#Stethoscope reviews

[starmocha]

12:30 PM Checkup [Zayne + Son ★ 767 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Zayne has an appointment with a very adorable doctor. A/N: Maybe I’m ovulating or something lmao but I want this man’s babies. But since he’s fictional, I’ll settle for writing little self-indulgent ficlets. 🫠

It was one of Zayne’s very few days off, and unfortunately, he found himself at the doctor’s office for a routine checkup. It was fortunate, however, that the doctor was someone he was very familiar with and trusted completely with his health. As a matter of fact, the very esteemed doctor was his three-year-old son and the so-called doctor’s office was his son’s bedroom.

He watched with amusement as the little boy, a spitting image of his father minus the hair color, adjusted his doctor play clothes. Zayne could barely contain his chuckle when his son put on the faux round-rimmed glasses and walked over to him holding a clipboard while maintaining a comically stoic expression on his young face.

“Patient’s name is…Daddy!” the young doctor declared, looking expectantly at his patient.

Zayne chuckled and nodded. “Correct, Doctor.”

“I have to listen to Daddy’s heart,” the little boy said, holding up his toy stethoscope. He pressed the toy to his father’s chest, and looked thoughtful as he “listened” to the grown man’s heart. After a few seconds, he nodded approvingly. “Heart is good, Daddy.”

Zayne sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, Doctor.” He blinked in surprise as his son pulled out a reflex hammer.

“Daddy’s knee now!”

Over the next few minutes, the young doctor performed a thorough examination on his patient, checking his ear, eyes, throat, and so on, all while diligently scribbling his notes down onto his clipboard. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he reviewed the notes from the wellness exam.

“Well, Doctor,” Zayne started, looking at the young boy expectantly, “Is there a diagnosis?”

The boy nodded grimly. “Daddy is tired.”

Zayne held back his laugh at the child’s acute observation. “What would be your prescription for such an ailment then?”

“One strawberry candy every day,” his doctor replied, adding another scribble to his clipboard.

Zayne actually chuckled this time. “Consider it done.” His voice took on a serious tone as he looked at the little doctor concerned. “Doctor, I believe my insurance isn’t covered under your practice. May I use an alternative payment?”

The young doctor looked thoughtful as he rubbed his chin again before holding up three chubby fingers, answering with a serious expression, “Three macarons.”

“Outrageous!” Zayne exclaimed, mock-offended, “My previous checkup only costed me one box of apple juice.”

Zayne wondered belatedly if his tone and expression might have seemed a touch stiff when he realized his doctor was starting to tear up. He knelt down to his son’s level and wiped at the boy’s eyes, apologizing softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Daddy is just joking.” He smiled when his son calmed down and he rubbed the boy’s cheek affectionately, “Three macarons it is, but I am afraid payment will have to be postponed until after naptime.”

“No nap!” The boy crossed his arms defiantly. “I still have to check Mr. Seal and Pan-Pan and the Windy Carrots and—”

“Even doctors take naps,” Zayne interrupted with a firm voice before softening it again, “One might even argue that doctors enjoy naps the most.”

The boy looked up at him dejected. “Do you nap, Daddy?”

“Yes,” Zayne answered with a nod as he helped his son remove the doctor costume and put away some of the toys. He gathered his son into his arms as he carried the little boy to his bed. “Sometimes I nap in my car or office in between surgeries.” He tucked his son into bed, kissing his cheek. “Now, won’t you be a good boy and take your nap for Daddy?”

“Story?” his son gave him the most pitiful pout a three-year-old can muster.

Zayne sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused. “You are just like your mother,” he muttered to himself before sitting down on the edge of the boy’s bed. “Alright, one story.”

Zayne outstretched his hand, conjuring up snowy imageries as he spun a tale with evil carrots that had taken over an innocent kingdom. Thankfully, one brave seal stood up against this evil force and taken them down along with help from Happy Snowman and its friends.

The boy watched the snowy scenery with rapt fascination as it changed following Zayne’s storytelling. As Zayne neared the end of his impromptu story, he noticed his son’s sleepy face, catching sight of a yawn escaping. He smiled to himself and quickly wrapped up the story as he re-tucked the sleepy boy into bed.

“Sweet dreams,” Zayne whispered, kissing the top of his son’s head as the little boy finally dozed off, “When you wake up, Daddy will take you and Mommy out for macarons.”

[squadmuse]

ONE DAY IN OCTOBER - Part II

A MATT CASEY X HALSTEAD!OFC FIC (Charlotte Halstead Casey)

A/N: Part two is here, and it’s slowly but steadily getting more and more exciting! 🔥 Please read & review what you think. This is set in s7 btw. PART I

Charlotte nodded absentmindedly as she walked over to her locker and opened it up. “Yeah that’s a good idea, but I might go home and sleep.”

“It’s been a while since the two of you have had one on one time together,” stated Will as he slouched against the cool metal furniture, his brown eyes watching as his sister shoved her pale pink stethoscope away and fumbled around in her handbag. “You could always nap there, it’s past morning now so he’ll be home like always.”

Turning to face Will, Charlotte hummed indecisively. Her brother did make a good point. She could easily nap at their dad’s new apartment and catch up with him still. “You make a good point.”

“Well, I’ve been known to have good ideas, Tater,” laughed Will as he moved to help his sister into her jacket.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at his reply and giggled loudly at it. “Was Veronica Maguire in high school one of those good ideas, Billy?” she returned, smiling cheekily.

“Ok, that was one of my bad ideas,” stated Will as he remembered back to his high school prom. Veronica’s father had chased him for what felt like half of Canaryville, all because she and Will had made out that night. “But usually I’m a fountain of good ideas!”

Charlotte couldn’t help the snort that slipped out, and it caused both Halstead siblings to laugh hard. “Well, aside from Veronica and some other questionable ideas I’ve seen from you, I’ll agree that seeing Pop is a better one. I can make sure he’s doing well, and his meds are working for him still.”

“He’s a stubborn old guy, but he’s not stupid,” said Will as he locked up Charlotte’s locker for her and began to walk with her out of the room.

“If you say so,” replied Charlotte as she pulled her handbag higher up on her shoulder. “Like Mom used to say, we’ve all got that well-meaning Halstead spunk that makes us do stupid things.”

The two siblings laughed again at their Mom’s old joke. Charlotte knew she was lucky to have such a close bond with not only Will, but Jay also, and especially after they had lost their mother.

“Mom would kick his ass if he didn’t take his meds, probably will do so from heaven.”

“Damn right.”

It didn’t take long for Charlotte to leave Med, saying goodbye to Will in her dark blue SUV. He had made sure to walk there, even though he did not need to.

The two had decided that if Charlotte was going to go visit their dad, that she should pick up his prescriptions and some healthy food. Pat Halstead was a great connoisseur of all things fatty and greasy, which, after a quadruple bypass, wasn’t the best choice at all. Luckily, there were both stores on the way to the new apartment.

She had left Will at Med just after half nine, and after sending a quick text to Matt saying she had just left and for him to stay safe, Charlotte had happily arrived home and promptly fell asleep.

This pregnancy was definitely taking more and more out of her, especially if she didn’t keep moving or occupied. But Charlotte knew she wouldn’t have it any other way, both her and Matt wanted nothing more than their own baby, and this little one inside her was so wanted and cherished already.

Charlotte had never seen her dad cry other than when her mom had died and when she had married Matt, but Pat had teared up when she had told him he was going to be grandpa. He had already been helping Matt put together ideas for the nursery, the two bonding over their love of carpentry, woodworking and construction.

Standing in the doorway of the pastel green nursery after waking from her nap, Charlotte smiled at the painted white rocking chair next to the window. Even with a serious heart condition and waiting for his surgery, her dad had determinedly made the chair for his future grandchild’s first room. It was beautiful and she had definitely cried a ton.

Sighing, Charlotte decided to go take a quick shower and then head out to see her dad. Like Will had said, their dad had a routine and would be home now, most likely watching a baseball game on the television.

The sun was still shining as Charlotte drove through the streets of Chicago, and it just seemed like a good day to her.

It had been a quick effort to pick up some healthy foods for her dad, including some homemade low-cholesterol ready meals that she had found in the food store. The pharmacy had taken a little while longer, but Charlotte didn’t mind, and she had made sure to pick up a new oxygen tank with a mask for her dad. Luckily, he wouldn’t need to use it. But it was always good to have if the need appeared out of nowhere.

Even the loving text and sweet voicemail that Matt had left while she was asleep had made her mood even more irreversibly chipper, but her husband always had that effect on her. It just felt like one of those days where nothing could or would go wrong and Charlotte was happily relishing in it as she sang along to Taylor Swift in the car.

When she did finally arrive at the new high rise apartment building, Charlotte made sure to find a parking spot around the back. It was usually used only by the building’s occupants, but her dad had given her his permission badge to display it in her own car. He didn’t want her walking too far nowadays at six months pregnant.

Charlotte had just opened the trunk of her car and was bringing out the groceries and pharmacy bags, when she felt someone appear at her side and her green eyes quickly darted to her right-hand side and to the figure who stood there. Gasping, Charlotte placed a hand on her chest.

“Mrs Aquino, goodness you scared me there!” exclaimed Charlotte softly as she quickly smiled at the older woman. Her husband, Mr. Aquino, or Bert as he liked to be called, had been a friend of her dad’s since he had moved in, and Charlotte always made sure to be polite to the couple. It wasn’t hard, they were lovely.

Mrs. Aquino waved her hand dismissively. “My apologies dear, I just saw you on your own and had to come help!” she replied sweetly, moving to take two of the bags from her, leaving Charlotte with two also. “I still haven’t met that lovely husband of yours yet, we keep seeming to miss each other.”

“Yeah, Matt doesn’t have normal shifts at the firehouse,” replied Charlotte as she and Mrs. Aquino moved to walk into the building lobby. “That and his construction company keeps him busy, but I know he’d love to meet you too.”

Mrs. Aquino nodded as she pressed the elevator button. “He sounds like a good man, and that is all you can ask for nowadays,” stated the elder woman, glancing up at Charlotte with a wise look in her eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be a great father to your little one.”

“That I know,” replied Charlotte, unable to keep the broad smile off her face at the mention of her husband as a father. She and everyone around knew Matt Casey was perfect fatherhood material and would excel at it. “This little one is very lucky to have him.”

Luckily, there were not many people getting on the elevator today, and Charlotte didn’t have much time to talk to Mrs. Aquino as they approached the twentieth floor, where she lived. Promising to keep in touch, they had said goodbye, and Charlotte had kept herself in the elevator until it reached the twenty-third floor, where her father’s new apartment was.

Coughing slightly, she stepped out onto the soft carpet and made her way down the corridor to apartment 23C, the home of one Patrick Joseph Halstead. The door was unlocked when Charlotte went to open it as she knocked, which was unsurprising.

“Pop?” called Charlotte out into the apartment as she closed the door behind her. “It’s me, Charlotte.”

Pat Halstead’s head popped out of the kitchen doorway, and he smiled ever so slightly before making his way over to his daughter as he gave her a one-armed hug. She was the only one he ever really smiled at or showed affection to nowadays, since his wife and her mom had died.

“What are you doing here, Charlie Bear?” asked a surprised Pat Halstead, using his own nickname for his only daughter.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her dad’s comment. “What do you think?” she replied, chuckling slightly, motioning to the bags on the ground. “Here to spend some time with my old man!”

Pat grumbled. “I don’t need you taking care of me girl, you have enough to do,” he told Charlotte, but he quickly took the bags from her. “I bet that idiot bellhop downstairs didn’t help you with the bags?”

“Pop, he’s a receptionist, not a bellhop,” sighed Charlotte as she followed her father into his kitchen. He had the window open, and there was a great view of Chicago from where Charlotte found herself among the white tiles and gray walls.

Pat waved his hand in the air. “Bullshit, you’re pregnant, and he didn’t help. What kind of man doesn’t help a pregnant woman?”

“I parked around behind, so I didn’t see him and Mrs. Aquino took some until we got to the elevator,” replied Charlotte as she pulled out one of the kitchen table’s chairs and sat down. “Oh, apparently Bert wants to know if you’re going to poker night next week by the way.”

Pat nodded as he sorted through the bags, huffing whenever Charlotte tried to get up and help. “I’ll call him later, Ronnie won big time last time,” he said, looking back at her.

“That’s good, how is Ronnie?” asked Charlotte. She had met Ronnie a few times now, and he was a nice guy. Her dad seemed to look out for him as he was in a wheelchair after a wartime injury.

“Doing well, got into a new VA group yesterday morning.”

“That’s great news,” said Charlotte happily, her eyes alight with genuine joy for the veteran. “We could go see him with some lunch. I brought bagels and soup with more than enough for us both.”

Pat agreed before going silent as he opened up the pharmacy bag.

“You can go on ahead, I’m just going to find somewhere to shove this blasted thing,” he grumbled, pointing at the new oxygen tank.

“Hey, don’t attack it, you never know when you might need it,” replied Charlotte seriously.

“I’m fine. It’s just heart surgery that I’ve had, and you four kids keep treating me like I’m some sort of cripple!” retorted Pat as he walked out of the room, leaving Charlotte alone with her thoughts.

After a while, Charlotte decided to go up to see Ronnie herself as she knew her dad would eventually make his way up to the twenty-fifth floor apartment.

Leaving Pat to watch yet another baseball game, she smiled and made her way to the elevator for the second time that day, and pressed a painted nail against the little button to open it up.

However, it was as she stood there waiting, that Charlotte noticed that the elevator didn’t seem to be working all of a sudden and she harrumphed loudly. Now she was going to have to walk up two floors of stairs while six months pregnant and then two back down to her dad’s apartment.

She just hoped that it would be working again later, the thought of walking twenty-three floors of stairs down to the bottom made Charlotte want to burst into tears.

Undeterred, the youngest Halstead continued on her way and pushed open the door to the south stairway. It was only then that she smelled a scent that was oddly familiar, as if someone had burned a roast or something similar. Shaking her head, Charlotte started to climb the way up to the top floor.

It was probably nothing.

[forthelostones]

𝚙𝚝.𝚘𝚗𝚎 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. this is something i just thought of idk, maybe a series who knows! i am thinking abt putting this on ao3 too!

(no y/n)

wc: 2.4k

The noise you dreaded hearing the most pulled at your heart, jolting you wide awake at 4:45 a.m. You roll over to the screaming phone and detonate your alarm for clinical. Not even one minute later you get a message from your neighbor, Abby, who is also your classmate. 

Anderson: Rise and shine Dummy. 

In the final year of your nursing program, every day became harder. You feel your body morph back into the cavernous mark you left in the mattress, so warm, you could just… You let your heart settle before you toss your feet off the edge of your mattress, tuck your feet into your slippers, and head to the bathroom. You couldn’t risk the temptation of laying back in bed. On clinical days you were the most nervous but it felt real, like what you had been working towards was actually obtainable. These days were also the longest, so mentally preparing for that was a large part of your success. 

You slip your legs into your light blue scrubs and grab your backpack that was heavy with supplies. Flickering all the lights off and then slipping into your shoes you open the door to find Abby in the corridor at 5:20, ready to head out. You pull your hand over your hair in an attempt to parry any imperfections you might’ve missed in the mirror. She had her keys laced in between her fingers, peering down at her watch. Her scrubs were pressed and well-fitted, hugging her thighs comfortably and falling just above her ankle. Her arms bulged out of the cap-sleeved top complimented with a slick back bun, and her badge attached at the hip, perfectly placed. Meanwhile, you were struggling to find clean scrubs this morning, do your hair, and search for your badge floating in the mess called your backpack. 

“Ready?” She muttered. 

You just nodded your head with your eyes fluttering, fighting off any lingering sleep. 

Ever since freshman year, you have been deeply inspired by Abby. She always aced her tests and made it her mission to become a real nursing student. Which sometimes meant taking on more than she could chew. In one of your entry levels, sophomore term, you became her patient — or dummy — for the year. Your professor explained the patient's situation and you sat limply, very anxious. 

“Anderson, go ‘head.” Your professor spat. 

“Hello, I’m Nurse Anderson, I’m here to take some vitals.” 

You just nodded your head as her large hands reached for her stethoscope, heading towards your back. 

“Come on you need to be a better dummy than that.” Your professor said. 

Her comment made Abby break character and laugh, since then, you’ve been her Dummy. 

You settled into the passenger seat, letting the familiar scent of pine infiltrate your senses. On clinical days Abby insisted on driving you both to the sites. Abby was meticulous about everything and you noticed that early on. Her car was in pristine condition, even though it wasn’t very new. There was no trash or any misplaced items, it was faultless, and it baffled you how she kept up with life and school. 

“Wanna review notes?” She suggested. 

“No, I didn’t get any sleep last night I was studying for Pharma. Didn’t finish the midterm study guide we made until 1 a.m.” 

“Shit. Today’s gonna be rough for you.” She said, pushing the button to start the car and turning the heat on, which made you sleepier. The sun wasn’t even peaking out yet, and you cuddled up to the window listening to Abby mutter off terminology that turned into nothingness as you fell into a sleepy abyss. 

“Dummy. Hey, we’re here.” She said tapping your thigh. 

You had really fallen asleep and were embarrassed at how deeply and easily it happened. The sun was dull in the sky and you shuddered at the cool air as you opened the door. 

The NICU was peaceful. A few of your classmates were cooing over the babies with the instructor, while Abby was observing and taking notes while they were talking. 

“Sorry, another question —" she’d probed, with her iPad in hand. Watching her scribble small annotations and pictures distracted you. Her brows would dip into each other, mentally absorbing every small detail, you just stared at her until she caught you. 

“You’re staring again.” She’s said many-a-times. 

“Anderson, can you send me your notes after?” Mel asked as we packed up our book bags to head out of the hospital. Of course, Abby obliged, even though she and Mel were coveted enemies, she would photo-copy them and email her notes anyway. 

“I don’t know why you even entertain her.” You whispered. 

“I feel bad, she’s struggling, least I can do is help her out.” She shrugged. 

Back at your apartment building Abby invited you to her to drink a little, and you couldn’t say no. Due to the fact that you lived next to each other and that Abby was introverted, you were one of her few friends. But then again you didn’t know much about her outside of being classmates. You changed into sweats and then walked into Abby wearing a tank top and grey shorts. The white, ribbed fabric clung perfectly to her chest, exposing the outlines of her upper body, hugging the cusps of her breasts. Which made you lock your eyes sweetly onto her without fault. She had set out two glasses and brought a bottle of wine to the coffee table in front of the TV. 

Her apartment was cozy, the temperature was perfect, it always smelled nice, and the warm lighting was inviting. You sigh as you join her on the couch, it felt good to sit down, not to mention on something other than your shitty couch. She grinned as she handed you the glass. 

“Now what’s this?” You smirk. 

“Just Prosecco, to start.” 

You both keep eye contact as you take the first sips. Her lips perched onto the edge of the glass and while she was staring into your eyes, they drifted slightly downwards to the pinky pillows on her face. She raised her eyebrows and peered into her glass with a nod of approval. 

“I think today went well, I wouldn’t mind —"  

“No school talk.” You interject.

“Oh, so now you wanna be like friends?” She smirked. 

“I mean…” You trail.

She shrugged as she took another sip. “It’s not. I’m pretty boring.” 

“Come on, talk to me.” 

She was pressed into the opposite corner of the couch, but you felt inclined to lean in more and inch closer to her body. She tucked her leg under herself, so you really saw the stretch of her willpower. Her quads leading up to her thighs were sucking you in like a lazy river guiding you to her estuary. 

“Well, I hit a new number at the gym.” 

“Is that why you’re wearing this little number tonight?” 

Her face turns pink as she turns her head away in guilt. You watched her break into a nervous laugh pressing her lips together tightly. 

“What’s the point if I can’t gloat?” 

You both share a silence for a moment before she composes herself as she feels the heat of your eyes on her. Your vision trailed from her thighs back to her warm eyes. Her fingers turn white while she pinches the stem of the glass. 

“You make it hard to look away, so I don’t blame you.” 

“See, I told you I’m boring.” She said ignoring your comment. 

“I guess I’m curious to see what goes on in that brain of yours. How can you be so put together and still be sane while everyone else is drowning? I admire you so much but I think you’re fucking crazy.” 

She reaches up to her scalp to remove the ponytail holder that held back her blonde locks. Her hair falls just above her chest in a long bob, perfectly cut, not a wrinkle from the hair band anywhere.

“My dad was a surgeon so I guess I became familiar with his lifestyle while growing up. He was crazier than me, super detailed, borderline obsessive,” She glanced toward the ground. “He’s the reason I’m here.” 

“Is he still working or did he retire.” 

She dipped her head down and sipped the last dribbles of her wine, “He passed away a while ago. Just before I came to university.” 

“Abs, sorry.” 

You didn’t have the right words, no one ever did with that type of thing. 

“Ah, it’s fine. So, I just bought this new mezcal, I’ll be right back.” 

She ran to the kitchen and brought shot glasses. 

“So you want me tipsy or what?”

“Just enjoy this with me?” 

Her request was soft and inviting, how could you even think of saying no. She poured more alcohol into the small glasses, “Come here.” she demanded. 

Her command made the pit of your stomach wobble. She took her right arm and looped it with yours, pulling you into her. You didn’t realize it but your heart was beating faster than its resting rate. Her skin was so warm and her hair smelled like honey, her bicep was curling against yours and suddenly you realized your lack of muscle. She lifted the glass to her lips and you followed, not breaking eye contact, her arm tightened, pulling you upwards slightly. She took the shot like a fucking champ. You pull away gasping. 

“So smooth.” She teased. 

“Sure.” You gagged. 

She tucked a strand behind her ear and licked her lips, looking at you fight a fire. She gets a notification on her watch and instantly breaks the tension. You see her eyes light up and a smile creeps up as she reaches for her phone and begins pecking at the screen. You didn’t understand but you felt slightly jealous of whoever was interrupting your night.

“Who’s thattt.” You say in a sing-song voice. 

“What? No one, it’s just a friend.” 

“The fact that you told me it was a friend tells me…” 

“Fine. It’s Nora, remember from freshman bio?” 

“The TA? What? How didn’t I know any of this?” 

“No, because it’s nothing. She’s in grad school, we rekindled recently — I don’t know it was random.” 

“Abby, you are literally blushing.” 

It was true, her skin had turned to the likes of a strawberry. She looked up to you and shoved you in a playful way, slightly embarrassed. You shove her back and she tosses her phone and retaliates. In one swift moment in between the laughter, she pinned you down on the couch cushions. You look up at her, hair flowing into your face, her straddling your legs, and an unwavering smile. Her phone dings with another message which she ignores and it makes you stifle your breathing. 

“You should get that.” You whisper. “And why is that?” She tilts her head playfully. 

She stumped you, no smart rebuttal this time. Another notification slides through and she finally releases you from her grasp. She runs her hand through her hair and reads the messages slightly biting her lip. 

“Well what did she say, come on.” You say leaning over to which she pulls away. 

“No! I, okay. You. Okay. Okay okay.” 

She looked and sounded like a teenager nervous about a pending text. 

“So, context, I told her I was unwinding you know after clinical… So, she said ‘ah, the best. how do you unwind’ right? So I just said, drinking a little, letting my body settle in, you know comfy — being comfy. She said ‘maybe I can help?” Like okay, that means… what I think right. Anyway, I said, how can you help? She said ‘tell me what you have on and I can assess the situation.’” 

You sat taken aback at her brute honesty. 

“So.”

“She’s flirting, isn’t she?” Her eyes sunk at this discovery. 

“Indeed she is.” 

You felt a sense of betrayal, fucking Nora, you thought. 

“Help, what do I say. You know better than me.” She admitted. 

“I am so honored you want my help. Say it again.” You scooch closer. 

She refused. “You know what never-mind.” 

“Abbbbyyy, say it.” 

A minute passes before she finally gives in. “You know better than me.” 

Suddenly you became an expert for Anderson. 

“Let me see your phone.” 

She was hesitant but finally handed it over. You type a possible reply with her looking over your shoulder. 

“What? I’m not wearing a lacey thong.” 

A bit of you wished she was.

“Abby, it doesn’t have to be true.” 

“Yes okay. Red thong. Send it. No-no, just say nothing. I mean that’s more realistic right, oh add that I just got out the shower.” 

She replied instantly. 

Naked, just for me?  

“Why would she say it like that?” Her face turned sour. 

Not for you, just me and my eyes only, you reply. 

“Okay, I like that.” 

When can I see you? 

Abby took her phone back and turned it off while you two shared loud laughs. 

“Fuck, I am not good at this flirting stuff.” She groaned. 

“So, I finally found what you’re not good at, huh?”

She flicked her eyes up at you and away, she was hiding something, a secret. 

“Abigail…” you trail. 

“What.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“Have you ever been with someone before?” 

Deep down you knew the answer. Her ability to not get wrapped up in bullshit led to her hyper-focus on life and not the fun parts. 

“I mean, describe with.” She said going back to the fridge. 

“Had sex with, made out with, also just dated.” 

She brought back two bottles of cider, her lips already pressed to one. You grab yours by the neck patiently awaiting her answer. She just sips her cider.

“Abby,” you say theatrically. “What is it, no one has tickled your fancy or maybe you’re too much of a workaholic to prioritize your needs.” 

Her mouth fell open slightly. “The second one. I’ve gotten there but something always felt off.” 

Hearing Abby talk about sex made you giggle, she couldn’t even mutter the word. Your mind swarmed with all the stuff you could teach her, the positions you could put her in, and the way you would make her feel. 

“Hmmhm.”

“Wait, what the fuck does that mean.” 

“What?” 

“Hmmhm.” She mocks.

“It’s nothing, right now it means I should go, we have Pharma remember. This has been fun,” you stand. “Good night Anderson.” 

You reach out to nip her chin with your cold hand and in that moment when peered at you through those thick lashes you could melt.

“Good night, Dummy.” She smiled goofily.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 11: The Date

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

A week later and about two weeks before the event at which you knew Cillian would be attending, you ran into Max at hospital as he was attending a follow up appointment with James, who was somewhat concerned about his heart murmur. 

Save for a few bruises and cuts that had not yet healed, Max looked relatively fine. 

His face had a gaunt appearance, though, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He wore a pair of black jeans and a plain white t-shirt that was wrinkled and loose. It was obvious that he hadn't slept well since the accident happened and you wondered whether he was doing alright.

"Hey," you greeted him cautiously, remembering your recent conversation with him where he asked you out on a date, but you declined. "How are you doing?" you wanted to know nonetheless, and Max glanced at you briefly and gave a faint smile.

"Yeah, I am alright," he muttered, his voice rough and strained. "How about you?" he then asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm good, thanks," you reassured him, hoping to put his worries at ease as James approached you both, giving you a knowing look of admiration before addressing Max in a professional manner.

"Max," said James, extending his hand out to greet him. "You are looking better," he acknowledged while shaking Max's hand firmly. 

"Thanks, Doc," Max replied, shaking James's hand firmly. "I am feeling better too," Max smiled again weekly before James asked you both to follow him to one of the consultation rooms. 

"You want me to come?" you asked surprised, looking at James with confusion. 

"Yes," James confirmed. "If you don't mind," he went on to say before asking you whether you could take some vitals and run an ECG for Max while he was reviewing Max's records. 

"Sure, James," you stammered reluctantly, feeling a little uncomfortable by the prospect of performing medical tests on your very own ex-boyfriend. "Of course," you added nonetheless, glancing at Max who shrugged casually.

"Alright, then," said James, leading you both to a consultation room.

Once inside, James gestured for Max to sit down on the examination table, while he busied himself with paperwork.

You eyed Max skeptically before explaining the procedures to him.

"So Max, I will start by taking your vitals and then we will perform an electrocardiogram to monitor your heart's electrical activity for about 15 minutes," you shared, handing him a consent form. "This should show whether your murmur has resolved or not," you explained, and Max hesitated for a moment before signing the paper and handing it back to you.

Knowing what was required from his days at med school, Max then took off his t-shirt and James walked out of the room in order to get another file from his office. 

"Isn't he a bit old for you?" Max asked as soon as James disappeared and you began attaching electrodes to his bare chest. 

"Excuse me?" you asked, puzzled by Max's sudden question. "What are you talking about?" you

asked Max, curious to know whom he was referring to.

"The cardiologist," Max answered, his reply raising an eyebrow. "You called him by his first name, and I can see the way he is looking at you," Max added, his gaze falling on the floor before returning to meet yours. "He is like what? Mid-thirties?" he finally told you, rolling his eyes in disgust. 

You stared at Max for a second, feeling slightly annoyed by his insinuation. "He is in his mid-thirties, yes. But we are not dating, if that's what you're implying," you retorted defensively, picking up the clipboard hanging on the wall and scribbling numbers down. "And even if we were, it wouldn't be any of your business, Max. We are not together anymore," you retorted firmly, placing the clipboard back on the wall and taking out a stethoscope to listen to Max's heart.

"I get it, you're hurt because I ended things between us, but don't try to make me feel guilty about men who show an interest in me," you snapped while placing the bell of the stethoscope on Max's chest, listening closely to his heartbeat.

"Please don't flatter yourself Y/N. I don't care about who you are dating or sleeping with these days. I was simply curious," Max argued, staring directly into your eyes with an unreadable expression while you continued to listen to his heartbeat, focusing on the rhythmic lub-dub of his pulse. "In fact, I have been seeing someone else too," Max revealed, his words catching you off guard. "Someone who actually likes me for who I am," he added, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice. "Not for who they want me to be," he finished, casting a pointed glance at you.

You recoiled in disbelief, feeling annoyed by Max's judgmental comment. You tried to brush off the hurt, maintaining your composure.

"Well, that's great, Max," you said, feigning happiness. "I am happy for you," you forced a smile just as James walked back into the room and started some shit-chat after noticing the tension between you and Max. 

"I have seen your father's movie the other day. I thought that it was really good," James commented, shifting the topic abruptly while reading the vitals. 

"Yeah, it was okay," Max responded dismissively before asking about his health.

"So, Doctor, what's the verdict?" Max asked nervously, crossing his legs.

James, still distracted by your heated exchange, cleared his throat loudly before responding. "Well, Max, based on today's tests, your heart murmur seems to have improved on the medication," he announced, his tone optimistic. "We can continue monitoring your condition with regular check-ups to ensure it doesn't cause any problems. It usually doesn't if it's mild, but it is always good to keep an eye on these things," he advised, reaching for a pen to write something down on Max's chart. Max visibly relaxed, relief washing over his face.

"That's great news," he exhaled, cracking a genuine smile. "So, I can go, yeah?" 

Max asked, already reaching for his shirt.

"Yeah, but don't forget to take your antibiotics for another week," James reminded him.

"I won't," Max promised, waving goodbye to both of you and vanishing into the hallway.

"You guys got beef or something?" James teased once he was gone, his voice horse but sarcastic.

"What do you think?" you rolled your eyes, seeing that James knew about the issues between you and Max. 

"Well, I think that you shouldn't have gotten involved with this kid in the first place," suggested James, his voice light but serious. "He seems too immature for you and seeing that his mother already called me five times for a letter to the insurance company, I believe that he is also quite a mommy's boy which is a major red flag, wouldn't you agree?" he continued, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, well, we aren't together anymore, aren't we?" you replied vaguely, thinking about your past relationship with Max.

"No, luckily for me, you are not," James then winked at you, squeezing your shoulder teasingly. "Which brings me to my question again," he added. "How about dinner tonight, after work?" James asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely.

"Just dinner?" you asked shyly, eager to escape the awkwardness lingering between you and, after James nodded in agreement, you accepted his invitation. 

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven," James confirmed, flashing you a warm smile before leaving the room quietly.

The afternoon dragged on endlessly, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the dinner plans and the upcoming event with Cillian. The anticipation of seeing him again made your heart race with both, excitement and dread, while, at the same time, you looked forward to your date with James and found yourself constantly checking the clock, eagerly awaiting the end of your shift.

By six o'clock, you rushed home to freshen up and change into something more comfortable and appealing.

You opted for a black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places - it was simple yet elegant, perfect for a casual dinner with a colleague.

After applying minimal makeup and tying your hair up in a messy bun, you checked your reflection in the mirror.

Satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your purse and locked the door behind you.

Outside, the air was chilly, but the scent of summer lingered in the atmosphere.

You hurried down the steps and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw James' car pull up in front of the student accommodation complex.

"You look beautiful," he complimented as you climbed into the passenger seat. You thanked him with a bright smile that showed how much his kind words meant to you.

"So, where are we going?" you asked excitedly, fastening your seatbelt.

"I booked a table at Gordon Ramsay's new restaurant in town," James admitted proudly, grinning ear to ear. "It's supposed to be amazing, and, at this stage, you only get in with connections," he added, adjusting the rearview mirror.

"But, hey, don't worry," he quickly added. "I've got friends in high places," he chuckled confidently, knowing that his reputation often opened doors for him.

"Right," you responded quietly, adjusting your seat belt while cringing internally at his arrogance before ignoring the comment nonetheless. 

"Anyway," you changed the subject lightly, "thanks for arranging this for us. I am sure it will be an unforgettable experience," you forced out a smile before leaning forward slightly to observe the busy streets of London passing by as you drove to the exclusive eatery.

"Oh, you're welcome," James replied humbly, turning the key in the ignition and pulling away smoothly and, within less than 20 minutes, you arrived at the bustling restaurant.

"Ready, gorgeous?" James asked flirtatiously, opening the car door for you to step out elegantly, and you nodded, feeling your nerves kick in as you followed the maître d'hôtel inside.

"Welcome to Gordon Ramsay's new venture," the hostess greeted you politely, guiding you both to a cozy corner booth and, without even giving you the chance to look at the menu, James ordered a bottle of champaign and two set banquets. 

"Thank you," you whispered softly, taking a sip of the crisp sparkling wine whilst watching the waiters scurrying around, serving the patrons with deft precision. Intrigued by the culinary creations, you peeked at the dishes served around you and, as you gazed around appreciatively, your gaze landed on a familiar figure who sat across the room.

"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, a knot forming in your stomach.

"What's wrong?" James asked worriedly, swiveling in his chair to look at the source of your distress.

"Nothing," you lied, averting your gaze, but James had already noticed who you were looking at. 

"Shit, is that Christopher Nolan?" James asked, squinting across the restaurant where Cillian was sitting, accompanied by the famous director and his wife.

"I don't know," you mumbled, averting your gaze and sipping your champagne. "Maybe," you agreed, desperately wanting to change the subject as you noticed Cillian spotting you. 

Cillian's gaze met yours almost instantly and his eyes widened in recognition while the knot in your stomach tightened, and you prayed that he would not come over and talk to you. 

Unfortunately for you though, fate had different plans, and Cillian stood up after seemingly excusing himself from his companions.

He crossed the restaurant toward you, and as he drew nearer, your heart pounded against your rib cage, threatening to burst free.

You sucked in a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable collision with Cillian while James appeared cheerful to meet the famous actor again. 

"Y/N, how are you?" Cillian murmured before also greeting James. "Doctor Connor," he addressed your companion politely while shaking his hand in a professional manner. "It's nice to see you again," Cillian greeted him warmly, his gaze then shifting over to you, waiting for an answer. 

"I am good Cillian," you managed to squeak out, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. "How about you?" you asked Cillian, trying to remain composed. 

"Not bad," Cillian responded shyly, running a hand through his cropped hair. "Just busy, I suppose," he admitted, casting a fleeting glance at James before turning his attention back to you. "So," he continued, his voice dropping to a lower register. "I guess I will see you at the charity dinner in two weeks?" he asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Yeah, I guess so," you responded weakly, feeling cornered by the situation.

"Great," Cillian replied, his voice sounding triumphant. "Looking forward to it," he added, his eyes twinkling inadvertently. 

You swallowed hard, forcing a weak smile back at him while nodding politely. Without saying anything further, Cillian bid you both farewell and returned to his table.

"Well, that was unexpected," James uttered, looking dumbfounded. "And he seems rather weird around you," he added, his brow furrowing. "Why is that?" James then asked curiously and you shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, probably because I used to date his son and things didn't end well. I don't know," you sighed, scratching your head nervously. "So, I guess it's complicated," you added, gulping down your champagne and, luckily, James did not enquire any further. 

Instead, he decided to steer the conversation towards more pleasant topics, such as your favorite movies and TV shows.

As time passed, the restaurant filled up quicker than expected, and the ambiance grew more vibrant. The laughter and clinking glasses merged with a lively musical score, adding to the enchanting evening and it wasn't until 10 o'clock that you called it a night. 

James asked you whether you wanted to come back to his place and stay there for the night but you declined his offer, insisting that you wanted to return home alone.

Thus, just a like a gentleman would, he drove you back to your apartment complex, dropped you off at the door and gave you a kiss on the cheek, promising to see you again tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said before driving away, leaving you standing there in the dark, staring at his car disappearing into the distance.

A sense of unease washed over you as you let yourself into your building, thinking about the encounter with Cillian earlier. He seemed distant yet oddly aware of the connection between you.

There was a sense of longing in his eyes, a desire hidden beneath layers of restraints and, with that, your thoughts drifted to him now once again. 

You longed for him too and, as if he was reading your mind, a message from Cillian popped up on your phone at 10.35pm.

"You looked beautiful in that dress," was all that he wrote and, yet, somehow, those few words had the power to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within you, causing you to be both upset and smitten by his comment. 

Still standing at your doorstep, your fingers hovering over the keys, unsure how to respond to Cillian's message, you felt a strong urge to confront him about how abruptly he had ended things between you, but then again you also understood where he was coming from. He was a married man after all. He was much older than you too and, let's not forget that he is also your ex-boyfriend's father.

The odds were against you, but there was something magnetic about Cillian, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

But how could you give in to your desires? How could you possibly risk breaking up a family for the sake of your own selfish needs? And what about James? Was he just a distraction or could he become something more than just a friend?

These questions remained with you for the next two weeks leading up to the charity dinner, filling your mind with constant uncertainty which, however, in the end, evolved into nothingness when you saw him again at the event, looking handsome as ever, wearing a grey suit matched with a white buttoned up shirt. 

To be continued...

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[jennelikejennay]

There's an experience a lot of aspec people have where they do like the idea of sex, just not of themselves participating in it. So they get off from porn, erotica, voyeurism, etc but they don't want to be touched sexually themselves. Everything is better second-hand.

I could go on and on about this: about what the appeal is, about why it's so frequently taken as problematic or fetishizing, about how a person who feels this way (cough, me) can have sex in ways that are satisfying to them and the people they love. I even wrote a fic about it (although normally, I'm writing fics because of it, not about it).

But today I just want to talk about the name.

See I mentioned it and somebody said "oh that's called aegosexual."

A: Greek for not

Ego: both Latin and Greek for I

Sexual: latinate suffix meaning, well, sexual. Generally used with reference to attraction.

Not-me-sexual.

I hate it SO MUCH. Not as an aspec person so much as as a classicist. Who is coining these things and have they even been peer-reviewed?!

First off, the a- Greek prefix becomes an- before a vowel, such as in anemia and anarchy. Putting a+e together makes a diphthong ae which is pronounced differently in ecclesiastical Latin (ā), classical Latin (ī), American English (usually ā) and British English (often ē). So faced with aegosexual I simply don't know how to pronounce it. Is this one of those words, like Latinx or m/m, that we readily use online but suddenly hang fire when we have to say it out loud? A word that works in only one medium is nonfunctional. So somebody better decide how we're all saying it or we'll be having a gif/gif debate forever.

Second, there's a general rule that we use Greek roots with other Greek roots and Latin with Latin. Hence why we say astronomy and not stellonomy, stethoscope and not thorascope. I will admit that we break this rule all the time: homosexual rather than similisexual or homoerotic, automobile rather than automaton or ipsemobile. Still, all things being equal I would prefer nonegosexual or perhaps sinegosexual (without-me-sex) just for the sake of smoothness. I'm discounting anegoerotic because of the two vowels in a row problem.

But then I start thinking, why are we defining this thing by what it's not? I don't mean I'm not attracted to myself (I think I'm cute, transporter clones please call me). I don't mean I will grudgingly accept sex so long as it doesn't involve me. I mean I actively am into sex that doesn't involve me. I tried calling it third-person sexuality but in English we can't compound with English roots really.

So let's go back to the drawing board!

The Greek pronouns for self and others are taken: autosexual means you're into yourself, allosexual means you're into other people (as opposed to ace). But the Latin ones are all wide open, and Latin is what I want, to go with sexual.

Latin has tons and tons of pronouns. SO MANY PRONOUNS. Nonbinary Romans would be looking at an absolute banquet. Along with our usual me, you, it, etc, we have a raft of pronouns which work well for distinguishing different subjects in their long-ass sentences. So you have hic, this, but you also have ipse, That, you know, The One, Himself, Her Upstairs. It's mildly emphatic. Then you have iste, which means something like "that over by you," but sometimes also kind of "that one, ugh." When a sentence begins Iste Caesar you know the author isn't a huge fan of Caesar. Like saying "your Caesar, not mine." But it could be more like istud poculum, hey can you pass that cup, the cup over by you? All of these are of course available in all three genders, two numbers, and five cases, giving us 30 forms to learn for each. Yay!

The one I want for this purpose is ille. It's the most general kind of that. Rather than "this by me" and "that by you," ille is "that over there, not near either of us."

So what about illesexual? Attracted to something over there in which neither you nor I am involved at all?

illesexual

What do you think, is it too late to make this happen?

[kme-2020]

5

I walked down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps quiet but quick. I glanced over my shoulder, not wanting to be caught, even though it was after hours at the clinic. I swept my eyes from right to left as I opened the door to one of the conference rooms and slid inside. I glanced at my phone and re-read your text “meet me in 15, usual spot”. That was 12 minutes ago. I had three minutes to get ready. I glanced out the window and watched as the last of my colleague’s cars drove away. I sighed and looked down at my navy blue scrubs. I removed my badge and set it down on the table, my portrait smiling back up at me with “Stephanie, RN” written underneath in block letters. I paced back and forth, waiting. I loved our secret meetings- a perk to working at the same clinic at your fiancé.

The door clicked behind me and I spun around as you slipped into the room, eyes darting up and down the hallway like mine did. I smiled to myself, admiring your dark hair and tall, muscular body. Our eyes met and you smiled. “Hey” I whispered as I walked over, stretching up on the tips of my toes. You leaned down to kiss my lips and circled your arms around my waist, pulling me close. “Hey babe”, your deep voice breaking the silence in the room. I leaned back and smiled, searching your face. “Is everyone gone?” I asked. “Just about” you replied. I nodded and moved my hands to gently squeeze your biceps visible under your maroon scrubs. My eyes landed on your stethoscope, still hanging around your neck. I kissed my lips to the stethoscope’s bell and said “are you going to need this?”. A coy look crossed your face. “Maybe…” you replied. You removed your badge and placed it beside mine, the words “Dr. Jacob Dundee, MD” written below your portrait. You gestured towards the conference table with a mischievous look in your eyes. I hopped up and leaned back on my elbows. I smirked at the irony of the situation. A nurse and a physician meeting at a CPR/First Aid course four years ago, which we had to attend regularly to retain our licenses. At the time we were both working in emergency medicine at the local hospital. We had been paired together as partners during that training- such basic training for medical professionals working in emergency medicine…we spent the day simulating and reviewing skills on each other. It had been impossible to not notice how hard his cock became as it was pressed into my back while he practiced the Heimlich Maneuver on me, and it was even more impossible to ignore the heady rush I got when he pulled his hands into my stomach, by back pressed against his front. That was four years ago. As we got to know each other through work we began dating, and discovered we both enjoyed resus play. Since then, we’ve enjoyed the occasional rendezvous-vous at work, the thrill of keeping those meetings secret.

Jacob walked foward slowly, appraising my body propped up on the table, a mischievous look in his eyes. He placed his one hand on my chest and the other on my shoulder, his eyes tracing my lips, over my chin and down to my chest. My breath caught in my throat at his touch and he smirked at this. “Oh Steph…take a deep breath for me…in and out, just like that, good...” I inhaled, your hand rising and falling with my chest. I closed my eyes as your hand moved to hold my left breast, squeezing it. I leaned my head back, enjoying your touch as your lips pressed to my collarbone. I sighed. “Deep breaths, Steph…come on, you know that” you taunted me. I opened my eyes and watched as your put your stethoscope in your ears, raising its bell to my chest. I gasped at the cold touch as you leaned forward, pressing the stethoscope firmly against the delicate skin of my chest. I felt my heartbeat quicken and knew you heard it too when you said, with satisfaction “I don’t know Steph, I’m having a hard time hearing your heart”. Your smouldering gaze met my eyes as your free hand crept its way down my stomach, untucking my top and slipping it into the waistband of my scrub pants. I inhaled deeply, the faint remnants of your morning cologne dancing in my nose.

“Ahh, that’s a bit better” you said as kept one hand in my pants, tracing your fingers along my panties, and the other hand moved the stethoscope around my chest. Your brow furrowed as you listened to my heart race, clearly enjoying the sensual power you had over my body at the moment. You slowly raised my arms above my head, removing your stethoscope from my chest momentarily. You lifted my scrub top to expose my abdomen and pressed your lips just above my navel. I gasped as your lips moved up my rib cage, pausing momentarily as you slipped my top off over my head, leaving me exposed with only my black bra on top. You leaned back over me, pressing your ear to my heaving chest. You glanced up at me and pushed a stray curl from my face. “Steph, your heart is beating so fast, you need to calm down” you whispered to me, knowing your words had the exact opposite effect on me. I took a deep breath as your stethoscope once again found my chest.

“Hmm…Steph, do you need CPR?” you asked me. Our eyes met and I nodded my head, unable to speak, my face flushed. You stood up and swung your leg up to meet me on the table, straddling my thighs. You placed both hands on my hips and slowly traced my rib cage, making your way up to my sternum. I breathed heavily in anticipation, a buzzing feeling filling my body. I swooned as you nestled your hands between my breasts and rocked your body into position, locking your elbows. You maintained eye contact as you gently compressed my chest, my lungs exhaling any breath left. You remained in this position and slowly released, my breastbone expanding. You did this again and raised your eyebrows. I nodded, letting you know it felt good, inviting you to compress deeper. I bit my lip and stifled a moan as your weight slowly pressed into my chest and released, synchronized with my breathing, over and over again.

We carried on like this, thrilled by the fact we had to be quick but wanting to savour the moment before going home after work. Your cock was hard; I could feel it grinding against my body through our pants. You paused to press your stethoscope once again to my chest, listening intently to my heart pounding. You grinned, pleased with what you heard. You reached for my stethoscope, putting the earpieces in my ears and pressing the bell into my chest. My heart was racing, pounding out a loud and steady beat as we listened together. I heard the blood rushing in my head as you returned to your chest compressions, once again synchronizing with my rapid breath. I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a moan. Your lips found mine as we kissed, my hands tangling in your hair.

Your hands moved from my chest to cradle my face as you pulled away. “I’m going to breathe for you” I nodded in agreement, ready. You sealed your lips over mine and exhaled, filling my lungs with your warm breath. Our lips parted and I felt the air rush out. Quickly, you sealed your lips over mine again and exhaled, my cheeks puffing out. You rocked back and returned to compressing my chest, this time with a stronger, steady pace- similar to CPR but not as intense. I felt my ribs cave and recoil under your weight, my abdomen bouncing against your thigh with each compression, my head gently bobbing side to side. I spread my arms out and gripped the edges of the conference table we are on. I felt warmth building between my legs, desperate and hungry. A heady rush engulfed me, delight and pleasure connecting our bodies with each chest compression and breathe you rewarded me with.

You stopped your compressions and once again made sure my stethoscope was in my ears and placed the bell on my chest, grabbing my hand to hold it in place so I could hear. My heartbeat filled my ears and I watched as you put your stethoscope in your ears and pressed the bell to my chest. We listened as my heart pounded and danced under our touch. Excited and satisfied, my body relaxed and I sighed a deep breath. We lay still for a few moments, savouring the sound of my heart as my breathing slowed.

You got off the table and pulled me into a sitting position, my legs dangling off the edge but not quite reaching the ground. I was still only wearing my navy blue scrub pants and black bra. You grinned at me as you stepped back and pulled off your maroon scrub top. “Okay, my turn” you said as I hopped down. “I need nurse Steph to check me over”. I smiled with anticipation as my eyes traced Jacob’s strong body, my eyes lingering on his chest. It was craving my touch.

I grabbed my stethoscope and pushed you onto your back and straddled your legs. “Nurse Stephanie is here” I said. “Try and breath normally, Jacob” I teased as I pressed my stethoscope’s bell to your chest “I’m going to listen to your heart, you look a little stressed…”

The perks of working with your fiancé.

[iambic-stan]

last book read + last stethoscope used, part 25

My MDF starry night procardial titanium scope is here with Zaina Arafat's novel You Exist Too Much. What a title. But about the MDF--he had the honor of accompanying me on a short road trip last week to be used by someone other than the same two people who use him all the time. Happy for him, even happier for me! Ecstatic, actually!

The book has mixed reviews on Goodreads but I really enjoyed it. It's a semi-autobiographical story of a Palestinian American woman who flits from relationship to relationship, desperately searching for the sense of belonging that eludes her and her family--especially her parents, who grew up under military occupation and were cruelly thrown out of their home. Her mother is emotionally-manipulative and despite multiple attempts at honest conversation on the matter, is unlikely to accept her daughter's bisexuality. This is the narrator's story of learning to be kinder to herself as she makes (many of the same) harmful mistakes, and to be forgiving of those around her. I think readers wanted a neat ending full of epiphanies and a resolution to the protagonist's struggles and self-defeating behavior, but that's a tall order. A timely read and an important perspective, considering what is happening to the Palestinians right now.

Free Palestine.

[angianes]

must have books | dear nursing student

After being accepted into nursing school, I had no idea what to do next. I started looking up all kinds of stuff trying to figure out what to expect; YouTube, ALLNURSES, Instagram etc. I took bits and pieces of advice from all of them. I'm going to start by sharing the books I have found useful. This is mostly dedicated to those that procrastinate or can't stay focused long enough, like me. These are easy reads that are broken down into small sections which makes them engaging.

Pre-Nursing School ○ Saunders NCLEX-RN

This book should be purchased before you even get a stethoscope. Things to study before starting first semester  — ○ Fluids and Electrolytes ○ Acid-Base Balance ○ Vital Signs ○ EVERYTHING ABOUT DIABETES MELLITUS Practicing the clinical application questions will be good review to get yourself use to the types of questions you'll see on your first quiz and test.

Pre- or During Nursing School ○ Pearsons Pathophysiology Reviews and Rationales ○ Elsevier Nursing Diagnosis Handbook | An Evidence-Based Guide to Planning Care

— these two books saved me during first semester —  ○ Learn how to use the NDH, it's a lifesaver | Elsevier ○ Get familiar with pathophysiology, nursing assessments, client-centered nursing care, nursing interventions | Pearsons R&R

Moving onto Pharmacology ○ Pearsons Pharmacology Reviews and Rationales ○ Pearsons Nurse's Drug Guide

I plan to continue to use Pearson Reviews and Rationales books through the rest of my nursing program. These books are far from the dense nursing school textbooks but contain the same information. Alongside the Saunders NCLEX-RN, you should be set for your nursing school journey.

NOTE — Please stop buying other peoples notes, TAKE YOUR OWN NOTES! These books have more information than any individualized notes seller out there. Taking your own notes allows you to personalized your perspective on the topics you learn.

[ecargmura]

My New Boss Is Goofy Episode 10 Review - Autumnal Short Stories

This episode is a bit different from the rest in that it’s more of a compilation of short stories compared to one whole episode. Fortunately, these little stories revolve around the theme of autumn. Basically, this episode is summarized as Momose and Shirosaki doing cute things in autumn, ft. Hakutou, Aoyama and Kinjou.

The first story is about Shirosaki and Momose meeting up during work and then an acorn hits Shirosaki’s shoulder. He thought Momose was calling him, but since the latter didn’t want to embarrass him, he told a white lie by saying he likes acorns. The segment ends with Shirosaki giving acorns to Momose and Kinjou giving Shirosaki a squirrel kigurumi. This is a cute way to start the episode.

The second story is just a cute halloween-themed episode where Shirosaki and Momose stumble upon a halloween festival while out for work. Shirosaki gets scared as usual. There’s an instance where Shirosaki tried going left, but went right and smooshed his cheek against Momose’s. After kids were telling them how to differentiate left and right, they bought them candy as thanks. Cute. It’s okay, Shirosaki; I get my left and rights mixed up at times too.

The third story is about Momose and Shirosaki out on a drive for work-related purposes. Momose was amazed by Shirosaki’s driving skills, but he’s still a goof as he tried getting out without removing the seatbelt. Afterwards, on their way back, they saw a vending machine that only took small bills. So, as Shirosaki went to the convenience store to ask for change, Momose reflects on the difference between Shirosaki and Kurono, his old boss. When Shirosaki comes back, he has a bag of beverages and snacks; unfortunately, Shirosaki forgot he was supposed to ask for change and paid everything with credit card. I get you Shirosaki; that happened to me too! At least, Momose likes driving with his boss now. The little flashback with Shirosaki making a mistake at his driving test was hilarious; I just hoped he got his license on his first try—I got mine on my first try and I still wonder how I did so to this day. There’s also a small segment where Aoyama and Kinjou are in a car together. Aoyama even has a Kumatte-chan GPS!

The fourth story is about Momose and Shirosaki working from home due to a mass infection at Minette. Hakutou’s wondering why they’re at home today. Shirosaki makes a big goof by trying to drink something with his mask on. Since they’re at home, Momose reassures he can take off his mask, which he does. Drinking something with the mask on was something I did once. I think the biggest highlight of this segment was the fact that Aoyama was telling the others that he isn’t wearing any pants underneath. Aoyama, TMI!

The fifth segment is about the two going on a day trip. They decided to buy a book to keep themselves occupied on the train. As a book lover myself, it’s nice see what sort of books they chose. Momose chose a poetry book that contains healing poems; I feel like it’s perfect for someone who needs some mental healing. Shirosaki chose a mystery book with a cat on the cover; I bet he picked it precisely because there’s a cat on the cover. It turns out that Shirosaki already figured out the culprit…because he bought and read the book before. It’s okay, Shirosaki! Having multiple copies of a book is normal for bookworms.

The sixth segment is about taking Hakutou to the vet. Is it just me or has Hakutou gotten bigger? He looks a bit bigger than he did in previous episodes, especially the part where Shirosaki picked him up. Also, the cat noises Hakutou makes are so cute! Props to Hiro Shimono for having such a cute voice! The part about the stethoscope was cute. Also, the taxi driver from Episode 6 has returned!

The seventh segment has the quartet go to an autumn festival. They reflect over what they did in festivals in their youth. Shirosaki had danced but went off course due to his goofiness. Aoyama tried goldfish scooping but they all swam away from him. Kinjou tried flirting with a girl; it turns out he was just being playful towards his mom. Momose had always been kind; when he got the yoyo, he gave it to his mom. The story moved Shirosaki. I think the most hilarious thing is that the habits of their childhood was still implemented onto their adult selves as they repeated the same things they did before, with Aoyama failing at goldfish scooping again, but is given a yoyo from Momose and then Shirosaki getting lost, so Kinjou gets him back by playfully hitting on him. All of their childhood selves were adorable.

The eighth segment has the main duo go to another company to earn a deal. Momose is nervous because he had gone to that company in the past but failed to get a contract; Kurono blamed him for that. Shirosaki sensed his nervousness, and then told him how he managed to overcome nervousness. In the past, he and Aoyama went to another company to negotiate a deal, but his nervousness got to him that Shirosaki accidentally spoke in an arrogant tone. Fortunately, Aoyama was able to do damage control by saying that Shirosaki speaks like a haughty queen when nervous. Despite his mistakes, they managed to get a deal. The story warms Momose’s heart and they actually got a deal! The part where they high-fived was so silly. Momose was trying to call a taxi but Momose mistook it for a celebrating and did a high-five. Haha, never change, Shirosaki.

The final segment is their day off where they legit go on a date. They go to various spots like a restaurant, then the park where they proceed to explore and even go on swan boats! They were talking about how couples who ride swan boats break up, but if they ride the boat with the eyebrows, they’d be together forever; guess who rides the boat with the eyebrows? I think the funniest part about this segment is at the post-credit scene where Shirosaki was like “Wait, we didn’t need to ride the boat with the eyebrows because we’re not a couple.” MM-HMM! SURE!

While this episode was different in terms of formatting, the vibes were still there. We’re now in the double digits when it comes to episode counts. There are only 12 episodes, meaning there are two more episodes left. I’m sad. What was your favorite segment of this episode? I liked the final segment where they went on a date!

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 5 - First Day On The Job

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.0k words - AO3 Link

“I am well aware of how to fill out charts,” Emma stated as she sat at the nurse’s station. She had been shadowing her supervisor, Andrew, all morning after doing her mandatory safety training and paperwork. He had been treating her like she was a brand-new medical student that didn’t know their ass from their elbow the whole time. Talking slowly at her, over-explaining things and exaggerating his movements as he worked as if she didn’t understand anything. The icing on the cake had been when they were with a patient for a simple check-up and he made her check his lungs twice because he thought her stethoscope was off.

“You’ve missed a spot,” he pointed out with his own pen while leaning over her shoulder to point to a box she hadn’t ticked.

“You mean the box that indicates I checked his eyesight? Which I didn’t do. So, yes, I would leave it blank?” Emma asked as she slowly turned in her seat to look up at him hovering above her.

Andrew didn’t respond to that. He instead continued to run his eyes over the whole chart looking for any error, anything she missed or may have even misspelled but Emma knew there was nothing to find. She had been meticulous in filling it out, even putting things in that most times were never filled out because she suspected he would be critical of everything she did. He huffed slightly before leaning away and going back over to his own chair to do his own charting.

“I expect all your paperwork to be done before you leave,” Andrew said as he marked up his own papers.

“It will be,” Emma said simply as she looked at the clock. She had fifteen minutes left of this then she had another twenty to go get changed and meet the 141 in a conference room to debrief before she started her second training of the day. She was almost done with her paperwork but it was making her anxious it was getting so down to the wire to get done. The last thing she wanted was to be late on her first day.

One last signature and Emma flipped her final chart shut and placed all of them carefully into Andrew’s inbox for him to review. He was to review all her work for the foreseeable future to make sure she was ‘making progress as expected of her’ in her training. She was certain he was going to find a few things wrong or not to his liking, the chip on his shoulder was rather large. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she stated as she was walking away, not wanting him to try and catch her and hold her up longer.

Once out of the hospital wing, she jogged back to her room and quickly stripped out of her scrubs and into her military uniform. She needed to wrap up her hair into a bun, something she hadn’t done in years and didn’t have all the tools to do properly just yet. She’d need to ask her mother to send her some extra things and expedite it as well. Another phone call she was dreading on making because it was going to be long, arduous and full of fake guilt. Emma knew that her whole family knew they were relying on her having this job but her mother would still lay on the guilt trip thick. Guilting her for not coming home, not telling her sooner, asking too much of her to send extra in her packages, anything and everything.

“Good enough,” Emma murmured to herself in the small bathroom mirror as she smoothed down her hair against her forehead with a wet comb. She had dampened her hair, pulled it tight against her scalp, and wrapped it in a bun at the base of her neck. Without hairspray, gel, and bobby pins Emma knew it was going to frizz, pull free, and curl but there was nothing she could do about it. Tapping the comb against the sink to dry it Emma paused as she blinked at her reflection. She hadn’t seen herself looking like this in so long it was strange. Emma had always pictured a long career in the military and when all of that was taken away from her, she shut the book on it completely. It was like an eerie de ja vu to be right back at it again all these years later.

With three minutes to spare Emma stopped outside of the conference room she was supposed to meet everyone in and took a breath. She had an idea of what she was walking into but was still nervous nonetheless. Smoothing out her shirt one more time and checking her reflection in the frosted glass she reached out a hand and turned the door handle, heading inside to find whatever waited for her in there.

The team was already inside in various positions of sitting or standing. They were all in a uniform like hers and every head snapped around when she entered and shut the door, the idle chatter dying instantly. She wished they all would have kept talking until she had taken a seat, but every eye was on her, some smiling, some with a curious look.

“Afternoon,” Emma said a little sheepishly and they all murmured a greeting back, still not going back to their original conversation they were having. She quickly glanced around for a seat to take, figuring she’d feel less exposed if she were behind the table. She spotted one between Soap and Alex and walked over to take it when multiple files on the tabletop caught her eye.

Pulling out a chair she glanced at all the files, they were the same. It was the file about her. She could see her picture where one of them hadn’t flipped it shut yet. One picture from years ago when she was promoted to airman first class then her more recent one when she became a military contractor. Without asking permission, it was about her anyway, Emma reached out and pulled one to her and started scanning over the pages. “I see I wasn’t the only one with homework,” she mused as she got to the part about her accident and just flipped the file shut and placed it on the table. She knew all about that, she didn’t need to read it.

“Did you get through all of it?” Price finally asked, his arms folded across his chest as he stood at the head of the table.

“I did,” Emma replied, “I was up late going through it all. I’m sure I will need to read it a few more times to memorize it. But they are all safely locked away in the safe in my room.”

“Good, do you have any questions? This is the time to ask,” Price stated but before Emma could respond Ghost cut in.

“I have a question,” Ghost stated, his eyes locked on Emma. It was an effort for Emma to not squirm under the penetrating gaze. His face was once again obscured by the balaclava but his face was free of the black paint underneath. “For Emma,” he finished.

Everyone around the table shifted a bit and Emma noted that some of them looked a bit worried about what was going to come out of Ghost’s mouth. She understood why, she had seen in the file his anger issues, his bluntness and tendencies to be cutthroat, figuratively and literally. Even Price had raised an eyebrow but he gestured with his right hand for Ghost to continue, probably figuring sooner rather than later would be best for him to voice his concerns.

“Why were you discharged from the Air Force?” Ghost asked simply, his arms crossed over his chest.

Emma looked at him then her eyes quickly darted around the table at everyone else before moving to her file. She knew it was written in her file, knew that they had all read about what happened and surely it hadn’t been confusing to read. “I was injured,” Emma answered before continuing, “it was a training accident and I was deemed unfit to return.”

“I don’t care what the file says,” Ghost answered, “we all know how those bureaucratic things work. They write it up all nice and pretty and tie it with a bow. I want you to tell us what happened and not in American military speak.”

Emma’s eyes moved to Price to guidance but he didn’t say anything or move, as if he were waiting for her to answer. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable again and she shifted in her seat a bit. She didn’t like talking about what happened, it had been enough to speak to all her superior officers while lying in a hospital bed in a body brace. Then again to the miliary lawyers, the incident team, her doctors and then internal affairs. She never talked about her military time to anyone after that, none of her coworkers even knew she had the experience because it wasn’t pertinent to her job. That was her old life.

“We were flying a standard training routine in a helicopter. Low visual situation of a medical evac,” she started before leaning forward to brace her forearms on the table. She heard Soap shift next to her and felt his leg brush up very lightly against hers, and stay there. She didn’t acknowledge him though, her eyes were locked on Ghost who was still boring his eyes into her, listening intently. “I was the first out, repelling down a rope about twenty feet to the ground. I’d done it plenty of times before, in the training facility and out in the field training. I hooked up, leaned out and started my decent when my gear malfunctioned.” She paused and fisted her hands together, locking her fingers within one another holding her own hands, almost flinching at the memory. “I fell about fifteen feet and landed on my back.”

“Did your gear malfunction or did you not hook yourself in right?” Ghost asked, ignoring the obvious discomfort that Emma was feeling.

“It malfunctioned,” Emma answered, her voice hard as she narrowed her eyes a bit. “I know how to hook up my gear if that is what you are implying.” She had been asked all these questions before, right after the accident. She had been accused multiple times of not doing it right, that it was human error and not equipment. That they couldn’t get the same scenario to replicate twice with the same situation. But she was adamant she did it correctly herself and, in the end, they let it drop because her gear was in fact broken and they couldn’t prove that it wasn’t a malfunction.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking because you were the only person that happened to in that particular type of training,” Ghost answered, moving to lean on the table with his forearms himself. “And if you are going to work with us, I need to trust that you aren’t going to fuck up and kill one of us,” he finished his voice low, almost a threat. “Or lie when you do fuck up.”

“Given the fact that my file lists it as an accident and an equipment failure it seems that I was believed by people that are much higher than you, Ghost” Emma answered using his name for the first time. Her temper was starting to rise now and she felt Soap shift again as if he were resisting interjecting. “I have no reason to lie. I wouldn’t have gained or lost anything more if it was or wasn’t my fault. No one else was hurt in the accident and I was discharged without incident. Then I spent the next year of my life rehabbing, starting school and picking up the pieces.”

“How did you manage to recover?” Gaz piped in, his eyes scanning over the open file in front of him. “You broke your back in two places, fractured your scapula, broke your pelvis and had a major concussion. That’s not something people usually walk away from, let alone show no signs of injury.” He sounded impressed as his eyes flicked up to meet Emma’s, who had reluctantly broken the stare down between herself and Ghost.

“Multiple surgeries, seeing specialists all over the country, lots of physical therapy and a few mental breakdowns,” Emma answered truthfully, her voice still on edge at the perceived slight from Ghost. “I bled my, and my family’s, bank accounts dry to get back on my feet,” which was a literal and figurative statement. “As soon as I could function again, I continued the schooling I started while in the Air Force to work on my medical degree. I finished earlier than most and instantly started looking for work to pay everything back I had lost my family.”

“Do you have any lingering issues?” Crane asked, his hand flipping closed his copy of the file and sliding it onto the table. “Anything that would hinder you from doing your job now?”

“No,” Emma answered truthfully. “I still have pain issues but I work through it in other ways besides taking medication. I don’t like how I feel when I’m on any of the strong stuff and I can’t work when I’m on them anyway. I’ve learned how to cope. Meditation, exercise, hot showers, massages, acupuncture, chiropractors. Basically, I’ve tried and done anything but medication.” She shrugged, noting Soap shifted almost imperceptibly at her mention of hot showers and massages. She inwardly grinned to herself and resisted cutting her eyes to him to watch. He caught her and made her squirm last night, it was his turn.

“You are to tell us if you are hurting,” Price said after Crane seemed satisfied with Emma’s answer. “I mean it. I need to know if you are not in top shape to do things because if you go out in the field and aren’t at your best you put us all in danger.”

“Understood,” Emma answered with a small nod. She knew how these things worked, knew that team was only as strong as their weakest person and right now that was her. They also needed to learn that they could trust her and she would need to be truthful in everything she did. Not that she lied anyway, not when it came to work and people’s safety. She glanced at Ghost who seemed to be done asking questions, atleast for now.

“Why exactly am I going to out in the field?” She asked after a moment the curiosity finally getting the better of her. “I mean, well, why me? Surely there are more qualified personnel to be on your team. With field combat experience and that are active right now, not discharged almost seven years ago.”

Price grinned at the question before unfolding his arms and leaning two hands on the table to bend toward her. “Because of everything in your file. You think I pick my team based on just the fact they served? I mean it’s a large factor but not all of it.” He put one hand on the manila folder in front of him and flipped it open to show her pictures again, of then and now. “I asked for all the files of those in the hospital the night after we extracted you all. There’s been a gap on the team and you stood out to me. You had a promising career when you were in the Air Force. You were on the fast track to climb the ranks based on your skills, test scores and quick learning. That’s not something you can teach,” he explained. “Then I was impressed how you recovered from an injury that most people wouldn’t even survive. How you finished your school while learning how to function again, and finished your education quicker than most, even with a life altering injury.” He stood up again and shrugged slightly before adding in a knowing smile. “Then, after everything, you were willing to put yourself right back into the thick of it. Risk yourself for others. I think you were built for this; it just didn’t happen how you planned.”

“Yes, all of that is true,” Emma stated feeling herself become almost embarrassed at how he was talking her up. “But are you sure that I’m the most qualified for this? I’m willing to do it but I don’t know if we’re maybe all making a mistake here.” Her eyes cut to Ghost who was leaned back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest. He was hard to read since she couldn’t see his whole face but Emma had a feeling he thought this was all a big mistake as well.

“You’re the sixth candidate,” Soap replied simply, moving so his leg wasn’t pushed up against Emma’s anymore. “The five before you were everything that you said. Still active duty, had combat experience and everything else that you think you need to be here,” he explained. “They were all handpicked by Laswell’s boss and as you can see, they aren’t here anymore.” He leaned back in his seat, his hands moving to rest on the straps on his vest. “They weren’t what we needed. We don’t need you in the thick of the fight, we’ve got that covered,” he grinned. “We need you as medical, recon and intelligence,” he paused “but still able to hold your own if needed.”

“And looking at your ability tests,” Alex finally chimed in, his hands flipping back and forth between two pages, “you can certainly hold your own. Second in your class for marksmanship, third in hand to hand, second for reconnaissance,” he grinned and looked up, “first in agility. Must be from all the running in high school, you had a couple state championships that I saw.” He flipped back a few pages to find that information to double check his own work.

“I’m not nearly as fast as I used to be,” Emma answered though she was smiling a bit herself. “I still run though so I guess that’s better than nothing.” She was amazed they could pull all of that information together so quickly. She had a feeling that Laswell and whoever her boss was had access to any and all information they wanted at the drop of a hat.

Sixth candidate stuck out to her though. She wondered how long the other ones had been here for, what caused them to not make the cut and be sent on their way. Soap had said that the others were picked by Laswell’s boss and based on the conversations she was actually picked by Price himself. Maybe that would work in her favor since she was his choice and not someone that was thrust upon him instead.

“When do we start?” Emma asked finally, looking between all of them but finally settling her gaze on Price.

“Now,” Price answered simply. “We need you to recertify in marksmanship before you can be issued a gun. You’ll need to get out on the course today and get reacquainted before you test out. Gaz has offered to go down with you to the range to get situated, offer pointers and he’ll eventually test you once he thinks you’re ready.”

Emma looked at Gaz who nodded and answered “the faster you get comfortable again the better. It’s like riding a bike so I think you’ll be fine. We only have an hour today,” he finished looking at his watch.

“Then you’ll be with Alex or Soap in the fitness room when you’re done with Gaz today,” Price stated as he nodded at the two of them next to her. “You’ll be there every morning with one or both of them, their time permitting, before your hospital shift” he explained. “When they aren’t available, I would still expect you to be there working. You need to get your strength and endurance back.”

“Understood,” Emma replied, looking between the two men sitting next to her.

“Once you’re in better shape,” Price stated, it wasn’t condescending it was a fact. Emma knew that she was not nearly in good enough shape to be out there with these men. “Ghost has offered hand to hand training,” he stated. “You’re not there yet, I don’t need you injured before we even begin.”

Emma’s eyes cut instantly to Ghost who she could have sworn was smirking behind his mask. Maybe he didn’t loathe her after all, which is what he gave off in his questioning, or he was just willing to be the one to beat the hell out of her because of his dislike. He shifted in his chair before nodding his agreement to Price’s words and Price moved on to the next item.

“And you’ll be with all of us for intelligence, recon, mission briefs and the like. We are shifting our daily meetings to the afternoons when we are here so you can work your shift at the hospital,” he explained. “Eventually you will work with all of us one on one. I want you all to get to know one another, how your thought processes work, your strengths and weaknesses. In the field Emma will always be paired with someone and I don’t want you all figuring each other out in the midst of a fight.” He finished before looking to the group as if asking if they had any other questions. When no one said anything, chairs started shifting in the silent dismissal.

“Let’s go, shall we?” Gaz asked as he stood up from his chair and handed Price the file in his hand. “See if you live up to that second in class position for marksmanship.” He grinned before heading toward the door.

“See you in an hour,” Soap called and Emma looked at him as she turned out the door with a smile. Soap was watching her leave and she saw Alex look up from his conversation with Crane to give her a small smile before looking away again.

“Do you remember basic gun safety?” Gaz asked as they walked out the door into the heat of the desert air outside. “Where the safety is, how to load and unload, clean it, take it apart the usual,” he expanded.

“I do,” Emma replied. All guns were different but they had the same basic instructions on how they operated. She had been able to build and take apart her side piece with a blindfold and could shoot clustered shots of a full clip at a target without missing. She figured she’d be a little slow and clumsy at first but it would come back to her. Her hands were just as steady now as they had been then. “What am I going to be working with?” She asked as they continued walking around the building and she spotted the gun range in the distance.

“Standard issue pistol,” Gaz replied, “to get started. We’ll move you up to the fun stuff later.”

The walk wasn’t far before they were at the range. They had to sign in and show their credentials before they were each issued a pistol, ear muffs, safety glasses and a box of bullets each. There were a few other people on the range training so Gaz lead Emma down to the last two corrals before turning to her and setting his gun down.

“Show me what you remember. Check your gun, load it, unload it, and take it apart,” he instructed before gesturing to the counter in front of them.

Emma stared at him for a moment before moving to the counter to look at the gun in her hand. It was heavier than she remembered and felt foreign in her hands, years ago it had felt like an extension of her arm, not some hunk of metal. Doing as Gaz asked Emma popped the clip out of the bottom, loaded it, chambered a shot, discharged the chambered bullet, unloaded it and then broke it down into pieces. The last part took her a little longer because she wasn’t used to the pistol yet but she got it done.

“Not bad,” Gaz remarked from the spot on the counter he had been leaning on. His eyes had been on her hands the whole time. “Won’t be breaking any records,” he teased, “but not bad for a retiree.”

“Give me a few days and you can time me,” she answered, “I’ll even do it blindfolded if you ask nicely.” She smirked over her shoulder at him and he laughed in response.

“Alright, back that talk up with some shooting,” Gaz replied before pulling the earmuffs that were around his neck up and snapping them onto his ears.

Emma nodded and pulled her ear covers on as well before putting the gun back together and stepping up to the counter. She set her legs in the proper position and hit the button to call a target at a standard distance away. Being an outdoor range there was some wind that moved the paper a bit but she loosed a breath and pulled the trigger. Then again. And again. She finished the clip before dropping the ear muffs off her head and pushing another button to call the target to her to look at it.

“Not bad,” Gaz said nicely, though Emma was frowning. Her aim was not great, he was right it wasn’t bad, but it was not up to her standard either. “We’ve got time to practice, you’re already further ahead than I thought you would be so you should be able to test after a bit more practice.”

And with that Emma called up another target and got to work. Gaz stood with her, adjusting her form when needed, offering tips, and showing her examples with his own shooting. His shots never missed where he intended, they had even turned it into a game at the end where one would call the spot and the other would aim for it. Emma still wasn’t hitting where she wanted to but she wasn’t missing all together at least.

An hour and twenty minutes later Emma found herself walking into the fitness center. She had enough time to run back to her room and change into the one set of workout clothes she had after saying goodbye to Gaz who had somewhere else to be. A simple tank top, spandex shorts, and her last pair of sneakers would have to do. The other pair she was sure had been tossed after being soaked in blood during her escape from the hospital. Just another thing to add on the list for her mother to send her. Maybe she’d ask her brother to pick up the items, he would only complain because he was so busy and not because he wanted to actually guilt her.

“How was shooting practice?” Alex asked when Emma found him over by the weights, bent over with his forearms on his knees taking a breather. He was already slick with sweat, his shirt soaked through around his neck and down his spine, and pieces of his hair were stuck to his forehead. “Did Gaz preen for you?” He asked laughing as he wiped at his face with a small towel.

“It could have gone better,” Emma answered truthfully. “I handled all the basics fine, though I am going to have to practice to go faster. I did promise him I’d do it blindfolded next time.” She smirked, “he hit everything every time. I luckily didn’t miss the target at all but I need to sharpen my aim a bit.”

“It’s a start,” Soap said from behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach and she turned to find him standing there with a hand towel tucked into his gym shorts at his hip and a water bottle in his hand. He was also slick with sweat but his shirt was a cut-off tank with the sides barely there giving plenty of side view of his stomach and chest, and of course his massive upper arms. “You’ll get there. And don’t let Gaz fool you, I’m still the better shot anyway.” He took a sip of his water before pushing some errant hairs off his head.

“I don’t know,” Emma replied, “every spot I called out he hit without barely blinking. I wouldn’t be surprised if he closed his eyes on some of them,” she challenged before starting to pull her hair out of its bun. It was falling in places already and judging by how sweaty the two of them were she was going to need it up in a ponytail. She took a sidestep back before bending over and flipping her hair up to pull it back into a high pony, the ends of her hair just tickling the base of her neck as she tied it. “Do you think you can do that?”

“In my sleep,” Soap answered, his eyes snapping back up to Emma’s face where she was certain they had wandered when she bent over. “Or blindfolded,” he tacked on, obviously having overheard her talking to Alex a moment before.

“Right, well, you can Gaz can have a gun measuring contest later,” Alex chimed in as he stood up. “Let’s get started, shall we,” he gestured to the line of treadmills along the wall. “Today is just figuring out where you are at. Don’t push yourself,” he cut his eyes toward Soap, “or let him goad you on. That’ll come later. Just do what you feel comfortable with and we will build on it. Let’s start with thirty minutes of cardio.”

Emma nodded and walked over to the treadmill and stepped up. She had been running when she could, but it wasn’t consistent and she knew she wasn’t nearly ready for a long run. Thirty minutes wouldn’t be too bad though. Turning the machine on she programmed a thirty-minute walk-run session before starting, her arms and feet falling into their usual rhythm. She wasn’t sure where Alex and Soap went but a few moments later a water bottle was dropped in the small cup holder on her machine and a towel was draped over the arm.

“Thanks,” Emma said a bit breathlessly as she looked over at Soap who had taken up the machine next to her and started jogging. He had already been working out before she even got here but it seemed he was going to continue. Determined to concentrate on herself she stared at the wall of mirrors in front of them and watched her own form. That occupied her time for about three minutes before she was bored.

Her eyes wandered in the mirror taking in the rest of the gym in the reflection, which wasn’t overly large. It had the standard number of machines you’d expect of a gym, though they seemed to focus a lot on free weights. She never bothered with those before, not knowing what to do but she was sure Alex and Soap knew exactly what moves to do and for what muscle. There weren’t too many people in here at this time of day, she was sure the mornings would be more crowded so she made a mental note there would probably be more competition for treadmills and the like. The music wasn’t very loud and barely audible over the sound of her and Soap’s pounding feet.

Cutting her eyes back to her own reflection she glanced over to see Soap keeping pace with her, his eyes locked on her in the reflection. He didn’t look away when they locked eyes but Emma did, blinking and turning her head to look over at him but he didn’t twist from facing the mirrors.

“Face forward before you fall on your face,” Soap instructed and Emma snapped her head back around again and looked at him in the mirror. “You need to focus on your breathing and not look at all the eye candy,” he grinned.

“You’re one to talk,” Emma breathed out as the treadmill upped her speed based on the program. “You haven’t taken your eyes off me.” She wasn’t going to be able to keep talking, she was winded and still had ten minutes to go. So instead, she reached for her water bottle and took a sip, but kept her eyes on Soap’s reflection.

“How else am I going to see your form? And tell you that you aren’t breathing properly,” he asked, barely sounding winded before grabbing his own water.

Emma narrowed her eyes but didn’t answer, her arms pumping to keep up the pace as her feet slammed down with each step. She was going to ache later; she could tell her hips were too tight for all of this. Which meant she’d have to ice and scrounge up some ibuprofen, hopefully from a friendly face since Andrew should be off shift by now.

The last minute was a sprint before a five-minute cooldown. Emma concentrated on her form, but she did notice that Alex was back from wherever he disappeared to the last thirty minutes. He was just as sweaty as he was before but he was standing back with his arms folded on his chest watching Emma and Soap go flat out on their respective machines before the finishing beep that indicated it was cooldown.

Emma had to brace her hands on the arms of the treadmill as she sucked down air, resisting the urge to cough which would just prove Soap’s comments right that she wasn’t breathing properly. Soap was also breathing heavily as he walked his cooldown and he smiled at her in the mirror when he caught her looking again. Abruptly Emma wiped at her face with a towel and took a long swig of water before the machine finally cut off and she rode it down to the end and hopped off. “Well?” She asked Alex determined to not let herself keep staring at Soap.

“Not bad,” Soap answered her instead. “Form is a little off, breathing is way off,” he grinned, “but I think you’ll be able to build up your endurance over time.” He wiped off his face before gesturing to Alex who turned and led the way around all the weight-lifting machines to the free weights. There were a few dumbbells on the ground, laid out in groups, an exercise mat, workout bench, and some resistance bands all ready for her. So that is where he had gone off to.

“Now for the fun part,” Alex stated before bending down to pick up a set of weights he had laid out for himself. “I’m starting you out small and we’ll build up. Too much too fast and you’ll be too sore to do anything tomorrow.” He gestured to a set of clipboards on the ground with a dumbbell in his hand. Two of them were filled out with weights next to different moves, all varying, while the third with her name was blank. “Fill that out as we go to track your progression. We’re going to do arms and core today.”

“Haven’t you already worked out?” Emma asked him as she gestured at his obviously sweaty form. “Aren’t you tired?”

“We could just sit here and stare at you working out if that would make you feel better,” Soap said as he gathered his own weights. Alex hadn’t bothered digging out all of his it seemed and Emma looked over to find he only needed three. Apparently, he knew his own limits and numbers already. “Or we can get a few extra reps in and show you how to do it properly.”

“Should you even be doing this with your arm?” She gestured to the wrapped injury which caused Soap to roll his eyes before lifting a forty-pound dumbbell straight up over his head.

“I’m fine Lass, I barely feel it anymore,” he answered before dropping the dumbbell down to his side again. He didn’t flinch and Emma was certain that he either truly didn’t feel it anymore because he was used to injuries or he was covering it really well.

“Hmm,” was all Emma said, her eyes lingering on him for a moment, before Alex started taking her through the motions of each move. They paused after ten reps for her to write down the weight before doing another two rounds of the same exercise before moving on. Both men had to correct her a few times, telling her to up or drop her weight depending on her form. Soap had even moved to spot her on a few moves where her arms shook, his fingers light on her skin as he guided her elbows up and down. Their eyes locked in the mirror a few times but Emma was too busy worrying about dropping the weights on her face to react.

Emma felt like she was struggling with the light weights while Alex and Soap lifted their own with very little struggle. That was until the very end when they too finally seem worn down. Soap was grunting with each lift on his final reps and Alex was breathing loudly before dropping his weights on the ground, the metal clanking, as he bent over to breathe. Sweat was literally dripping off the both of them onto the floor and their hair was soaked and flat to their heads.

“Good to know you both aren’t Superman,” Emma stated as she sat on her bench dropping her measly weights to the floor and writing down her final weight. Her arms felt like jello, she wasn’t sure how she was going to lift them to wash her hair. She was in desperate need of a shower, her clothes soaked in sweat and her hair was sticking to her skin where the pony had loosened, curls framing her face. “I was beginning to worry that I was never going to get a fair shot against you in an arm-wrestling match.” She grinned as the two men chuckled, putting their weights away after they composed themselves.

“Time to hit the showers,” Soap said as he pulled a gym bag from the corner of the room and tossed the second one there to Alex. Emma was going to have to walk all the way back to her room to get clothes which she realized would have to be scrubs. She really needed to call her mother, or brother, and get clothes sent.

“I have to go get clothes and my shower things,” Emma stated as she stood up and felt a twinge in her hips but she didn’t let the stiffness show. “I’ll catch up with you at dinner?” She inquired and Alex and Soap both nodded before walking out together. She watched them go before cleaning up her own things and taking her bottle of water and towel to head down to her room to get more clothes.

Emma took a little longer in the shower than her last one, careful to keep her curtain pulled tight around her shower as people came and went. Her body was already starting to feel sore which meant tomorrow was only going to get worse. Before her arms could finally give out Emma pulled her hair into a tight French braid and tied it off, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. There were still dark circles under her eyes but she looked a little less haunted today. Sleep couldn’t come fast enough but she couldn’t rest just yet though, she needed to bite the bullet and call home finally and get things. Maybe she could also stop by the laundry and find out about getting military-issued items in the meantime, even if it was just plain shirts and shorts.

As expected, her mother wailed on the phone. Emma had sat at the small booth, one elbow resting on the tabletop with that hand on her cheek as she waited for her mother to finish. There was a lot of ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ from Emma in a monotone voice as they got through the theatrics. Sometimes Emma wondered if her mother recorded herself to show people later just how much of a caring mother she was because she certainly wasn’t having the effect, nor getting a reaction, from Emma she wanted.

She had pulled up her email on the computer while her mother went on and found another email at the top of her box from Laswell. The first couple had been her job and Laswell acknowledging the signed contracts but this one was different. Clicking on it, with another ‘mmhmm’ reaction to her mother, Emma scanned it.

“Mom,” Emma interrupted and her mother sputtered quiet. “I have an address for you to send stuff to. Or Daniel or Dad can if you are too busy,” she tacked on knowing her mother would lament her horrendously busy life and how she can’t take the time to do things like this all the time. “Yes, I know you normally send it to the base directly but I have somewhere else. They are going to make sure it’s expedited to me vs waiting two weeks. But they need it to arrive to them by the end of the week,” she sighed as her mother yelped. “Yes, I know that’s in three days. Please. I literally have nothing here. I’ll send you an email of everything, my boxes in the closet should have most of it.” Because her mother didn’t want her things cluttering up the dressers in the guest bedroom for all the guests they never had. “Anything else just purchase it and send it overnight to an address I am going to send you. I’ll pay for it,” she tacked on before her mother could start in about the money.

Her mother was back on another bender of talking and Emma pulled up a fresh email and put together a list of everything she needed. Bullet points grouped by where to find the items in her boxes or where to buy them from. She was sure to copy both her mother, father, and Daniel and hit send before her call with her mother ended. Emma waited for her mother to go through the list on the phone, confirming Emma really did need all of this and questioning some of the items on the list as well. But before they disconnected her mom promised they would get everything.

Emma sighed and set the receiver down once they were finally done talking. She felt drained, as she always did after they talked, and her bed was calling her name. She took a moment to reply to Laswell that she indeed had items coming. She hoped her mother got most of it together and to the woman, or her associates, in time. Next stop was laundry, Maricela then finally dinner.

“Why are you in scrubs?” Crane asked as he sat down at the same table, they had all occupied the night before. He was the first one in the mess hall and his plate was piled high just as it had been last time.

“It’s all I’ve got that isn’t dirty currently,” Emma answered simply. “I’ve got stuff coming from home and I stopped by the laundry to drop my dirty stuff and see if they had anything extra I could borrow for the next few days. They said they’d look but I’m not holding my breath,” she replied before tearing into her food. She was starved after the day she had, she knew she was going to have to start eating better if she was going to be working out and gaining muscle. Her body wasn’t going to survive on a meal and a half per day.

“Someone just hung a bag on your door when I was leaving. I saw them standing around looking for your room, we really should get plaques or something,” Alex supplied as he took a seat next to Emma. The scent of shampoo and body wash enveloped Emma as his arms reached out in front of her for some napkins. “Looked like it could be a bag of clothes,” he supplied as Soap reached the table and sat across from Emma instead of his seemingly usual spot next to her.

“How are you feeling?” Soap asked, his eye searching Emma’s face, then over her body taking in the scrubs, seemingly having the same question as Crane had when he sat down.

“Dead on my feet,” Emma answered before plucking at her scrub shirt, “it’s the only clean thing I’ve got currently,” she explained before Soap could ask his next question. “Laundry hopefully dropped some stuff at my room for me to wear. I don’t think wearing scrubs to work out in is going to be very comfortable.” She continued to eat before looking up and around the mess hall. So far it was only herself, Alex, Crane, and Soap. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Price, Ghost, and Gaz had somewhere to be this evening,” Soap answered between bites. “So you only have us for company this evening,” he finished with a grin, his foot under the table lightly kicking hers.

“Well, you three are on your own when I finish eating. I need sleep, especially if I have to be in the gym by five thirty,” she explained before rolling her neck a bit. “I need to stretch out before bed if I have any hope of being able to move in the morning,” Emma finished before going back to eating. She was physically and mentally drained and was ready for the peace and quiet of her room. Thirty minutes of stretching would have to do because any longer she was certain she’d fall asleep on the floor.

“That out of shape huh?” Crane teased as he threw up a soup cracker and caught it in his mouth.

“I haven’t seen you in the gym in the past few days,” Alex quipped back, “you’ll be on Price’s list next if you aren’t careful. And I doubt Soap will be as helpful to you as he is to Emma,” he tagged on smiling a bit.

“I’ll just let the weights fall on your face,” Soap responded, the toes of his booted feet still pushed up against the toes of Emma’s shoes. Emma didn’t pull her feet back as she continued to eat, letting the three of them banter back and forth to fill the silence before finally standing up with her completely empty tray. She still felt like she could eat more but didn’t want to make herself sick.

“I’ll see you both bright and early,” she said to Soap and Alex. The former having risen a bit from his own spot on the bench, as if he were going to rise and walk with her. Even if his food wasn’t finished yet. “And maybe you should come too, Crane, if you are going to talk the talk you should walk the walk.” Soap and Alex laughed at her response and Crane joined them before Emma left the mess hall and headed back to her room to bed.

As Alex has suspected the bag that hung on her doorknob was laundry. Some of it was obviously old, forgotten clothes that people had left behind but they all were clean and seemed close enough to her size. She pulled everything out and picked out her clothes for the gym the next day before settling herself on the floor on a towel to stretch out. She may have stayed in corpse pose a little too long because she jerked herself awake sometime later before stripping out of her clothes and literally crawling into bed.

Soap’s jacket was still tucked neatly under her pillows waiting for her and she fisted her fingers into the fabric, like a security blanket, before falling back to sleep.

[oneatlatime]

Jet

10th episode! Nominally half way through the season, so I might make some kind of review/summary post soon.

This episode opens with a rather ominous musical sting.

Gorgeous fall colours. Which makes no sense because the winter solstice just passed but whatever.

This accordion type trap design is not something I've ever seen before. Are these a thing in real life? Also words cannot express how much I love Momo's little leitmotif. It's so him.

Sokka's aim with that Boomerang of his has got to be near-supernatural.

You know, Sokka kind of does have an arrow on his head.

He IS just a goofy kid! That's what makes him the best! Seriously, after a century of war, there isn't a person alive who doesn't need a hearty dose of goofiness.

Katara is pulling no punches here. Peak little sister. Really railing on those "instincts."

"How do people go anywhere without a flying bison?" Welcome to living like the rest of us mere mortals. Actually, between Appa, his glider, and his ball of air that he rides places, you can make a case that Aang (or airbenders in general) have severely underdeveloped walking muscles.

With the amount that Katara is ridiculing Sokka's attempts at leadership, I predict this going two ways: either Sokka gets a chance to lead this episode and it goes well (disproving Katara) or Katara screws up majorly in a way that she could have been avoided if she'd just listened to Sokka's Instincts. We already had a Katara screwing up episode with the Waterbending Scroll, so my money is on the first one.

I love Aang so much. Sokka's obvious bluff accidentally works and Aang's repsonse is to praise Sokka's skill and 100% believe that it was totally Sokka's doing. Such faith in his friends.

How dumb are these fire nation soldiers? They had superior numbers and weaponry but made sure to wait the appropriate amount of time for the full child-soldier squad to arrive and even out the advantage. Between these idiots and the stupid earth kingdom soldiers in the episode with the black and white spirit, I'm starting to think that this war could be over in 10 minutes if each side unleashed a squad of ten year olds.

This man's weapon is LOG.

Katara DON'T YOU DARE.

Huh. This is an actual squad of child soldiers, led by a teenage boy with Peter Pan vibes. This will end well.

Aang can charm anybody. And it's all genuine too.

Why does a kid who can't be more than like seven know what munitions smell like?

This Jet guy has untrustworthy eyebrows. Obviously this is being set up so that Katara is embarassingly into him and Sokka's jealousy of his leadership or fighting skills or whatever makes him suspicious, but this guy is too smooth.

So Katara gets a ride up but Sokka gets an arm dislocated?

An airbender would love this place, wouldn't he?

Did they stick Appa in a treehouse? Isn't he like super heavy?

I don't like this boy. I don't like. Cult leader vibes here. Knows exactly what to say. Exactly which buttons to push.

NO no no do NOT fall for it Sokka. Your instincts! Listen to them!

Does that work? Can you use a knife in a tree like a stethoscope?

I KNEW IT!!! A FUCKBOY!!!

Jesus Jet's psychotic! This is a kids' show!

Now we've moved on to garden variety mugging.

Even these kids' presents are destructive.

NO. No Katara. Did she sew a hat from leaves?

Thug? I'd use something stronger. I would pay to see Sokka swear.

What do you want to bet that that's Jet's knife? This prick. You are not important enough to be assassinated. This kid's complexes have complexes.

This fucker twists words. Sokka's right. He is smooth. oh god this is making my skin crawl.

Peak comfy.

It's the knife! Also is that headband adhering to this child's eyeballs?

"We can't win without making some sacrifices." And have you asked these sacrifices for their consent?

This guy is totally nuts. He's twisted things around so much in his own head to justify his actions that it's like he sees a completely different world than reality.

I feel dirty finding beauty in such an episode that deals with such horrific subject matter. Is it strange that Aang being the sole survivor of an actual genocide and finding his friend's skeleton didn't freak me out, but this Jet guy makes me want to reach for Holy Water?

This whole conversation makes my skin crawl. It's masterful manipulation. I'm no psychologist or whatever to break this down, but in a few sentences, Jet: -Portrays Sokka in a good light, which he -chalks up to Katara's good influence, thus flattering her, while also -making himself seem like a good, forgiving guy willing to selflessly make allowances for the flaws of others (Sokka), painting himself in the best light out of everyone present, while also -Providing a reason for why Sokka isn't there, which will prevent Aang & Katara from wondering where he is, thus eliminating all possibility of rescue (unless Appa saves the day again).

and all of that is going on while Jet has explicitly given orders that Sokka have god knows what done to him, fully aware of how important he is to Katara and Aang (otherwise he wouldn't use forgiving Sokka to further ingratiate himself with Katara). It's masterful. It's disgusting and awful and exactly the kind of twisty that traps people in horrible situations, but it's also performed with such skill. How many other people that Jet thought could be useful has he pulled this on?

I am not convinced by the physics of this. Can water do this?

"I've never used bending on water I can't see." Um, yes you have? That time you un-drowned Aang on Kyoshi island, getting the water out of Haru's mom's water pump, getting the water out of your very much not transparent POUCH?

No. Fuck off. Leave my girl alone. Hands off.

Good thing Katara taught Aang some waterbending moves last episode. Nice continuity to see him immediately using them here.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see us." Girl no. Brace yourself. Fuck this boy.

"Jet's a great leader. We follow what he says, and things always turn out ok." So you've outsourced both your morals and your thinking?

Nice callback to the beginning of the episode. One thing I love about this show so far is how well it sets up tiny things early on that I take to be worldbuilding, that turn out to be big things later that are actually critical to the plot. There's so much thought put into each episode.

Log man may be a brainwashed supporter of a terrorist, but you have to admit he knows how to go with the flow. Stuck in a cage? Might as well enjoy the bait.

Again, so pretty, so horrible.

"Jet wouldn't do that." Wanna bet?

Not only a fuckboy, but proud of it too. This is just disgusting. Does he honestly not see what's wrong with what he's doing, or has he worked so hard at justifying his choices that he's deluded himself?

I am honestly disappointed that he didn't eat dirt.

Never have I been happier to contemplate the potential long term frost bite damage of waterbending. Wreck him. Obliterate the fuckboy.

This was a lesson that Katara had to learn, that I've been rooting to see her learn, but damn if this isn't painful to watch. "You're sick and I trusted you!" As disgusted with herself as she is with him. Not your fault. Some people in this world are just fuckboys. Or, you know, leaders of terrorist cells that employ child soldiers. In any other genre of show, the whole child soldier thing would have tipped them off.

This show once again pulls no punches. This whole sequence is intense. The music cuts out, even the picture fades out. In any genre but a kid's show, Sokka would full on die here.

How many episodes now is it that Sokka's quick thinking and Appa's existence combine to save the day?

I love this art style. It looks like it's painted with tea. And the shine on Sokka's hair is so pretty.

This healed some of the psychic damage I took from this episode. Missus Pretty. That's exactly the kind of name a doll would have too.

I love that she leaves him there frozen. I hope no one comes to save him for a very long time.

I've hit the image limit for this post (didn't know there was one - learned something new today!), so just imagine a screenshot of the most disdainful yip yip ever executed.

Sokka is so clearsighted in this whole final scene with fuckboy. Every line is pure wisdom. It's delicious.

Aang told Jet earlier that it was out of character for Sokka to apologise, but it's Katara who should be apologising for the (horribly realistic) folly of trusting a too-smooth guy. She did apologise to the empty air just before the dam blew, but would it kill her to say it to his face?

Final Thoughts

This episode was a masterpiece. That's the word I keep coming back to: a masterpiece, masterful. This episode hit every note it was aiming for and executed every beat perfectly. Everything this episode set out to do was accomplished, and then surpassed. It feels like a giant step up in quality compared to every episode before it. This episode was a masterpiece and I will never watch it again because I never want to see a fuckboy portrayed so accurately ever again. I enjoyed seeing him get wrecked in the end but I won't be able to sit through all the work up to that wrecking again, knowing exactly the manipulation that Jet pulls. Jet makes my skin crawl. The way Jet takes advantage of, actually actively cultivates and then takes advantage of, Katara's crush on him, it makes my skin crawl. The way he takes advantage of Katara and Sokka's difference of opinion makes my skin crawl. This guy plays people like they're instruments and he's a maestro and it makes my skin CRAWL.

I'm also getting kind of tired of yelling 'Sokka's right!' at the screen every second episode. Not that I want him to be wrong, but it's like the lessons learned last episode don't carry over to the next one.

Aang was Aang this episode, with very few lines and basically no agency the whole plot. Just a tag-along. However, I think there's a contrast between how he genuinely makes friends and how Jet manipulates people into working for him. Aang says Pipsqueak's name is hilarious, because to Aang, that is a hilarious name. He's honest, and that wins him a friend. Does Jet say a single honest sentence in this whole episode? Ever? And he's won the loyalty of his Lost Boys more thoroughly than Aang wins over Pipsqueak. Chilling.

This was a Katara episode, which the last one was too. I'm getting tired of her not learning her lesson too. Stop trusting people so easily, and listen to your brother (when he's not trying to assert his manliness at least).

I predicted at the beginning that this would be a 'Sokka the good leader' episode rather than a 'Katara screws up' episode, since that was literally last episode's plot. This episode might as well have been called 'Katara Screws Up part 2: Actual Consequences This Time.' Last episode a bunch of pirates and a not very competent avatar hunter lost their ships. This episode? a completely uninvolved village got their buildings destroyed. To be clear, that's completely not Katara's fault, but she does seem to be developing a talent at getting into Situations.

I feel cheated that this episode had such a beautiful setting for such twisted people. I'm going to go watch some cleansing Spongebob.

[innonurse]

Mark your calendar for these health tech conferences in 2024-2025

- By InnoNurse Staff -

Interested in health technology-related events for fall 2024 and 2025? Fierce Healthcare has compiled a list of key conferences, both virtual and in-person, scheduled for the upcoming seasons.

Read more at Fierce Healthcare

///

Other recent news and insights

Lapsi transforms the stethoscope into a health tracking data platform (TechCrunch)

UK: The Department of Health and Social Care set to review clinical risk standards for digital health technologies (Digital Health)

AI-based cancer test determines if chemotherapy is needed (The Financial Express)

New tool enhances microscopic imaging by eliminating motion artifacts (UC Berkeley/Tech Xplore)

Researchers integrate a fast optical coherence tomography system into neurosurgical microscopes (Optica)

AI model achieves clinical-expert-level accuracy in complex medical scans (UCLA/Medical Xpress)

Bioinformatics reveals the hidden prevalence of repeat expansion disorders (Queen Mary University of London/Medical Xpress)

Ultrasound detects 96% of ovarian cancers in postmenopausal women (University of Birmingham)

AI ‘liquid biopsies’ using cell-free DNA and protein biomarkers could improve early ovarian cancer detection (Johns Hopkins Technology Ventures)

Mammograms show potential for detecting heart disease (UC San Diego/Medical Xpress)

IMRT and proton therapy provide similar quality of life and tumor control for prostate cancer patients (American Society for Radiation Oncology/Medical Xpress)

Machine learning enhances MRI video quality (Graz University of Technology/Medical Xpress)

Robotic surgery for colorectal cancer reduces pain and accelerates recovery (Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center)

Global human brain mapping project releases its first data set (Allen Institute)

AI could speed up PCR tests, aiding faster DNA diagnostics and forensics (Flinders University/Medical Xpress)

AI-powered apps may detect depression through eye snapshots (Stevens Institute of Technology/Medical Xpress)

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Six

A/N: This is the follow up to Playing With Fire, but can be read as a standalone. I thought Frerin deserved a nice, steamy romp just like his older brother got with Leda, so this is his story. I know I’ve got like three other fics to update, but I thought maybe I’d throw this out there and see what everyone thought of it… 

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x ofc Elena Madison

Characters:Frerin, Carol Kingsley, Ashley, Vanessa, Flynn, Maura, Jake

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k 

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Frerin stared at his inbox as if it had personally insulted him. How did the paperwork double in the span of a day? It seemed like he no sooner beat the stack into submission before it sprouted up three more inches. A hydra of JCAHO, Medicare, Medicaid, and insurance forms, all needing to be filled out, reviewed, or signed and when he did, more would just reappear. It never ended. 

His pager went off as he reached for the first binder-clipped sheaf of papers. They went ignored as he glanced down at the number. Three-three-one-five. The ER. It was nearly three in the morning and things had been quiet, so he’d managed to plow through at lease some of the paperwork. But a page to the ER at that hour was never anything good. 

His chair squeaked as he rolled back from his desk and stood, hooking a finger in the neck of his lab coat to swing it around. His new pink stethoscope lay coiled on his desk, compliments of Jerry, who handled procurement, and he smiled as he picked it up to drape about his neck. It was Thursday night, well, technically early Friday morning, and he had about three hours left in his shift. He’d go home in time to get the kids ready to go to school, and then come tomorrow morning, they’d be going off with Toni for the weekend and he was not looking forward to it. As the week had progressed, Jake grew more and more insistent that he didn't want to go with his mother and as much as Frerin wished he could just let him stay home, he knew Toni would be on the phone with her lawyer so fast, his head would spin. 

Lawyers. Arguments. Court dates. Those were what filled his free time and while he’d sat in on meetings with the hospital lawyers for various reasons, he’d never had to keep one on retainer until last winter. He found that all things considered, he preferred when he didn't have a lawyer on speed dial.

The pediatric ward was quiet, the rooms all mostly dark, the nurses, doctors, orderlies all walked softly and spoke in hushed tones. The nurses had been busy decorating the floor with red and green garlands, a six foot tall blue spruce tree stood in the corner across from the desk, draped with paper chains he’d seen some of the kids in the pediatric unit gluing together earlier. Candy canes and colored balls of varying size hung from the branches and a menorah stood on the desk itself. 

“If anyone needs me,” he said, pausing by the desk, “I’ll be down in the ER.”

“Go with God, Dr. Durin,” Angela said. “It’s a zoo down there tonight. I bumped into Carol Kingsley earlier and she said they’ve got them stacked three deep in some areas. Christmas parties in addition to the bar mayhem.”

“I just hope none of them are kids,” he replied softly.

Angela’s eyes grew sympathetic. “They paged you down, Frerin. That can’t be good.”

“I know.” He rubbed his eyes and then rapped his knuckles lightly against the desk. “Keep your fingers crossed just the same.”

“Will do.”

Labor and Delivery and the Neo-Natal ICU were at the far end of the corridor and he passed by them on his was to the elevators. The walls in the Pedes ward were bright and festive, but down here, the colors were sedate and tranquil—mostly soft blue and pale dusty rose—and it was noisier as well. Especially in the NICU, where monitors and alarms went off seemingly nonstop. Labor and Delivery was quiet for the moment, but that could always change in the blink of an eye.

When his own kids were babies, Frerin had a hard time just looking at the NICU. Jake was six weeks premature and had spent some time there and Frerin remembered all too well how awful it felt to be in that small room, standing over his newborn son, helpless despite all of his medical knowledge and training to do anything more. 

There were two couples and one single woman doing just that over three separate hospital bassinets now and Frerin sighed softly as the NICU team swarmed around the single woman’s child, monitors blaring, a doctor gently—but firmly—moving the mother (Frerin assumed she was the mother) aside.

He tried not to think about it as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in, but as the doors began to slide shut, the woman looked over at him and her expression was a like a punch to the gut. He’d seen it before, more times than he’d cared to think about—pleading, resigned, and numb all in one exhausted face. 

The doors slid shut and he leaned against the back wall with a sigh. Sunday couldn't get here soon enough. He looked forward to seeing Elena again.

He looked forward to kissing her again. 

It had been a long time since the thought of a woman sent anticipation fluttering through him, but Elena did just that. He couldn't stop thinking about her—her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes sparkled, the feel of her against him. He wanted to feel that again. Soon. 

The doors opened into chaos. The ER always picked up when the bars closed at two AM and the holiday situation only made it worse. He stepped out into the hallway, and was promptly grabbed by a guy parked in the hallway.

“You a doc?”

“Yes, I am, but,” Frerin jerked his wrist free, “I’m not a grownup doctor.”

“So we’ve heard. What are you doing down here again?”

“Funny.” He looked over at Carol. “I was paged, where’s the kid?”

Carol shook her head as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “I don't know. I didn't page you.” 

The guy on the gurney grabbed for him again. “Hey, doc, you aren’t doing anything important, take a look at my foot, will you?”

“Pipe down, Tony,” Carol snapped, moving to the end of his gurney. “What did you do this time?”

“I put my foot through a fucking picture frame, that’s what.”

She sighed. “How did you manage that?”

“I dunno. I’m clumsy.”

This time, Tony reached for her, and Frerin snagged his wrist before he could grab her. “Enough. Let her look at it. Carol, if you need me to stitch it—”

“Mark’s coming. He’s dealing with another frequent flyer in Curtain Two, it won’t be long.”

“You touch Nurse Kingsley again,” Frerin turned to Tony, “and you go in restraints. Got it?”

“Yeah, man. I got it.”

“Good.” Frerin released him. “Carol, he gives you any more trouble—”

“Security isn’t far.” She smiled up at him as she peeled off Tony’s bloody sock. “Go.”

Frerin skirted them to make his way to the front desk. “Someone paged me?”

“Dr. D,” Ashley smiled up at him, “I did. We’ve got a nine year old in anaphylactic shock rolling up in five.”

“Do we know what caused it?”

“No. Collins didn't say.”

“Okay. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Let me know when they get here.”

He crossed over to the lounge and sighed at the nearly-empty coffee pot left on the burner, which baked the last remnants of the previous pot into the glass. “Wonderful.”

He’d just put the pot in to soak when the door banged open and a nurse in dark green said, “Dr. Durin? Rig’s pulling up with your anaphylaxis kid.”

“What’s open?”

“Trauma One.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She bobbed her head and the door swung shut. He grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, then hurried back out to Trauma One just as the paramedics wheeled in the nine year old. “Give me the bullet.”

“Max Gonzales,” the paramedic said, “nine years old, apparently allergic to cashews and only found out about half an hour ago. Mom and dad are on their way. His BP is—”

Frerin listened with one ear as he smiled down at the wheezing, dark-haired boy on the gurney. “Hi, Max. Can you understand me?”

Max nodded. 

“Good.” Frerin let his hand skim lightly along Max’s tousled dark hair. “I’m Dr. Durin and I know you’re having trouble breathing, but it’s going to be okay, all right? Your mom and dad will be here in a few minutes, but I’ve got you.”

“I—can’t—br—breathe…”

“I know. And I’m going to fix that for you, promise.” He looked over at the nurse who’d alerted him to the rig rolling up. She had to be new, because he had no idea who she was. “I’m sorry, I don't know your name.”

“Vanessa.”

“Vanessa, let’s start with point-three of epi, IM.”

She nodded. “On it.”

“Good.” He turned back to Max. ��Hang in there, buddy. Medicine’s coming.”

Max reached for him, and Frerin smiled as he caught the boy’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Max.”

Max’s fingers tightened about his as Vanessa administered the epinephrine, and within a few seconds, his breathing eased. Frerin eased his hand from Max’s and fit his stethoscope ear pieces in, then slid the diaphragm under the boy’s dinosaur pajama top. “Can you sit up for me, Max?”

“I think so.”

He did as Frerin asked, stiffening slightly when Frerin slid the stethoscope over his back. “I know, it’s a little cold and I’m sorry about that. It’ll warm up quickly.” He moved it from left to right, then down lightly and back to the left. 

“Sounds pretty good, buddy. Is breathing easier now?”

Max nodded. “A lot easier.”

“Good.” He looked up at Vanessa and bobbed his head. “Let’s put him on point-seven albuterol and move him into a quiet room for observation. Are his parents here yet?”

With that, the doors to the trauma room opened and Ashley said, “Dr. Durin, I’ve got Mr. And Mrs Gonzales.”

“Perfect timing.” Frerin pulled the earpiece free and draped the stethoscope about his neck. “I’m Dr. Durin. Did you know Max was allergic to cashews?”

“No. He’s never been allergic to anything,” Mrs. Gonzales replied, staring at her son with glinting eyes. “He’s a healthy kid.”

“What were you doing eating nuts in the middle of the night, kiddo?” Mr. Gonzales asked. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was hungry.”

“Well, next time, maybe have something else,” Frerin told him. “At least, have something you know you can eat. Mom, Dad, I think it’d be a good idea to set up an appointment with an allergist, so we don't have to do this again.”

Mrs. Gonzales looked from her son to him. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Don’t worry, we can give you a few names,” Vanessa assured her with a smile. 

“Thank you.” Mrs. Gonzales looked back at him and gestured to her son with one hand. “Can I touch him?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to come closer. “We’re just going to move him to a quieter room and keep an eye on him for a little while, but I don't think he’ll need to be admitted. Vanessa, would go with them?”

“Of course.” She smiled as one of the residents wheeled Max toward the doors. 

“Thank you, Dr. Durin,” Mr. Gonzales said softly, his hand at the small of his wife’s back. 

“I’ll come by in a bit to check on him. Vanessa, any changes, let me know at once.”

“Will do, doctor.”

The doors swung shut and the room was strangely quiet. He glanced up at the clock. Ten to four. Two more hours.

His pager went off and he sighed as he reached up to rub his eyes. NICU. Fuck.

The house was quiet and dark when he pulled into the driveway and as he killed the Infiniti’s engine, Frerin leaned his head back and let his eyes close. Working with kids was great most of the time, but like he told Elena, when it went south, it was horrible.

The human body was as fragile as it was resilient and some of the worst moments of his career were those when he had to pronounce an infant. Those moments aged him. When his kids were younger, he’d come off a shift like this one and just stand over their bassinet, their crib, their toddler bed, and silently thank whatever higher power was at work in making sure his children remained healthy and whole. 

They were older now, but his need to check on them hadn’t waned. He went inside, crept noiselessly up the main staircase, and began in Flynn’s room, which took a bit of navigational skill, as it often looked like a bomb had gone off in there. But, his firstborn was sound asleep, snoring like a buzzsaw, as Toni used to say about him.

Maura was next. Her room was far neater than her brother’s and definitely girlier, with its soft pink walls and sheer pink curtains dotted with silver sequins in a butterfly pattern. A salt lamp glowed from pink to blue to purple on the small wood and tile-top table she’d made the previous year in woodshop and she was sound asleep beneath the fluffy pink comforter that was part of the bedding set he and Toni had given her for Christmas the previous year.

He bent over to lightly kiss her forehead, smiling as she mumbled, “Go ’way,” and rolled over to offer him her back. 

He tugged the comforter up to her shoulder and crept from her room to Jake’s, at the end of the hall closest to the bedroom Frerin once shared with Toni. With a soft sigh, Frerin just gazed down at his baby. He was almost eleven years old, but to Frerin, he would always be his baby and asleep, as the others did, Jake looked even younger. 

Pulling Jake’s door by, Frerin stepped out into the hallway and sighed softly as he made his way to his own bedroom, where he unknotted his dark blue and silver swirled tie, and then unbuttoned his pale blue dress shirt. The tie went back on the rack in the closet, his belt on the hook alongside it, and as he came back out of the closet, he tossed the shirt and his socks into the laundry basket on the floor alongside his high chest of drawers. His trousers would go into the pile to go to the cleaners before work on Saturday, and clad in only his dark gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he padded into the bathroom and started the shower. 

He stood under the hot spray, eyes closed, water sluicing down along his temples, soaking into his beard, pounding over his shoulders. He made no move to reach for soap or shampoo, unable to get that NICU mom out of his mind. Her name was Amelia, she was seventeen years old, and her family disowned her because of the baby girl she’d given birth to not quite twenty-four weeks along. And there was nothing he could do for her daughter. Nothing the hospital could do. The only thing he could do was look up at the clock, pronounce her daughter’s time of death and offer his condolences. And when he did, she just stared up at him for a long moment and then whispered, “Is that it?”

He’d nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d bobbed her head, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Then she’d bowed her head and one of the NICU nurses eased an arm about her shoulders, while he filled out the paperwork. When he’d finished, Amelia was on the phone, not crying, but she sounded almost dazed and when he’d passed by, she reached out to catch his wrist and thanked him.

Thanked him.

He did nothing to be thanked for and yet—

She’d thanked him.

“Fuck.” He reached for the shampoo.

When he emerged, in a cloud of steam, he felt more like himself and when he came down into the kitchen and heard Flynn and Maura arguing over who was the better goalie, Richter or Lundvist, he chimed in with, “Shesterkin has them both beat,” as he crossed to the Keurig.

“That’s what I said,” Jake broke in. “And they ignored me.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a cup,” Flynn said.

“Neither does Hank and you’re throwing his name out regardless,” Frerin tugged open the drawer below the counter, where the K-Cups were kept, and took out a Folger’s Black Silk pod. “And why are you fighting about hockey anyway? Did I miss something last night?”

“No. Boston kicked the shit out of the Rangers.”

“Flynn, mouth.”

He shook his longish dark hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. How was your shift?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why? What happened?” This came from Maura, who set her spoon against the side of her bowl. “Did you lose someone, Dad?”

“Yeah. A micropreemie. But, I also saved a kid from anaphylaxis, so there’s that.”

“What’s anaphylaxis?” Jake asked.

“He was allergic to cashews and had trouble breathing. But, he got the ER in time and will go home with his parents later today.” Frerin took the cup from the tray on the Keurig and brought it up for a much needed sip. “Did you all get your homework done?”

“Yeah.” Maura sighed. “Flynn had to help me with my algebra homework. Why do I even have to learn this? When will I ever use it again?”

To Frerin’s surprise, Flynn nudged her shoulder with his. “You’ll get it. It’s just that Mrs. Henderson is old and a crappy teacher. Nobody who has her understands algebra because she’s a dinosaur who doesn’t remember how to teach it.”

“It’s still stupid. And I have a test on Monday. I’m never gonna pass it.”

“I’ll help you over the weekend. Bring your stuff when we go to Mom’s.”

Maura wrinkled her nose and Frerin braced himself as her blue eyes met his. “Do we have to go to Mom’s this weekend? We’re seeing her on Christmas, isn’t that enough? I can’t stand that stupid boyfriend of hers.”

“Yes, you do and no, it’s not. In that order.” Frerin lowered his cup. “And what’s wrong with him?”

She just shot him a look. “Are you serious, Dad?”

“Yeah. I’m dead serious.”

“Well, for starters, it’s just like the last time. He’s overly friendly, like he wants to prove he doesn’t hate us just for existing, but you just know he wishes Mom would just not want us to come over.” Maura flung herself against the back of her chair with enough force it rocked back slightly. “And he’s just so skeezy.”

That made Frerin straighten up. “Skeezy how?”

“He’s like a used car salesman,” Flynn broke in, “all big teeth, cheesy smile, and back slaps. I want to dick punch him. He’s just such an ass.”

Frerin bit back a smile. “Ignore him. Your mother is the one you’re there to see. And as long as he keeps his distance…”

“You know, Dad,” Maura grinned up at him, “you didn't tell us how your date went the other night and you were home by eleven. Was it that bad? Tell me it wasn’t that bad, please.”

“No,” he shook his head, moving to the table to sit across from them, “it wasn’t bad at all, but it also wasn't a date.”

“You went to dinner,” Jake told him pointedly. “Isn’t that a date?”

“We didn't go out to dinner. That’s this Sunday.”

“Mom’s gonna flip,” Maura chuckled. “She asks about you, you know.”

“Maur, don't even go there,” he told her softly, shaking his head. 

“I know, but she does. And are we going to get to meet this mystery woman?”

“In time, if things go well. But, I promise you, she is not a skeezy used car salesman type at all.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “You two should get going.”

“Yeah, I know,” Flynn signed as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “Dad, you cannot possibly do any worse than Mom has.”

“Well, that’s something.” Frerin grinned at his oldest. “Drive carefully and make sure Jake eats something besides Frosted Flakes for dinner tonight.”

“Dad, when do you go back on days?”

He looked over at Jake. “Not until after the New Year. It’s only a few more weeks.”

“I hate when you work nights.”

“Yeah, I’m not too crazy about it, either, but that’s being a grownup, bud. You sometimes have to work the overnight shift when you don't want to.”

“Just think,” Maura rose from her chair and deposited her cereal bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, “in a few years, you’ll be able to throw parties when Dad’s working graveyard.”

Jake’s eyes lit, but before he could say anything, Frerin broke in, “I’ll hire a night nanny for you if that’s a possibility.”

“You never let us have any fun.” Maura slung her backpack over her left shoulder. 

“I know. Mean Dad strikes again. Have a good day, both of you and Flynn—”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’ll drive carefully.”

“Humor your old man, okay?”

The two of them thudded out of the kitchen and a moment later, the front door slammed. Jake sighed softly, setting his spoon down. “I really do hate when you work nights.”

“I know. I really don't like it, either, but sometimes, I have to work the shifts no one else can. That’s what being the boss means.”

“I thought it meant telling everyone what to do.”

“Well, there’s that, but it’s also picking up the slack when no one else can, either. And right now, my department is understaffed.”

“Where are all the doctors?”

“That, Jake, is a good question. Budget cuts make hiring staff and keeping staff more difficult when private hospitals don't have that problem and can lure good doctors away.”

“Why don't you do that? Aren’t you a good doctor?”

Frerin grinned. “I hope I am, but I’m happy where I am. I like where I am.”

“Mom used to get mad when you did the overnights. Is that why she left?”

Frerin sighed. Jake didn't know and he wasn't about to tell him the real reason why he and Toni were divorcing. “No, it’s a lot more complicated than that. Your mother and I just can’t live together any more.”

Jake sighed softly. “I hate that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frerin reached out to rumple his thick auburn hair. “But sometimes, life throws crappy stuff at you. This is one of those times.”

Jake looked up at him. “But, if Mom said she was sorry—”

“We’ve had this discussion,” Frerin broke in gently, “and that’s not going to happen, Jake. Like I’ve said, the day will come when you will understand and you’ll realize we did the right thing. It’s better for you and Maura and Flynn.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will.”

“One day, right?”

Frerin nodded. “One day, I promise.” He glanced up at the clock. “We should get you off to school, buddy. Go get your stuff.”

Jake slid down from his chair and strode out of the kitchen to head up to his room. As his footfalls sounded overhead, Frerin sank back in his chair and sighed. One day. 

It couldn't come soon enough.

[violetfairydust]

Friday the 13th Snippet Special

I'm going to post some of my snippets that didn't make the cut for my Hale-o-ween lineup. Happy Friday the 13th!

1. Malia Runs into Theo

As Malia rounded the corner, she almost ran into Theo who was holding Bree in a sling. She jumped back. Scott was still looking at the witchy stuff. He only saw her jump from the corner of his eye.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just ran into Norman Bates and the seed of Chucky.”

Scott looked up and saw Theo and Bree. “Don’t be rude to Norman Bates.”

Malia ignored Scott’s comment. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here? I’m getting a costume for my angel. It’s her first Halloween.”

“That’s no angel,” Malia snapped. “That’s half the creep factor from The Shining.”

Theo held up two options. “Which one is cuter? The bumblebee or the ladybug?”

Malia stared at him with her arms crossed and didn’t blink. Theo waited patiently for her answer. Scott had slipped away to another aisle.

“The bumblebee,” Malia relented.

Theo smiled. “I think so, too. What do you think, Bree? The bumblebee or the ladybug?”

She stuck her little tongue out and closed her lips on it. She reached for the bumblebee costume.

“The bumblebee it is. That is a great choice. I’m going to call her Bumble Bree.”

“Get out of my face,” Malia said.

2. Stiles is Going to Con People

“There’s going to be a hay ride,” Stiles added.

Isaac cocked his head. “Tempting, but I’d rather fall asleep on the couch instead of the field where you’ll run me over with the tractor.”

Stiles winked and went into the other room.

“Where are you going for trick or treating?” Peter wondered. He stood behind Lydia and wrapped an arm around her waist. She smiled and leaned back against him.

“Babies aren’t allowed to eat candy,” Lydia reminded them.

“I know,” Stiles sassed. He leaned on the back of the couch with his left arm propping his up. He crossed his left ankle over the right. “The candy’s for me. I’m just hiding behind my kids because it’s much better to hand out Kit Kats to a deer, a dragon, and Minnie than some old guy in a suit.”

3. Kira's "Costume"

Kira joined the party in scrubs and a white coat. Her stethoscope hung around her neck. She smiled at her friends and went to join Malia, Lydia, and Allison by the orange feathered Halloween tree.

“I guess every day is Halloween for you,” Allison said.

“Oh, I am in costume.”

Malia shifted uncomfortably in her shoes. “What are you? Is this not what you wear to work?”

“I’m a doctor in the ER.” She smiled. “I borrowed the stethoscope. I usually wear my regular clothes to work.”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“I figured no one would care. I’m in the morgue anyway. Who else are you going to get to be the M.E.?”

“Fair enough.”

4. Stiles and Derek Review the Candy Stiles Conned Out of People

Derek turned the signal on. “What did you get?”

“I got some licorice from Erica, peanut butter cups from Parrish, starburst from Deaton, and an egg from Coach.”

“An egg?”

“He said he didn’t want to waste the candy since our kids can’t eat it. He had eaten most of it himself anyway.”

5. The Hales Go to the Halloween Store

Malia and Scott paced down the aisles of the décor, Stiles rolled the stroller down the baby costume aisle with Derek next to him, and Cora and Isaac followed. Peter, Lydia, Jackson, and Allison wandered towards the back.

“Don’t we have enough decorations?” Jackson asked. “Every day I get home from work, it’s like walking into Dracula’s castle.”

“Vampires!” Stiles exclaimed.

Allison eyed the skeleton head soap dispenser. “Is there anything from this store we don’t own?”

“Yeah.” Peter gestured to the shelf. “We don’t own Skabs the dog corpse.”

“I guess that wasn’t here when we came three days ago.”

[triviareads]

Releases on April 25th

Summary

Daniel Millstone, Duke of Warwick would rather be alone and tinkering with his machines, while Adeline Foster just wants to live a quiet life in the country and practice the healing arts, but circumstances force them to pretend they are courting. This way, Daniel can remove himself from the marriage mart, and Adeline is spared an arranged marriage she has no say in. What they do not count on, is deeper feelings emerging between them, despite the inauspicious start to their relationship.

Review

This is my first book by Tina Gabrielle and this, along with the fact that the female cover model seemed to be an Asian woman, made me very excited to jump into this story.

The first few chapters told me that Adeline's father was an English earl and her mother was the daughter of an Arab rug merchant, so there are expressions of her heritage scattered across the story (henna, za'atar, dolma, use of aloe vera for medicinal purposes, habibti, etc.). Adeline does experience bigotry, especially from her half-brother Edwin, the new earl. It was personally a little uncomfortable for me to read, but I got through it. In contrast, Daniel whole-heartedly embraces Adeline's culture and even takes part in it.

This is a classic fake-dating (fake courtship) story. The hero especially just wants to be removed from the marriage mart and the match-making machinations of his godmother. Their initial bargain is to keep up their ruse for the Season, and then go their separate ways. Obviously, it doesn't work out so easily, especially when feelings get involved.

Tina also really goes into the weeds when it comes to Daniel and Adeline's respective hobbies. There are multiple scenes where Adeline is given an opportunity to help people who are ill, and as for Daniel, uh... I will say this: trying to invent a steam-powered engine sounds a lot more impressive than a lawnmower.... or a self-tying corset 😂. But taking an interest in each others' passions is basically the tip-off point for their relationship, which I did think was cute. Like, he bought her an apron so she doesn't get bloodstains on her skirt! Their first kiss happens after they use the newfangled stethoscope on each other! She gets jealous about a lady mathematician and is all "have they shared more than FORMULAS?". It's great.

The sex:

I think the sex scenes were in all the right places— like sure, Adeline and Daniel were attracted to one another pretty early on, but it didn't make sense for their characters to have sex until they knew one another better, and that too, it's something they (Adeline especially, as a woman) choose of their own volition to have, outside the bounds of their courtship. The sex itself was nothing super stand-out.

Overall:

How Not To Marry A Duke wasn't personally for me, but if you're looking for a light read with diverse characters and feminist undertones, then I think you will enjoy this book.

I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own. Thank you to Entangled Publishing for this ARC.

[kitweewoos]

🎁🎁🎁🎁 I visit Will for the first time (I am going to Chicago from where I am from Spain) (because I am completely in love with him well my feelings for him I cannot describe why without infinitely) then I go to the med for a review of my left foot (that he do it carefully) then he sees that in my left foot and well I tell him everything about my left foot so I start to cry inconsolably because it was the worst day of my life (the day I had surgery my left foot for the first time and that he is my motivation to keep going and never give up (I have no words to describe it) and then he calms me down where he knows then Will tells me to go home because he wants to get to know me more I tell him everything about myself and etc. and then I tell him that my heart beats only for him, so Will listens to me with his stethoscope and I tell him everything about my feelings for him and also the feelings that he feels for me can s Will tells me that I stayed the night at his house and I fall asleep peacefully on his chest knowing that my great dream of being with Will Halstead (Nick Gehlfuss) has come true.

Hi sweetheart, the emoji you sent me 🎁 is actually just for prompting me to work on a current WIP, not for prompting new fics. I appreciate your interest in prompting fics from me, however I don't write x-reader fics or self inserts. Thank you so much for your interest, and hopefully you'll find someone to write a fic for you 💙