowerPoint?”

“Keynote is fine if you prefer.”

“Oh, great. Yeah. That was my question.”

She let him walk towards the office before propping the files between her hip and the wall to allow her to fish out her phone, scrolling through her list of contacts. Who might she know that makes presentations? She didn’t have a huge repertoire of people to choose from, so it really came down to probably not a costume designer, probably yes a lawyer.

do you know how to make a power point? Alina tapped out.

o m g starkov, Zoya texted back.

could you help me make one this evening? it’s important.

do you have ANY idea what I bill at?  

I’ll provide pizza and wine, Alina offered.

and ice cream, Zoya countered.

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! Alina exhaled and shifted the files back into her arms. Zoya’s reply was a painting nails emoji followed by a hair flip emoji followed by a middle finger.

Perfect. She could get this done tonight.

*

Zoya tapped on Alina’s laptop for a minute while Alina perched nervously beside her. “You have PowerPoint installed, so that’s a good start,” the lawyer muttered. Her hair was pulled behind her ears so that her hair fell in black curls down her back, and her makeup looked as flawless as it must have first thing in the morning. Not to mention the diamonds in her ears – whatever Zoya was having, Alina wanted it.

“When is the pizza coming?” Zoya asked.

“Half an hour. Wine in the meantime?”

Zoya snorted, a you-have-to-ask response that Alina had become familiar with during their time as roommates in college. She returned with a glass of Zoya’s favorite pinot and saw that the screen of her computer was an empty white page.

“Alright,” Zoya began. “Let’s get an outline down, then we can go back and fill in what you’ll actually be saying.”

They had an outline by the time the pizza arrived. Zoya took a slice and pulled up the first slide. “You have some kind of visual you want on this?”

Alina rummaged through the file, pulled out a photo. “This is a pretty good demonstration of the issue we ran into in the surgery–”

She was interrupted by Zoya gagging to the far side of the screen. Once she had recovered, she took a long drink from her wine glass and cut a glance back to Alina, who smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I sometimes forget what it looks like to people who aren’t surgeons.”

Zoya took another drink of wine, set it down, and looked at her friend. “You owe me so much more than pizza and wine for this.”

“That’s the spirit,” Alina replied.

*

Alina forgot the hospital doors were automatic and nearly fell through them the next morning. She caught herself before she fell – barely – and when she looked up Dr. Morozova was standing there, watching her impassively.

Of course. Of course he would be there.

“The presentation looks good.”

Alina rubbed her face. She and a grumbling Zoya had worked on it until the early hours of the morning – she’d sent it to him not so many hours ago, in fact. “Oh. Great.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at seven.”

“Um. Tomorrow?”

He didn’t acknowledge her response. “It’s just one night, so no need to pack too much.”

“Overnight?”

He glanced at her. “It’s a couple hours from here. I’ve booked us rooms. Be ready tomorrow at seven.”

Alina watched him walk off, looked down at the floor. The linoleum didn’t seem to be any help. A two hour drive with her supervisor, an overnight stay at a conference, and a presentation? You can do this, Starkov. “Cool,” she said, once he’d walked off. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool.”

*

At exactly seven o’clock the next morning an impossibly nice car pulled up outside of Alina’s apartment building. She didn’t know anything about cars, but it was black, had tinted windows, and looked like it was worth more than her student debt — which was saying something.

A few moments later, the window closest to her rolled down revealing Dr. Morozova, one eyebrow raised. “Are you planning on getting in?”

“Uh.” Alina looked down at her hands, wondered if she should be wearing gloves if she was going to touch the car. But she also didn’t want to keep him waiting … Just play it cool. “Yeah,” she said. Smooth, Starkov.

The door handle didn’t disintegrate under her touch and she put her bag between her feet as she settled into the passenger side. No sooner had her seatbelt clicked than he began to drive, the ride butter-smooth beneath her. Oh, this is why people spend a crazy amount of money on cars. He shifted gears and she looked out at the tinted scenery as he lead them towards the highway.

He hadn’t said anything since she got in the car. “So,” she said, cringing even as the words left her mouth, “you go to this conference often?” At least she hadn’t asked him if he drove his own car often.

“Annually.”

Another couple minutes passed in silence. She was going to have to do all the prompting, as usual, but being alone with him in a car for two hours meant that maybe she could get to know him a little better. She cast a glance his way but his eyes were on the road ahead. “Do you have any family?” she asked.

“Everyone has a family.”

She stifled a sigh. “Siblings?”

“One.”

“Brother? Sister? Older? Younger?” He didn’t confirm any of those. “Non-binary twin?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road. He signaled, switched lanes. “Sister. Younger.”

Alina looked at him, trying to imagine what his features would look like on a woman. She would probably be the most stunning woman in the world. Either that or scary as hell. “Are you close?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Would you like me to ask about your family?”

The blow, whether or not it was intended as such, landed hard. Alina looked out the window at the scenery, fighting the lump in her throat.

The silence turned out to be a blessing, though; with the car’s smooth handling, Alina fell asleep quickly.

“We’re here.” She jerked awake, rubbing saliva off of her face, wondering if Dr. Morozova had seen her drooling. “I checked us in remotely; your room key should have been sent to your phone. I’m room 416 and you’re 485.”

He opened the trunk and pulled out a small suitcase. Black, obviously. Alina shouldered her own overnight bag. “Go put your stuff down,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

*

There were a lot more people at the conference than Alina had anticipated. It was possible that there were no surgeries happening anywhere across the United States and several other countries right now, because everyone who would have been performing them was in this room. It would have felt crowded in any case, but in this case in particular the attendees were all surgeons —  the egos pressing together were almost suffocating.

Or maybe it was the fact that she was standing in front of all these people as Dr. Morozova gave the presentation she’d put together that made her so uncomfortable. All these people could see her. At least she didn’t have to speak.

“And this last surgery was performed by my intern, Dr. Starkov. I’ll let her explain.”

He handed her the microphone and the tiny clicker to change the slide, and Alina straight up panicked. Her palms started to sweat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.

The audience was looking at her — patient, expectant. They believed she had something important to share. All because of the surgeon everyone here was listening to — because he believed she had something important to share.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to begin to explain the procedure. Once she started, she found she had a lot to say.

Once she started, she did great.

*

Twenty minutes into the happy hour, Dr. Morozova materialized at her side. “I’m going back to my room.”

“As keynote speakers tend to do when there are literal crowds of people wanting their time.” When he’d made his way over, he’d pulled a bubble of people with him, several of whom did not look like they were hoping to spend their time with him discussing surgery. “Too tired of having room keys thrown at you?”

The look he cut her reminded her of a particular type of incision that required a lot of stitches. “Nothing good happens in a room full of drunk surgeons. I advise you not to stay too long, either.”

A drink and a half later, Alina was starting to suspect he was right. “You’re Dr. Morozova’s resident?” a petite woman in heavy glasses was asking her. “Wow.”

“Lucky you,” the man next to her added.

“He’s been an incredible teacher,” Alina agreed.

“Among other things, I’m guessing.” The woman raised her eyebrows at Alina.

Alina’s mind blanked out. “What?”

“I mean … ” She looked at the man next to her who gave an encouraging nod. “All that anatomy, the long nights on call …” Her look was unmistakably suggestive and Alina finally got it.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Nope. That is not a thing that is happening.” She put down her drink. “I actually think I’m going to go now.”

“Makes sense.” The woman winked at her. “Have fun.”

“I am not sleeping with my attending.”

The man and woman looked at each other and shrugged. “If not you, I wonder who he’s with now?”

“Who he’s — he’s not —” Alina left the thought unfinished. Dr. Morozova’s sex life had never crossed her mind; sure, he was absurdly good looking, but he was her mentor. And for whatever reason, she didn’t picture him coming to a conference to sleep around.

But … did he? Were they right?

“I’m going to make this an early night,” Alina said.

“Well, ‘suture’ self,” the man replied as she walked away. He and the woman beside him both laughed hilariously.

The fourth floor hallway was quiet, and she was starting to feel a little more like herself. She passed room 416, and then she stopped. She couldn’t help herself; she walked backwards a few feet to the door and knocked.

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t answer. He must be out with one of those surgeons she’d seen him with earlier, or maybe out with a few of them. Alina was almost relieved; if he wasn’t here, if he was seeing people, then she didn’t have to make herself think about —

The door opened. “Can I help you?” Dr. Morozova asked.

Alina’s blush was fast and furious. She hoped he would assume it was from the alcohol. “Um. No. Nope!” she said. “I was just … checking?”

“Checking?”

“To see if you needed anything. Make sure you’re good to go. I was going to get some coffee.”

He leaned in closer to her and her heart sped up. What the heck? Why would it do that? It must be left over adrenaline from the speech, Alina told herself, well-aware that that was not how adrenaline worked.

“I don’t need coffee.”

“Great! Me neither.” What was happening? “Okie dokie, see you tomorrow.”

He squinted at her. “Are you alright?”

“You betcha.” She did little finger guns. This maybe she could blame on the alcohol, because even she wasn’t usually that bad. “See you later.”

She walked back to her room, and by the time she made it all the way down the hall, she’d pulled it together. She was his resident, that was it. She’d focus on learning everything from him that she could.

*

After a day of attending presentations, poster sessions, and eating terrible conference-center food, Alina was once again seated in the passenger seat beside her instructor, this time heading home. She was determined to not make it awkward.

“Why do you go to this conference every year?” she asked. “Just to speak?”

“Speaking is one reason.” He changed lanes. “I also come to learn.”

“You learned something at this conference?”

“I always do.” He glanced at her disbelief. “The day you stop learning is the day you die.”

“I don’t … ” Alina paused. “I mean, I haven’t been a doctor for as long as you have, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

“Perhaps not.”

They passed a couple towns before he spoke again. “Have you thought about who you’d like to work with next year?”

The intern program at this hospital was two years long, and each year was with a different mentor. It shocked her to realize she was over halfway through her time with Dr. Morozova. She found she desperately didn’t want it to end, and his expertise was only half of the reason.

Oh, yipes. Where had that thought come from?

She coughed to stall for time. “Ummmm … I was thinking of maybe going for more of a specialty next year. Oral surgery?”

He gave a hum that was as smooth as the road beneath the car. “You could try it. I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t.”

The thought of him thinking them similar enough that their likes would overlap was interrupted by panic at what she at first feared was a medical emergency. It took her a few minutes to realize the weird way her heart was beating wasn’t anything like that.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

*

The week after the conference had been a busy one at the hospital, and Alina had managed to avoid Dr. Morozova without making it obvious she was doing so. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been obvious.

There was a lot she needed to work out for herself – why did thinking of him increase the temperature of her internal organs? And, maybe more importantly: what could she do about it?

If she was interested in Dr. Morozova in any sort of romantic way — which she totally, totally, was not, because a) that would be a terrible idea and b) getting involved with a higher-ranking surgeon, let alone one who was managing her, was highly-unethical-if-not-strictly-prohibited — she would run into problem c): the odds that he would be interested in her as well.

A face like his would have plenty of people to choose from, if he ever left the hospital. Probably even if he didn’t.

Whatever. She couldn’t put off talking to him any longer. She exhaled and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

He was bent over papers at his desk and she got to observe him as he read. The planes of his face, the set of his shoulders —

“Well?”

In her observation she had failed to notice he was looking up at her. Very cool, Alina. So cool. “Oh, um, I … had a question for you.” He kept looking at her in a way that made her want to cringe and somehow now also made her want to start taking her clothes off. She shut down that animal part of her brain and soldiered on.

She cleared her throat. “I have a shift next Tuesday, and my usual backup isn’t available. I’ve been having a hard time finding anyone who could take over if I’m in a surgery and something happens so I was wondering … if you could be … if I could put you down to be the one they call. Just backup.”

He stared at her hard for a few seconds, then slumped back in his chair. “Fine,” he said. “Make me your fill-in.”

Alina barely managed to not squeal her “thank you.” She was halfway to the door when he called after her. “Take that folder before you go.”

The folder was sitting on a shelf just at her chest level. “Study those tonight. Surgery tomorrow,” her mentor said.

She opened it and found a thick stack of case notes. She looked back at him and smiled. “They just happened to be sitting here?”

“I had a feeling you might come around,” he replied, making her wonder just how much of what was going on in her head he was able to see. She could have sworn there was something in his expression that she’d never seen before, though she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Nice to see you again, Alina.”

[transgalthoughts]

Guide to transitioning on a budget when you’re scared to come out but certain you want to

There are a few components to this: budgeting, getting treatment, coming out, general life stuff

BUDGETING First and centrally is budgeting. I don’t know what your income is so I’m not going to assume, but here is what my expenditure has been and what I think is reasonable as a goal if you do not have uncontrollable overheads you can’t help - additionally you may find some of my spending to be a bit much (£600 a month rent is quite steep, but cos I live in Oxford and the utilities and everything are included in that price it works out as a fairly decent option)

£600 a month shared housing (+ utilities, council tax etc). This is for Oxford, you can probably find it cheaper in most other places.

£200 a month monthly spending - use a budgeting app like Emma (you will probably need to spend more if you need a car, but try and avoid one if you can, cycling is a good transport option. You should do big shops every week or two, NOT regular small ones, you will spend more. If you are really committed to making headway quickly then unfortnately you can’t go out, it will eat up money like nothing else, try and see your friends in person at your house or theirs, you can be honest or say you don’t like the atmosphere. Cook in bulk using cheap ingredients - tinned and frozen food is a huge win. If you really want to cut down on spending make sure to buy vitamin pills and psyllium husk powder - you can eat less healthily without feeling like crap all the time if you’re eating stuff like this. If you want to eat super healthily try frozen mixed vegetables, tinned tomatoes, lentils, tinned fish, and tinned pulses all mixed together in a wok with smoked paprika and salt - it’s quite cheap, imo very tasty, and very healthy. 

Worth noting: over the course of a year your actual monthly spending is likely to be more liek £250 if you budget for £200 a month - you’ll need to replace phones and laptops and make big one off purchases occasionally, but remember the goal is saving, if you can avoid these costs then do (is your phone freezing for 20 seconds every half an hour really grounds for a replacement?) The £250 total spending per month is total spending - if you want to do something fun this should come out of other spending - not your savings 

Medications: inhousepharmacy is a good one - make sure to buy in bulk (this goes for everything). Don’t try and include this in monthly spending, try and include it in the £50 extra a month spending. Here is a good guide for the first purchase Cyproterone acetate - 300 50mg tablets for £202.22 (1 a day) Estrofem - 364 2mg tablets for £148.94 (start on 1 a day, maybe move up to two if you feel you need to and are comfortable) - take these sublingually to increase the effective dose without spending more. So, your overall cost of living per year should be approximately £10,700 - put the rest into premium bonds, you can take it out relatively easily and you’re guaranteed not to lose your money (if the UK government collapses you have bigger problems than your savings being gone).  If you’re earning £20k a year then you should be able to save £9,300 a year.  If you have the time and energy try getting into some work, especially gig economy work on top of your current job/time in university (deliveroo for example). 

GETTING TREATMENT  Before any of the savings stuff, before you are even sure you are trans, talk to your GP about it and say ytou want to be referred to a GIC. It will take 3 years - you will have plenty of time to find yourself within that time, and if you still haven’t you can find yourself in the GIC. DO NOT wait until you are absolutely sure before telling your GP, I know it is scary but you can do it, and it’s almost easier to do it when you’re not sure. If you wait for a year you will fucking hate yourself 2 years later when you have been waiting for treatment for what seems like your entire life at this point - and private GICs are expensive as fuck. 

If you can afford it go to a private GIC - if you want bottom or top surgery with any reputable surgery you will need to have been officially on hormones for a year, self-medding doesn’t count. There are a few options out there for you but most notably are genderGP (more expensive, but there is less expectation of you to prove you are trans, and they have no issue with previous self medding) and gendercare (less expensive but they may decide you are not quite trans enough - they are also less willing to take on patients who have previously self-medded). Additionally a lot of GPs will not work with (ie pay for the prescriptions for you on the recommendation of) any private GIC, but the ones that do are more willing to work with gendercare than genderGP - look into this more before deciding who you want to go with.  Do not underestimate the importance of the type of HRT you are using. Cyproterone acetate and oestrogen pills are fine. GnRH analogues and transdermal oestrogen patches work far more effectively and with fewer side effects (but GnRH analogues in particular are far more expensive). 

COMING OUT  Coming out all at once publically is gonna be really fucking daunting. You are gonna want to identify individuals and talk to them one on one about it first. These should be people you are close with and who you think are gonna be supportive (ideally both, not just one of the other, but prioritise those who you think are gonna be supportive first - you will gain confidence as you do it if you choose the right people, and lose it if you choose the wrong ones). You do not owe honesty to your parents about this. 

Once you have a good selection of people who you know who are supportive start thinking about how you want to play this - in particular how sure and scared you are. I decided to get FFS (facial feminisation surgery) BEFORE coming out publicly - but after 2 years on HRT (this restricts your choice of surgeons btw). I was absolutely certain before I did this and if you plan on doing this you should be too.  I got my surgery with Dr Jesus Baez in Guadalajara (lip lift, closed rhinoplasty, type t osteotomy, hairline advancement, eyebrow raise, forehead bone shaving) and it cost £12,000 for the surgery - but a lot more than that for everything else (so I spent around £16,000 in total - and that was being tight). However, that’s less than 2 years of saving on £20k a year, so get started now.  Voice training - do it, you can do it for free using transvoice on youtube - the main thing to practice if you have a deep, chest resonant voice is simply doing the *pah pah pah* exercise as often as you can (you can do it silently) and before you start talking to people. 

Also GPs can refer you for voice training directly, even if a GP is unwilling to work with a private GIC they might be willing to do with this (since there is no liability associated with referring you to train your voice more effectively). I haven’t done this but I expect there is gonna be a waiting list though. You really can’t voice train too often (though you can too much in one session).  HEALTH So as mentioned in the budgeting section it is very possible to eat healthily on a budget (well, the kind of budget I recommend, please please don’t try and push it too hard because you need to stay healthy for this - doctors, even gender specialists, are pretty unwilling to prescribe for trans health care because this country is transphobic, so you ideally want to be a picture of health before asking for treatment. Eat healthily, run, bulk up those legs and work that core (leg press, side leg raises with resistance band, crunches, squats, sit ups, reverse crunches, side crunches etc) - all of these things will a) improve the results of blood tests and make it easier to get a prescription, b) hopefully give you a body shape more in line with conventional standards for women and c) stimulate production of hgh which will make the estradiol more effective (but don’t even think of taking hgh as a medication without explicitly getting it prescribed by a doctor, it is seriously not worth it and it can fuck up your body a lot making it impossible to get effective treatment).  GOOD LUUUUCK!!!