#but like. the tech asked at least once if I’ve ever had surgery there so…be that what you will

[void-tiger]

I suppose it makes sense that skipping my medication yesterday, swallowing barium while trying not to spit it up, and having a nurse press on me with an air-filled paddle to make sure the barium was…exiting properly by making my small intestine to shoo aside and let her see my large intestine would…ya know…do it to make an already always cranky gut sore.

But also. OW.

(I was warned about the barium tasting gross with a gross texture, at least.)

[navalcriminalimagines]

Hi!! Happy New Year!! So....I had a request that I’ve been dying to ask for like the longest time. But what if the reader is a doctor and married to Gibbs, and when a member of the team is hurt, she operates/heals them? And then she comes out and comforts Gibbs like all fluffy and sweet? He’s just so in love with her?? Aahhhh makes my brain mush thinking about it xxxxx

happy new year to you too!!! thanks a lot for your request! i hope it’s what you were expecting!! much love and stay safe ✨💖

NCIS, Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader.

Being you

“Male in his thirties, gun shot in the abdomen. He lost conscious on the ride here, lost a lot of blood,” the paramedics announced to you.

As you took a look to the man laying there, all bloody, you realized it was your husband’s team member Timothy McGee. Although he was unconscious, you put your hand to his cheek, you let him know, “Tim, it’s me Y/N. You’re gonna fine okay? I’m taking care of you. Hang in there,”

Before you knew it, you were in surgery, taking the bullet off his abdomen. Tim gave you a big scare on the operating table, when his heart started to race, your assistant was scared it may stop. “Tim! don’t do this,” you took a warning ton, “Your boss won’t forgive me and he sure as hell won’t forgive you,”

You knew you had to think about your patient only, that Tim only should be in your mind but you couldn’t help but to think about your husband. You don’t know what happened exactly, how the gunshot took place but Gibbs must be in the worst state of mind right now.

The surgery lasted longer than you thought since it cause damages into Tim’s stomach. His healing will take time, and he would be out of action for months. As you were putting the last stitch on his scar, your assistant congratuled you as she always does. “Team work,” you smiled at her. You took a look at Tim’s face. He was peaceful but very pale. Once again, you put your hand on his cheek, “You did good, Tim.”

You made sure he was taken safely into the resuscitation room, and walked to the waiting room. You thought your husband would be there, standing and waiting but instead, you saw Abby, Ducky and Jimmy. The lab tech jumped into your arms, not caring about the blood you had all over your blouse, “Is he okay? Is Tim okay?”

“He’s fine, Abbs. Still unconscious, but you’ll be able to see him soon,” you softly smiled at her.

“I knew he was in good hand,” you heard the medical examiner telling you.

You hugged Ducky and Jimmy, before asking. “Where’s Jethro?”

“Chasing the man who did this. Safe to say that one won’t stop by your operating table,” Jimmy awkwardly laughed. Tipical Jimmy Palmer. Of course the man who shot Tim was a dead man.

Your shift was over hours ago, but as long as Jethro was still out there looking for the shooter, you stayed around to check on Tim. You know your husband isn’t a texter, but you kept checking your phone to see if he has answer your text.

Tim’s safe. How are you? And the team? You guys stay safe, okay? Want you to be there when I get home. I love you, J.

The morning rose. Tim was still out. Abby, Ducky and Jimmy made rounds to stay with him. “Doc! Already here or never left?” Your assistant greeted you in the locker room, as her new shift was about to start.

“I stayed with my husband’s team,” you tiredly smiled at her.

“Is his coworker still okay? No complications?”

“All is good for now,”

“You should go home. We got this. We’ll take a good care of him,”

“You’re sweet but I’ll go home when J has. It’s my duty to stay here,”

“Do you have a male version of yourself? Wouldn’t mind a partner like you,”

You chuckled at her words and thanked her for always being this awesome. You heard a certain brouhaha coming from the hallway, and as you rushed there, you realized it was coming from Tim’s room. Abby looked all freaked out at you, “He—he started to convulsed. Do something, Y/N, please,” she begged.

Thank god it wasn’t something too serious. A few minutes later, Tim’s vitals came back to normal and he started to gain conscious. “Morning, Warrior,” you smiled at him.

He was out of it, his body was in total pain but he giggled at your words. “T—Thank you doc Gibbs,” he managed to say.

“Go back to sleep before Abby gives you a lecture,”

He smiled and dozed off.

It’s late in the afternoon that you heard from your husband. Or at least, that Ducky told you he was home. You checked on last time on Tim, gave instructions, told everyone to call if needed and you went home to your husband.

The house was complete dark and you didn’t hear a single sound. Jethro was probably exhausted, so you didn’t turn on the lights, only using your phone’s flash. You found him laying on the couch, face buried in a pillow. You sat next to him, softly stroked his hair and when he moved his head to the side, you kissed his temple. “Hi my love,” you whispered. “How are you?”

He turned around and opened his arms for you to come laying on his chest. “Better now,” he said. You could hear his voice was about to crack. You were exhausted from the last 40 hours - your normal shift, plus Tim’s surgery and staying until now. But your husband’s mental health was all that mattered at this moment.

You stayed in his arms for a moment, enjoying the small circles his hand was doing in your back. Eventually you sat up and took him with you. “Hungry?” He shook his head no. “Wanna go into bed?” He did the same. “I got an idea then,” you kissed his forehead, “Stay here until I call you,” Jethro watched you going upstairs and wondered how he got this lucky.

You called him ten minutes later. Unexpectedly to him, you had prepared a bath. Warm, bubbly with candles. Without a word, you helped him undressed and told him to get into the bathtub. He did as told. “Come with me,” he whispered.

“In a minute,”

But first, you offered to massage his scalp and temples. Leaning into every touch, Jethro felt all the tensions for the past day fading away. Maybe all the tensions he ever had even. He doesn’t understand how he got you to fall in love with him. How could a woman like you marry him? He could never understand.

Still leaning into your touch, he repeated, “Come with me, Y/N,” he sounded so needy, you couldn’t refuse this time. You felt his blue eyes all on you as you undressed and joined him in the bathtub. He laid down and invited you to come rest on his chest, but you refused and made him spin around in the bathtub. He heard him giggle as his legs were blocked. You don’t get to hear his laugh often, and it made you fall in love with him a little more. Finally, he managed to spin and laid down on your chest. “What did I do?” You heard him say, as you were softly caressing his arms and chest, playing with his chest hair from time to time.

“What?” You asked.

“What did I do so you fell in love with me? And—married me?” He asked. It sounded like a genuine question.

“It would take me a book to answer this and you don’t read books,”

Jethro gets this. He got a commun point between you too; avoiding serious question about your feelings. So he let it slide. You and him stayed silent until the water got cold. You helped him wash, and so he did for you. Even if he told again he wasn’t hungry, you prepared two bowls of cereals and joined him on the couch, under blankets.

Still, he doesn’t understand. How in the world would a woman want to eat cereals in front of a tv that only has one channel. In black and white. But here you are, drinking your milk and watching the western movie as if it was the blockbuster of the year.

You were watching the tv, and Jethro was watching you when your phone buzzed. It was your coworker.

Could’ve warn me your friend was such a drama queen. He called, claiming he was dying because his stomach was making weird things. He was hungry.

You laughed at the text and read it to Jethro. “I’ll give him hard times if he gives some to your friends,” he chuckled, getting you closer to him and kissing your temple.

“Why didn’t you come see him?” You asked.

“Chased the man who did it,” he paused, “And I knew he was safe with you,”

Perhaps he did, but you could still on his face how worried he has been since yesterday. “Your cereals look like porridge,” you smiled.

“Sorry. Told you I wasn’t hungry,” Jethro said. He put his bowl on the coffee table and you felt his body curling on your side. You finished your milk, put the bowl away and opened your arms so his head could rest on your chest.

“Thank you,” you heard him whisper.

“What for?”

“Being you,”

You didn’t see the tear escaping your husband’s eye.

[yougobunny]

Tech loved his friends. 

When he found Ace on his knees in the training room, palms pressed into his eyes and groaning from the pressure pounding in his skull, Tech had a pair of goggles ready for him before dinner. When Ace went to his room that night he found it shrouded in midnight, a type of darkness that Ace had never experienced before even after the meteor crash took out the power supply in Acmetropolis. The blackout screens that Tech had installed over dinner blocked out any possible light source, and when Ace woke up the next day it wasn’t from the migraine that has stolen sleep from his eyes for what feels like a lifetime. 

Tech invented near-indestructible gloves for Rev for the speedster’s baking endeavours. Earmuffs for Lexi to mute out the world, at least temporarily. For a few weeks when Duck had demanded to add a cape to his suit, Tech sketched designs using the same material from their suits, the ones that he had already designed to be bulletproof after Slam constantly tore through the first few designs, after Ace had gotten shot. 

A few weeks after meeting her, Tech asked Sapphire for her phone over dinner and returned it a few minutes later while they were digging into dessert. Sapphire was still dressed in her butterfly scrubs, Tech could still smell the antiseptic that clung to her like a second skin at this point. “I’ve upgraded it, there’s an app right on the home screen now,” he turned the screen towards her and pointed at an icon designed to look like a sleek rendition of HQ from afar, “if you’re ever in trouble just click on this and we’ll get an alert no matter where we are.”

“Thank you,” Sapphire’s eyes flickered between Tech and the screen, her pavlova forgotten for a few heartbeats. She reached for the phone, finger hovering over the app. A distress call. A message in a bottle. “Lexi told me to just scream if I ever need help and she’d hear me.”

“I stand by that!” Lexi called out from the other side of the room, eyes not leaving the screen from whatever game she and Rev were battling out for the night. 

Tech grinned, fingers tapping on the table, “Think of this as back-up.”

Sapphire dropped her phone back into her bag, “Do you know who William Stewart Halsted is?”

Tech nodded, not perturbed in the slightest by the change of topic. He’s gotten used to it with Rev. “The inventor of the rubber gloves.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

“Necessity?”

“You could say that,” Sapphire laughed, “He was the first chief of surgery at the hospital and he loved a nurse there, she became his wife later on.” She grabbed her spoon and began digging into the pavlova once again as she talked, “He noticed that the skin of her hands had developed a bad case of dermatitis from her work at the hospital, so he introduced rubber gloves that she could wear to protect her hands. Soon everyone wore them too.” She took a bite of the dessert, swallowing before speaking once more, “It’s the great romance of medicine.”

Tech glanced down at Sapphire’s hands, then glanced around the room to where his friends were sprawled. Slam had Ace and Duck captivated with his commentary of a wrestling match on the screen that Tech had upgraded after Slam had accidentally sent the remote crashing through it once in his excitement. Lexi let out a whoop of joy, tossing her controller aside and backflipping over the couch in a celebratory lap after beating Rev. She had broken two controllers before Tech had fixed them. 

Tech loved his friends. He loved them to the point of reinvention.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

[94monkeys]

November, December and January were the worst months of my life that started out as the best months of my life. I am better, but I’m still not okay.

CW: death (not mine), medical stuff (no gore), emergency room experience

The first week of November was the election we’d been building up to, frankly, 4 years. I was basically eating, sleeping, breathing work from mid-August until the election, and then for several days after until we got the result that we wanted.

The second week in November, I found out I was pregnant. We were shocked and thrilled. (It was intentional but it was still, like, surprising that it actually worked???)

Turn back now because it only gets worse from here.

The third week in November, I find out I’m getting laid off. I was given a lot of reasons, none of which made sense, but basically a casualty of office politics way over my head. I was told that it wasn’t performance related, but it still felt brutal to have to do this after pouring myself into work. I’ve been laid off before, and it’s always a cold experience. You remember that your company only cares about you to a degree, and at the end of the day, they will always protect themselves and not you. I personally don’t understand why you would replace a professional with two part-time dilettantes on your public facing communications BUT ANYWAY!

I was asked to stay through the beginning of January and I accepted.

The fourth week in November was Thanksgiving. We were home about to make dinner for 2 (COVID). During the day, I started to feel sick and crampy. I called the urgent care nurse line and they told me to go to the ER. I live very close to a hospital, so I literally packed my biggest warmest sweatshirt and a book and walked there, leaving my spouse and the turkey still in the oven (luckily that was his purview anyway).

The ER was, surprisingly, very quiet. I was there for about 4 hours while they ran various tests on me. (They had to call a specialist in from their Thanksgiving dinner, which I felt terrible about.) Ultimately, they could not determine whether I had miscarried or not, so they sent me home with instructions to take it easy and to go in for more testing.

In December I had a doctor’s appointment where they confirmed that I was not pregnant any more. (The tech was very cold and impersonal… I was crying on the ultrasound table. I know that it was so early, but I was crying for myself and my spouse and the dreams we had invested that never came to be. I was sad because this was our first time, and it was so terrible, and we won’t ever have a first one.)

They flagged something in my blood tests that was troubling, so they ordered regular testing. I was going in about 3 times a week for blood draws. Luckily I’m not scared of needles so it was more annoying than anything.

I was also applying to and interviewing for jobs (without success) and also still working at my job where I felt literally invisible. It was a really dark time. I don’t know how else to describe it. I don’t know how I got out of bed every day. It felt like everything in my life had just collapsed at once. I didn’t feel unwell, but it was just like a big weight dragging me down all the time.

In the 3rd week of December, I had another ultrasound and then met with a new to me doctor, I’ll call her Dr. S. I had been going along with all the additional bloodwork, but I was starting to push back on why it was necessary.

It was a Friday afternoon when Dr. S met with me and said: We think that you have an ectopic pregnancy. I didn’t know, but I would soon learn that this was a pregnancy that was not in the right place, would not grow, but could rupture and kill me. She recommended surgery to address it.

Okay, I said. I had the next week off, so I assumed it would be either that week, or in January while I was funemployed (but still had my good health insurance).

I was thinking this weekend, said Dr. S.

So it was that I went to a Friday doctor’s appointment and found myself signing into surgery on Saturday morning.

It was my first ever surgery with anesthesia, and everyone took great care of me, but it was still EXTREMELY disconcerting. I had laparoscopic surgery so I only have 2 teeny scars, but I was in a lot of pain and confused when I woke up.

Work was closed all week, so I basically spent the whole week sitting in 1 chair in my apartment either watching movies or reading. I didn’t want to get into all the details with people, because a) 2020 was already so… 2020, b) I was still nominally job-hunting and I didn’t want to give anyone a dumb surface reason not to hire me or make them think I was a pregnancy flight risk (I love being a woman of a certain age!), c) I just didn’t want to talk about it. On the other hand, almost no one at work checked on me. I found their treatment very cold, again.

In January I put myself together for my last week at work, we had the runoff elections, we had the coup. I had my surgery follow-up where it was confirmed that it was an ectopic pregnancy. That was my January: medical follow-ups, but at least I don’t have to schedule them around the job I no longer have!  

WHEW. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for hearing me. I have since gotten a new job working on communications for politics, but also nonprofits and city agencies. My stress has been cut by probably 70 percent. In my job I’m doing a lot more writing, which is probably what enabled me to write this long overdue update with most of everything in it.

We are starting to explore our fertility options. I had a doctor that really catastrophized me in terms of how intense we need to go about it, but likely we will start slowly and see how it goes. They still don’t know why I had an ectopic (and probably won’t figure out), but I am at higher risk of having another one, so any potential pregnancy will involve a lot of testing and monitoring. That’s why we haven’t “started” “trying” again, because there are tests and there is my new job and so on. I had a hysterosalpingogram, which you should definitely Google if you’re not squeamish. (It didn’t hurt but it was totally weird!)

I am better, but I’m not OK. I’m still mad about everything that happened to me. There are moments when I get catapulted back to my surgery and everything, and I completely freeze. I just got my doctors’ records from November and December (which I had to pay $35 for!!! MY OWN RECORDS) and even though I didn’t learn anything new from reading those records, I still had a lot of emotional trouble processing what happened. It’s weird that so many of them start by noting that the patient was “not in acute distress.” Must be an automatic fill-in because that doesn’t match what I was feeling ever!!!

Dr. S literally saved my life and I think what was not clear to me at the time, because I was still mourning what could have been, is that I am still here. I am more than everything that happened to me. 

I am looking for a new therapist and I am trying to look on the bright side. Unfortunately, one of my oldest friends in the world endured a similar health issue back in January; fortunately, we are each other’s best comfort because I know she won’t judge me. This summer may bring good news on this front or maybe not, but at least vaccinated we can do more than we have been able to do (picnics in the park! Visits to family!) I have to believe my luck is turning. It’s how I get by.

[imagine-loki]

Helmet Heists

TITLE: Helmet heists

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine “borrowing” Loki’s helmet to wear for a full day on a dare. The inside is unbelievably sweaty, and you can’t tell if the extra goo is hair gel or mousse, but a dare is a dare.

Loki walks up to see his helmet wobbling precariously on your head. “(Name), what are you doing?”

“Hunting bilgesnipe,” you retort. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I’ve been on a kick of writing these one-shots as snapshots in the friendship of Loki and Becca because, why not? Tonight I felt like he needed a friend, so I made a funny, fluffy, friendly fic. Some language, dubious timelines (who even cares, honestly?) and Loki I-don’t-know-how-to-make-friends Odinson moments.

=

“Come on, Becks! You took the dare and now you have to deliver,” Sam teased. He was sitting on the benchtop of one of her lab tables, being a general nuisance. As always. Though she loved the man (and his absurd confidence), he had the uncanny ability of getting on her nerves (probably also because of his absurd confidence). At least he was a handy and willing test subject for her new inventions, as well as a decent ’here, hold this’ assistant.

Beside him, Rebecca was bent over a small circuit board and motor, adjusting the tension of some screws with the same precision a heart surgeon would pay to open-heart surgery. Behind her darkened UV goggles, she rolled her eyes, though he could not see. She had a feeling he could feel her expression. “Absolutely not, Sam.”

“The forfeit is much worse and you know it.”

“The forfeit won’t get me a dagger through the heart.” She paused, blowing the fringe out of her face and tilting up just enough to look at him. “Actually, that might not be true. He might stab me, either way. 

This was ridiculous. Why had she even agreed to this stupid dare? Oh, right. She had been drunk as all hell when the challenge had been proposed. They had all been drunk, to be fair, but they seemingly had the fortitude of mind to remind her of this little adventure once the hangover had subsided.

Stupid superheroes and their stupid alcohol tolerance!

Sam snorted, lifting a single eyebrow at her. "Not with a dagger, he wouldn’t.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to make her groan. “Come on, not even Prince Sourpuss could resist you a cutie like you laying one on him.”

“One, you’re disgusting, Sam. Two, I’m pretty sure kissing someone out of the blue is assault and I doubt he’d enjoy it.” Becca pushed him until he scooted down the line. “Three, you’re in my workspace. Please get lost.”

“Not before you get that helmet.”

The automatic doors hissed open, making them both look up. Tony was striding in with a grin on his face. He either had very good or very bad intentions. “Where’s the helmet, Buttercup?”

“Please, no,” she groaned. Of course, he would be here to pester her, too. Becca fought the urge to throw something in Tony’s direction–it had been he who set the dare.

“You took the dare! It’s the law!” He grimaced playfully. “And I’m morbidly curious as to whether or not he would try to kill the only person he tolerates in the tower as revenge. Think of it as research.”

The doors hissed open again. “Lady Becca, do you need assistance procuring my brother’s helmet?”

“For fuck’s sake! I am trying to work! You know, the stuff you pay me to do,” she jabbed a finger in Tony’s direction, “and y'all need me to do to survive on missions?” She gestured the other two with a frown.

Bruce rushed into the lab, glancing over his shoulder every couple of steps. “I think Loki just went to the gym, if you want to go grab the stuff.”

Becca’s mouth set into a grim line. All the faces looking down at her were clearly ecstatic to see how this dare would play out. If she didn’t know any better she would say they didn’t much care for her to continue breathing. When the expectant looks turned pleading, she rolled her eyes, pulling off the black nitrile gloves she had been wearing and tossing them into the bin beside the bench. Her goggles met the lab bench a second later.

Throwing open a drawer, she fished out a metal vambrace, a hybrid between Tony’s plasma-shooting gauntlets and Peter’s webshooters. Slipping it over her right hand, she flexed her fingers experimentally, enjoying the crackle of static that came from her fingers at he action. If she was walking into the lion’s den, she definitely wasn’t doing it without some sort of protection.

“Keep Loki in the gym. I’ll be in and out in twenty.”

Thor grinned huge, nodding enthusiastically before following her out into the hallways. While he turned towards the gym, she turned up to the emergency staircase. She took the stairs by pairs and allowed herself a second to catch her breath at the landing. Quietly, she sneaked towards the back of the east wing, hyperaware of all the noises around her.

It wasn’t that she was scared of Loki, volatile and moody as he was, it was… no… that was a lie… she was scared. It was well justified fear. Becca had once witnessed Loki skewer three opponents with a single dagger after one of them ripped his leather armor. He was very particular about his things. And though she was on friendly terms with the man (as friendly as anyone could ever be with the surly demigod), she wouldn’t put a light stabbing past him for “borrowing” his stuff.

The door to his rooms was unlocked, strangely enough. No one ever came back here, save for Thor, so it made sense that Loki did not bother with security measures. The inside was impeccably organized–all right angles and open spaces. The only cramped area seemed to be the towering bookcases, packed to the brim with leather-bound tomes that looked well-loved. As much as Becca wished she could dilly-dally and peruse titles, the voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she only had so much time before she had to disappear from the premises.

Slipping towards the bedroom, she stepped towards the old-fashioned wardrobe. Opening the dark wood door, she spied the helmet resting on its own shelf a little above her eye line. Reaching up, she pulled it from its resting place, letting a startled huff leave her lips as the unexpected weight pulled her arms down.

“How the hell does he even keep this on his head?” She wondered aloud, testing the heft of the golden horns with a frown.

Turning the helmet over, she peaked inside, pulling a face instantly. She should have expected–it was a piece of battle armor, after all. But as clean as he kept his room, she would have thought he cared equally for his armor. On the inside of the golden horns there were smudges and glistening patches of salt from dried sweat. A mysterious thick substance lingered at the very bottom. Was it gel? Was it oil? Something else entirely? She shuddered to think its true composition. A good wipe down was key before attempting to put the helmet anywhere near her face.

The lab was all abuzz as Becca stepped back inside, helmet bobbing at her side as she held it by a horn. Tony whooped at the sight, strangely ecstatic about the fact that she was to have the horns on all day. She worried she might need a neck brace when she was done.

Sitting at her bench, she pulled a microfiber towel and the same cleaning solution she used for delicate electronics. If anything went wrong with the helmet, she was sure that she’d be murdered. A cursory wipe pulled out grime and gunk that made her (and Sam, who still had not gotten lost) gag. The cleaning solution went on and when she wiped everything away, the inside of the helmet gleamed and glistened under the bright lab lights.

“Put it on. Put it on! PUT IT ON!” Sam chanted, Bruce and Tony followed suit a moment later. Even FRIDAY overhead joined in on the childish taunting until Becca groaned, acquiescing. All she had to do was stay in the lab and finish her work. The day would be over before she knew it and she could return the helm before it was missed.

The horns were a lot more comfortable than she would have thought, for an all-metal hat. It was easy to notice the difference in size between herself and Loki, as the horns would slide back over her head whenever she moved. The garment was also incredibly heavy, to the point that she could feel herself actively straining to keep her neck from snapping to whatever direction the helmet was slipping in.

“OK, there. Are you guys happy now? Can I keep working?” Becca asked, glaring.  Her hands plucked another pair of gloves from the box, but they were quickly swiped from her hands.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re on the testing floor today,” Tony said, smiling.

So this was his grand idea–getting his weapons tech murdered.

“That is a hard pass. I can barely hold my head up as it is, and–”

“Testing floor. Now. That is an order.”

Becca snorted, stealing her gloves back and hunching over her workspace. “Tony, I’ve never followed your orders before. Why would I start now?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking eerily confident in himself. “Because I have hidden your Mark III for the proton gun on the testing floor and sent Peter to guard it.”

Her head snapped up and a muscle in her neck seized, making her groan while she massaged it. “You wouldn’t dare.” He simply pulled out a StarkPad and pulled the video feed of the testing floor. Becca stood up so quickly her chair toppled over. The group followed her as she ran past the lab doors and towards the testing floor.

Most of the techs had stopped tittering every time she walked past them in the insane headwear. At the very least, they had stopped throwing objects to catch on the horns, as if it were a bizarre game of horseshoes. A well-placed glare–a rare occurrence of the tech geek–had taken care of that rather quick. Becca had to admit, though, the extra height the helmet gifted her made her feel much more confident than she was. Her posture was better (though that had a lot to do with the fact that her neck was likely to break if she wasn’t ramrod straight); her speech, more formal. Thor had even remarked that she had adopted some of the mannerisms his brother often displayed.

She was sitting on a stool, adjusting some of Thor’s new smart bracelets when the room went deathly silent. Even Thor, who had been standing patiently while she turned him this way and that, stilled suddenly.

The hair on the back of Becca’s neck stood on end and she did not have to turn around to know that it was Loki currently staring daggers at her. Her hand grasped a horn to still the helmet as she tilted her head, trying to will Loki out of the room just by virtue of her thoughts.

“Rebecca, what are you doing?” The dark, smooth voice was deceptively nonchalant. Her whole arms erupted in goosebumps at the question. Oh, she was dead.

Turning her head slightly, she caught his form over her shoulder. He was dressed casually (well, casual for him), trousers and a sweater, one hand in his pocket–generally looking easy–despite the pointed intensity of his eyes.

“Hunting bilgesnipe,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” When she faced Thor again, he was staring back in wide-eyed panic and the feeling of dread settled in her stomach like a rock.

“I beg your pardon?” The phrase sounded a lot more like ’what the fuck did you just say?’, in her opinion.

The dare entailed for her to act like there was nothing amiss, should she be discovered by Loki during her day wearing the helmet. Right about now, she thought the idea was the stupidest thing she had ever agreed to.

“I’m just helping Thor with some gear.” Somewhere in the background Peter was chanting ’oh no’ over and over. “Is there something you need?”

A long stretch of silence followed the question. In her head, Becca supposed he was wondering whether to murder her now, in front of all these people, or later, in her apartment. She had not just stolen something of his, but she was being sassy and contrary–

He chuckled. “I suppose my business can wait. I’ll sit with the Spiderboy while you finish.”

“OK. Sounds good,” she replied, though her voice choked half-way through. She mouthed ’he’s going to kill me at Thor’, swiping her index finger over her neck to drive the point home. Thor merely blinked back at his brother, confused.

Becca procrastinated as long as it was physically possible. She had gone over the same specs so many times, that she could predict the radiation readings for every type of spark Thor could make. The god of Thunder smiled wryly, trying to be encouraging as he stepped away. He patted her shoulder, giving a light squeeze before leaving her workstation. The sensation of being watched surged, once more, and Loki had taken Thor’s place before her.

Glancing upwards, she offered him a shy smile in hopes of some sort of emotion breaking through his poker face. “What’s on your mind, Loki?”

He fought against a smile as he sat across from her, tossing his Stark mobile phone at her. “Seems to have frozen again. Do you mind taking a look?”

Becca tutted under her breath, swiping through the root directory, happy to be focusing on absolutely anything else. “I keep telling Tony his software doesn’t do well with your seidr, but he keeps not listening.” She had to react quickly to the horns slipping forward.

Balancing it back in a somewhat comfortable position, she continued to tinker away. When she shifted, her instinct was to guard the helmet, again, but found that where it had been too big and burdensome a moment before, it was now resting comfortably and snug on her head. Her blood ran cold and her fingers stilled.

“Anything the matter?” There was a laugh in his voice now and it was somehow worse than if he were mad. He had not been titled the God of Mischief for being a dear.

“No. Just thinking,” she fibbed, though she knew it was useless.

“Did you get a haircut?” When she cut her eyes up, he was resting his chin on his open palm, elbow propped on the table. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “No? There’s something different about you, I just can’t put my finger on it.” He brushed the fingers of his free hand over the sleeve of her t-shirt. “New top?”

“Er… nope. Nothing different. Nothing at all,” she squeaked. There was a lingering sensation to his touch, a strange tingle. Her fingers challenged themselves to a speed-run of rebooting his phone. The sooner he had no reason to be around her, the better it would be. He already knew she had stolen his helmet, which was the point of the dare. She would go straight up to his room after work and grovel for forgiveness, if needed. Cell phone restarted, she handed it back to him with a tight-lipped smile. “There we go. Ready to roll.”

Loki grinned, taking back the phone. “Thank you very much, Rebecca. You’re possibly the only good and true mortal in this prison!.” He rose from his seat, only to turn back about ten paces later. “Oh, darn. It seems to have gone again.” When she focused on his hands, there was a green glow over the screen.

“Oh, fucking hell,” she growled out through clenched teeth.

“Is there a problem, dear?”

She took a deep breath to relax and forced a smile. “Not at all, Loki.”

Becca reached for the phone, only to let out a yelp when he closed his fingers around her wrist. “New necklace. That’s it, isn’t it?” He was enjoying this game far too much.

“Why? Just… why?” She cried, pitifully, her meaning obvious. Loki merely shrugged and chuckled, releasing her hand from his grasp and assuming his original position. She set back to the task of rebooting his phone. Halfway through, she stopped, tilting her head curiously, recalling the glow a moment prior. “Does your phone crash a lot?”

“Every now and again,” he responded carefully. “As you said, Stark does not listen to recommendations.”

It was true, Becca had mentioned several times how Loki’s phone would inexplicably freeze while he was using it. Tony had assured her that there was nothing interfering with the phone, other than Loki wanting to be a bother. She also knew that he had not been at their evening of pizza and beer the night before, claiming to have better things to do.

She resumed her work, moving her fingers steadily over the holographic screen. “Do you like to read? I keep looking for book trade buddies, but they are in short supply on Stark tower.”

The turn in conversation took him aback. “Oh, er, well… yes.”

“Cool! I have lots of history and historic fiction–it seems your style. I also have a good mystery and fantasy collection, if that’s more your thing.” She returned the phone with a smile. “I can bring some over tonight, if you want. Ooh, and Chinese food. We can make an evening of it.”

He gave a confused nod before floating away, glancing over his shoulder every so often, stopping to explain the situation in his head, and continue on.

At the back of the testing floor, Tony and Bruce looked dejected while Peter just looked relieved. They had expected significantly more shouting and flying knives from the encounter. Becca half-thought that they just wanted an excuse to pick on Loki, despite the fact he had been behaving recently. She offered a smug grin before finishing her work and heading out.

Loaded up with cartons of Chinese food and books, horns still on her head (the delivery guy had nearly died at the sight), Becca knocked on Loki’s door. He answered promptly a moment later, somewhat hesitant. She placed the books on the counter, and unpacked the food as Loki hovered anxiously out of the corner of her eye.

“I won’t bite, I promise,” she teased. Loki reluctantly came nearer the table and pulled a seat. “Oh, one last thing.” With a quick tug, she removed the horns from her head. She massaged her head and attempted to tame her hair in one motion. “I think these are yours. I must have taken them by mistake. I swear, I have the same exact pair!”

Loki laughed easily, shaking his head. “I’m sure you do. Did you win, at the very least?”

“I did. Banner was too chicken to streak down Fifth Ave.” She grabbed an eggroll and took a bite. “You should join us next time.”

He made a noise of derision. “Then how will I know what you look like in my armor?” His sarcasm flowed easily, though Becca was aware of the implication of his statement. Who would they make fun of if he showed up?

Becca smirked, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I can go put it on right now, if that’s what you want.” They both laughed at the absurdity,. “It’s OK if you don’t want to, but it’d be nice. I’d appreciate a friend there.” She held out the helm with a warm smile, eagerly diving into a box of chicken when relieved of the armor.

Loki grabbed his helmet and hefted it easily. “I’ll think about it.” He frowned. “Did you clean my helmet?”

“Of course I did, dude. That thing was nasty!” She giggled, throwing a piece of carrot at him when he scowled at her. He retaliated with a noodle. She threw an eggroll. He donned his helmet, grabbed a carton of chow mein and gave chase, laughing freely.

Tony watched as his weapons tech dashed across the hallway, her track and field training giving her a slight advantage against the long-legged Asgardian who cackled as he followed a second later. He closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe the dare had been a bad idea.

[rayadraws]

So I was listening to mr lover man by Ricky Montgomery (AMAZING SONG) and I thought omg, what if Genos got hurt so badly that he had to stay a year with kuseno to get repairs. Of course Saitama could visit, but couldn’t take Genos home, not even for holidays. And poor pining Saitama is all depressed and Genos hates himself for getting hurt and AAA the angst~

Hhhhhhhh

Tags: hurt/comfort, mild angst with happy ending, established relationship, G-rated

Genos had had several close calls. It wasn’t always easy to tell, ’cause the guy would do everything to hide it, like a sick animal pretending it was feeling fine. And it was hard sometimes to even tell what was serious when it came to him - losing an arm or a leg or both was annoying, but not life threatening in the least, like it would be for a regular person.

There was no denying it this time, though. When Saitama found him in the rubble, he felt his stomach drop. The image haunted him even days after. He didn’t even dare pick Genos up from where he laid, he was scared of making it worse, with all those... bits exposed. He just guarded him until the drones arrived and then he went home, unable to eat or read or do anything, so he went to bed at 8 pm and tried desperately to forget this day had even happened.

The phone didn’t ring until almost a full day later and when Saitama picked it up, it wasn’t Genos on the other end but his doc. Saitama had never heard him sound so grim before.

”How is he? Itching to get back up yet?”

”Saitama-kun, are you sitting down?”

It was bad. Really bad.

Kuseno had a bunch of complicated terms for it, but from what Saitama gathered basically the connection between Genos’ brain and his body had been severed, which was really dangerous, for obvious reasons. There was a risk of brain damage, but there was also apparently a risk that his brain wouldn’t correct right to his cyborg body again, or any cyborg body, if those connection points had been too badly damaged. Which would be really, really bad. Brain damage would be kinder. Without a body, there would barely be any life left for Genos, he’d be little more than a brain in a jar.

The doctor kept him in a medically induced coma for what felt like forever. At least Genos didn’t have muscles that would atrophy from lack of use in the meantime.

When he finally woke up again, they had no idea what to expect. Kuseno had warned Saitama that Genos probably wouldn’t move or say much, if anything at all. He’d been put in a new body, one that was set up more for people undergoing full body modification surgery for the first time - kinda like a bubble-wrapped edition. No weapons, no fancy scanners - as little as possible for a badly jostled brain to deal with. Just enough to be a person.

”Hey, bud, how are you feeling?”

Genos just looked at him, not moving as much as a muscle. His face looked the same as before... all this. His hair might have been a bit shorter, Saitama thought. Easier to care for while he recovered. And of course, all the cables and wires connected at the back of his neck, so thick they almost formed a pillow under his head where he laid on the table, covered only with a thin blanket.

Genos could be stoic, but he rarely tried to hide his feelings around Saitama. It was unnerving to see him so still. Saitama couldn’t even tell if he recognized him or not.

Kuseno clapped Saitama’s shoulder as he made his way towards the exit later, but he couldn’t make any hopeful promises.

The next time Saitama came to visit, things were better, thank goodness. Genos could move now, a little bit. Mostly his facial muscles, but enough that Saitama could tell he was happy to see him. Over a month since the accident had already passed at this point, so he was happy to finally see some improvement.

The third visit, Genos was in a foul mood already by the time Saitama arrived. That was unlike him (at least around Saitama). Kuseno explained he was upset because of how long his recovery was predicted to take, which he’d just been informed of.

A year.

If they were lucky.

No monster fighting. No shopping. No tracking the mad cyborg. Genos was going to be stuck in the lab for months and months, watching the world go on without him while he struggled to even move his toes.

Genos could be stoic. He wasn’t that day. Nor was he raging, though. He couldn’t control his body enough to be. The tears flowed quietly as Saitama held his head in his lap and tried to tell him that it would be okay. That his stuff would be waiting for him until he was ready. Saitama too. And he’d visit, as often as he could and Genos wanted him to. He’d bring him his favourite stuff, his notebooks and the chocolate he had hid among the frozen peas back home. The stupid plushie version of himself that Saitama suspected Genos had commissioned someone to make for him. By the fourth visit, all the things he’d brought last time were lined up so Genos could look at them whenever he wanted. He looked pleased at that, at least.

He still wasn’t speaking, couldn’t move anything below the neck. Didn’t even have his own room - lab wasn’t set up like that - but they’d made this one corner all his. Kuseno had pulled down a TV, a radio, audiobooks. A potted plant, though Saitama had no idea what kind it was. At least it added a bit of life. This portion of the lab didn’t have windows, so the doc had hung up a poster of a forest instead. It was as nice as you could make such a place. And in the middle of it all laid Genos, propped up like a grumpy-looking doll, probably wishing he was anywhere else.

About four months in, he started to talk again, which was nice, though it was hard to understand what he was trying to say most of the time. At first it was mostly grunts and sighs, he struggled to form actual words. But at least he could point and make gestures now, if you gave him time, so he could point at what he wanted. He couldn’t write yet, but he could flip the TV channels and change the radio station, giving him at least that little bit of control of his life. And he could eat and drink again, even if he spilled a lot. Must be nice though, to be able to finally do some stuff on his own at least. Saitama couldn’t imagine how bored and frustrated he must be, he was normally so active.

They celebrated Christmas down in the lab that year. Saitama had asked Kuseno if he couldn’t at least take Genos to the nearest town, just for a couple hours, but doc said it was essential Genos was hooked up to all those cables 24/7. Poor guy. But they had cake together and Genos even managed to murmur a ’murry chrysmaz’, which was both sad and cute.

Saitama got him gifts too, a book about space that looked cool and a Gudetama plushie and a hoodie that was really warm and soft. Genos gestured that he wanted to wear it immediately, so Saitama helped him out of the Qseno Tech one and pulled the hoodie over his head.

It contrasted nicely with his arms, which Saitama told him. These arms weren’t polished grey or black like most of Genos’ designs, but white with black accents. They looked so... peaceful, by comparison. Didn’t even have blasters, just soft pads for grip, almost like pawpads. Genos sat completely still as he let Saitama feel his hand over, interlacing their fingers.

Without warning, Saitama felt his eyes starting to burn. He took a deep breath, trying to will it away, but that only made it worse. He looked away, until he felt Genos’ fingers squeezing his.

”Shen...shei.”

He broke down.

It was Genos’ turn to comfort Saitama, which felt wrong, but he was so good at it. He held Saitama in his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder, until he got it all out, which took forever.

”It’s not the same without you there. It’s so lonely...”

”Clean-n?”

”If I’ve... kept it tidy?”

”Yus.”

”Uhh...”

”Shenshei!”

When Saitama dared meet Genos’ eyes, he was giving him that disapproving stare that he knew well from when he was slacking off.

”I’ll make sure the place is spotless when you return home.”

”Goo. Call Kin.”

”I guess I can invite King over.”

”Foobooki. Ban. Moomen.”

”Fine, I do have friends.”

Genos reached up to wipe a tear off his cheek. ”Yus.”

-

Inviting people over meant he had to tidy up. It was a lot and he completely misjudged how long it would take. He was only halfway done when King showed up and he tried to apologize, but King didn’t say much, just helped him with the rest. They got pizza and played video games and it was almost like normal. Apartment looked a lot less glum now, too. Wouldn’t need to be embarrassed when Genos got back home. If he could keep it up for another six months.

”I’d come earlier, if you’d only let me in, Saitama.”

”Yeah, I know.”

”You’re welcome to visit me too.”

”Yeah yeah.”

They played in silence for a while.

”You wanna talk about it?”

”It’s lonely without him.”

”Yeah. But he’s doing better, right?”

”Yeah. He can sit up now.”

”Is it taking that long to fix his body?”

”S’not his body, it’s his brain.”

”Oh.”

They went back to being quiet. After Saitama’s character had gotten his ass kicked half a dozen times, he told King to go home. He was hesitant, asking Saitama twice if he’d be okay. He promised he would be. Besides, Fubuki was coming over the next day. They were going to sort the mountains of get well-letters Genos’ fans had sent him after word finally got out that Demon Cyborg was on extended sick leave. He’d asked them to keep that stuff at the HA, but apparently they had had enough of that and were going to dump the boxes at the apartment the next morning. Saitama didn’t look forward to it.

Fubuki showed up looking very casual, for being her. Saitama wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her in pants before, nevermind sweats, even if they were brand name. She brought food too, fruit and bread and stuff like that. But she didn’t ask any stupid questions, just shook her head at the stack of boxes of fanmail.

”We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

”Yup.”

”If you’d started months ago, it wouldn’t be this much work now.”

”Yup.”

Still, it wasn’t that bad once they got started. Most of the stuff they threw away, but they kept the treats and a few of the plushies. Saitama helped himself to one box of chocolate, but put the rest aside for Genos. Some kids had sent in drawings and those they kept too. They ate while they worked, taking care to not stain the letters.

”This one’s for you,” Fubuki said suddenly.

”Hate mail again.”

”No, nothing like that.”

”...”

”Listen. ’I read about Demon Cyborg and they say you’ve been seen walking alone in City Z. It breaks me heart to think of you being separated, you seem so close in all the photos. Please know that both of you are in our hearts. Best wishes.”

”Oh, well, that’s new.”

”We’ve all been worried, you know. For both of you.”

Saitama fiddled with the letter in his hands. ”It’s been rough. But it will be okay.”

Before he had the chance to stop her, Fubuki engulfed him in a hug.

-

He’d warned Genos that he was bringing him fan stuff today. Kuseno had encouraged Genos to read some of the letters, but he didn’t show much interest. They split the treats though and piled the plushies up on the least full shelf above the bed. The smallest one, a fuzzy cat, Saitama placed carefully on top of the potted plant. It was blooming, tiny delicate pink flowers.

”You know, I’ve never seen my cactus bloom, even after all these years,” Saitama remarked.

”Too bad,” Genos replied. His speech was getting clearer and clearer. He wasn’t chatting quite as much as he did… before all this, because it still required a fair deal of effort from him, but it was still a big improvement.

”Maybe I’ll bring cake, next time.”

”If you want.”

Genos didn’t remember his real birthdate. He didn’t remember much of the day his doctor found him either, but Kuseno did, of course. They’d picked that date as a stand-in birthday. They kept it simple, cause Genos didn’t like being surrounded by too many people and all, but they’d eat cake and Saitama always got him a little gift, usually slippers or oven mitts or something else that was practical. He’d waffled for like a week what to go for this time, especially with it being such a weird year and all. He still hadn't made up his mind .

Saitama took another letter from the pile and read it aloud. Reading vetted fanmail wasn’t so bad. They didn’t have to worry about weird or gross stuff, though Fubuki’s tolerance for allowing that had proven higher than Saitama’s.

”’In conclusion, get well soon’. That one was sweet, right?”

”I guess.”

”Oh come on, Demon Cyborg, with your ’hard exterior but fragile self within, so barely contained’.”

Genos snorted. It was like a balm, seeing him slowly return to his old self. That also meant he was getting increasingly restless, though. He’d already left his bed three times, now that Kuseno let him go without all the neck cables, once dutifully during physical therapy while supervised, twice at night when neither Saitama nor Kuseno were there to reel him in. The first of those times he didn’t get far, didn’t even leave the room, but the second he fell down a flight of stairs.

Thank goodness for his exceptionally hard head, or they might have had to put a helmet on him.

Saitama got it, though. Genos hadn’t like, lost any intelligence, or forgotten more stuff than, well, he already had. He still had his goals and interests and all that. And his body was still state of the art and ready to rock. The problem was getting the two - his brain and his body - to work together again. It was all way too complicated for Saitama, even when the doc tried to dumb it down for him, but at least Genos was going in the right direction.

The day came when Kuseno said it was okay for Genos to leave the lab for a few hours. They made a birthday date out of it, since they hadn’t had a proper date in nearly a year and his stand-in birthday was so close. It was hard to be left alone, though. People kept pointing and whispering and Genos didn’t want to deal with any of that. In the end, they bought tea and fancy cupcakes to go and then clambered into the nearest woods. Saitama had a bench or something in mind, or even just finding a nice patch of grass, but Genos had other plans.

”No, stop that.”

No response.

”Oi! Don’t!”

”Don’t worry, Sensei.”

He kept going higher. Into the damned tree.

”Genos! If you fall down your old man’s gonna skin me alive!”

”I will not fall.”

The next branch creaked worryingly under Genos’ weight, but he kept going. Slowly, but with great determination. What had gotten into the guy’s head?

There was nothing for it, then. With a great sigh, Saitama put the paper bag to his mouth, grabbing the edge with his teeth so he’d have his hands free. Branch by branch, he followed Genos up the tree.

About ten metres up, the stem of the tree split into two, leaving enough room for the two of them. With an exaggerated show of pretend-annoyance, Saitama made himself comfortable, placing the bag between them. Peering inside, he was pleased to note he hadn’t spilled anything. He looked up again. Genos was sitting with his eyes closed, hair moving in the breeze. He looked like an animal that had been released into the wild after a life of captivity. Maybe you wouldn’t think so looking at him, but Saitama knew Genos much preferred this environment to a busy city.

”Are you happy now, nature boy?” He nudged his companion in the side and handed him his paper cup. It couldn’t be more than lukewarm at this point, but his tea smelled real nice when Genos took off the lid to drink.

”Very pleased,” he all but purred.

”Can’t blame you, I guess.” And then, after a brief pause, ”I’m glad to see it. I’m glad you’re okay. You scared us, you know.”

”I know. I was scared too. And frustrated.”

”Don’t blame you.”

They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t need to. They said the rest through their actions, the held hands, the lingering gazes. The kiss, tasting of tea and pastries.

Saitama had no idea when he woke up that morning that he’d spend his afternoon kissing in a tree, but he had no complaints. Not until it was time to get down, anyway.

”We can jump.”

”Kuseno made me promise I’d return you without as much as a scratch and you already have a patch of mud on your shoulder. We’re not taking chances.”

”It will be fine.”

Somehow, it had escaped Saitama’s mind how goddamn stubborn his boyfriend was.

”How about I hold you and we jump together.”

”Sensei…”

”It’ll be like, romantic.”

”...Alright.”

Fortunately, Saitama hadn’t forgotten how much of a sap he could be.

It was a mess to stand up in the tree, nevermind getting into position, but eventually they figured it out. Genos grabbed Saitama’s shoulders and latched on, piggyback style, making sure to hold on to the bag as well, so it could be recycled back in town. Like that, they jumped down, and then continued. Apparently Genos couldn’t walk, now. Or rather, he’d decided he didn’t want to, that latching on to Saitama like a koala was better. Give that guy an inch…

When they got back inside the lab, Kuseno instantly looked worried upon seeing Genos being carried, but Saitama assured him that he was fine. He didn’t mention the tree climbing.

He was tempted to stay the night, but Genos was already really tired from the day out. Tussling his hair, he gave him a peck on the forehead and said his goodbyes, promising to be back soon.

That turned out to not be the case, but only because Genos was allowed to go home first. He called Saitama two days later, letting him know he’d be home soon. He sounded so happy, like an excited puppy. He just wanted to stop on the way and shop some stuff, so they could have a nice meal together once he was back.

Saitama never fury-cleaned the apartment with as much intensity as he did that morning.

And then, Genos stood there, wearing that baggy Qseno Tech hoodie and shining like the sun itself. He’d still need frequent checkups for a while and no monster fights for another month, at least, but he was back.

He was back.

”Welcome home,” Saitama smiled at him.

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XXXV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist    Prev. | Part 35

Word-count: 2.9k+

A/N: so it’s a little short but we’re building to some important stuff!! hope you like it

Stiles Stilinski inherited many things from his father, one of which being his love of a good surface to map out his thoughts and clues. Stiles used the clear dry-erase board in his room; Noah used the cork board in his office at the police station. It currently sported a few pages from police reports and photos of Tracy and Lucas. 

“Chimeras,” Noah said. 

“Two dead chimeras,” Stiles said. “Plus eight new ones. So, ten in all.” 

“I’m thinking maybe eleven,” Noah said, pinning a new photo to his current array. A photo of Donovan. 

Stiles' heart rate spiked and you gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Our station tech guys confirmed something for me,” Noah went on as he turned around to face you. “They said both the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic.” He picked up the book Malia and Kira found in Tracy’s room. “You said that, uh, that’s how these guys got into Eichen?” 

“So you think that makes Donovan one of their chimeras?” you asked. You walked towards Noah and the board to take any attention off Stiles. “But no one’s seen him since that night-” You picked up his red marker that he used to cross out Tracy’s photo “-so they probably killed him just like they killed Tracy.”

Noah caught your hand before you could cross out Donovan’s photo. “We don’t cross him out until I’ve seen a body,” he said. 

“Your board,” you said with a smile. You wanted to fix this but you weren’t sure how, so you settled for trying to get Stiles out of the precinct before he combusted. “Listen, we should probably get going if we’re going to make it to school before the first bell.”

“Of course,” Noah said with a smile. He turned and looked over at Stiles a few feet away; he was looking out the window, biting his nails, and with tense shoulders. “Hey, Stiles, you’re uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think about all this?” 

“Well, these are all teenagers, right?” Stiles said. He turned away from the window and let go of his hands. “So shouldn’t we be trying to figure out why these teenagers? If the Dread Doctors- if they went through all that … burying them, killing them, breaking one of them out of jail … They couldn’t have been chosen at random.”

“So they had to have something in common that made them right for this experiment,” Noah said. 

“Something that made them special,” Stiles said. He caught your eye and took a breath. 

“Well, uh, I’ve kept you kids long enough,” Noah said. “You should get going if you’re gonna make it to school on time.” 

“School,” you repeated, running a hand through your hair. “What a concept.” 

The school day dragged on once you and Stiles split up to go to your classes. The most exciting part of the day was when you tried to print a paper at the library and it was out of ink, and when you looked up you saw Kira slipping out with about a million copies in her arms. 

Those copies came in handy when all your friends gathered in your living room to read Valeck’s book about the Dread Doctors. 

“My mom’s book club usually has more wine,” Lydia said.

“Well, they also probably didn’t read books that cause violent hallucinations,” Stiles said. 

“I’m guessing that’s what the wine’s for,” you said, leaning down to pick up one of the copies. 

“Maybe I should have my mother read it,” Lydia said. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages. “She might remember a girl with a tail leaping off the ceiling and attacking everyone.”

“Yeah, if it works,” Stiles said. 

Lydia’s voice was much smaller when she spoke again. “It has to.”

“What do you mean, Lyd?” you asked, touching her arm lightly. 

She straightened back up and spoke clearly again. “I mean I think I saw them during my surgery. And when I look at the cover of the book … it’s almost like …” 

“A memory trying to surface,” Theo said. 

You still didn’t like having him around but Scott was insistent you trust him, at least for now, so he was here for book club. Even if no one wanted him here.

“Isn’t that what Valeck wanted when he wrote the book?” Kira asked. 

“If they did anything to me,” Lydia said. “I want to know what it is.”

Lydia stormed off, book in hand, to find a place to read while everyone else grabbed a copy off the coffee table. You touched Stiles’ lower back lightly to get his attention as he squinted at the title page and nodded at one of the nearby armchairs. 

The two of you settled in, your head resting on Stiles’ upper bicep and your legs tangled up over the coffee table. Every now and then, Stiles would reach up and run a hand through your hair in an attempt to keep himself focused. Your efforts, on the other hand, weren’t so valiant and you fell asleep somewhere around chapter ten. 

When you woke up again, Stiles coaxed you into helping him make coffee for everyone. You sat on the kitchen island as he worked, making each cup the way each friend preferred - it was sweet. The lack of words made things feel familiar and secret. 

And Theo strolled in. 

“Need any help with that?” he asked. 

“No, we’re, uh- we’re all good, man,” Stiles said, nodding at him over his shoulder. 

Theo nodded and reached his hand out. He said something about understanding and then patted the top of Stiles’ shoulder twice, a bit roughly, before you had the chance to intervene. “Woah, you okay, dude?” he asked when Stiles tensed and muffled a groan. 

“Yeah, I just pulled a muscle,” Stiles lied easily. His heart didn’t falter for a second. “You know how it is with the back-to-school rush.” 

“Right,” Theo said, drawing out the word. It was clear he didn’t believe him but he dropped it, opting to talk to you instead. He turned to you with an attempt at a friendly smile. “So what do you think of the book?” 

“I think if it helps me find the people hurting my friends, then it’s worth it,” you said, sliding off the island and not breaking eye contact. “Because if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t let anyone hurt my friends.” 

Theo’s smile changed in a way that unsettled you. He dropped his eyes for a second before looking back up at you with a low laugh. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be one of your friends.” 

“Right,” you said. 

“Coffee’s up,” Stiles said, breaking through the tension. “Hey, Theo, if you wanna help, you can go get everyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Theo said, looking over to give Stiles a smile before heading out of the kitchen. 

Stiles turned to you and mouthed the words ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ and you gave him a noncommittal shrug that said you’d do better next time. He rolled his eyes and handed you a mug. “Just drink your coffee and don’t punch anyone,” he said. “Alright? Please.” 

“No promises,” you hummed over the rim of your mug. You took a sip of the coffee and relaxed slightly. “Okay, let’s finish that book.” 

---

School felt more like a dream the next day than anything else, especially with Stiles and Lydia going to the hospital to investigate her repressed memory. You were just going through the motions until someone rushed into your English class asking if anyone had an inhaler. The shock of it grounded you in the real world and you dug through your bag to get Scott’s old inhaler before running for it. 

“Scott?” You pushed through the crowd of students that formed around the door to the biology class. “Scott!” He was leaned up against the desk and wheezing but Scott turned his head to look at you. You dropped to your knees and pressed the inhaler into his hands and up to his lips. “Scotty, you gotta breathe, okay? On three I need you to take a big breath, you understand?” 

Scott nodded and you counted down. When he breathed in, you pressed down on the inhaler and hoped for the best. 

“There we go,” you said gently, pushing back some of the hair on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Well, you know what I mean.” 

“Where did you get an inhaler?” Scott asked, deep frown lines still on his forehead. “Wait, is this ... my inhaler?” 

“Someone had to keep it around when you started leaving it at home,” you said, sliding your hand up to his face while the other held onto his neck. It was an asthma attack, not the flu so you weren’t sure why you were checking for a fever but it made you feel better. 

“But I haven’t had an asthma attack in like two years,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, and today you did.” 

“Are you two okay here?” Ms. Finch asked. You looked over at her and forced a smile, hoping that it conveyed your desire to be left alone. “Okay, the rest of you, clear out!”

Even though Scott insisted he was fine, you didn’t want to leave him alone, and when the lights went out later in the day you rushed over to find him. You found him with Theo, both of them coming out of the stairwell that led to the basement. 

Scott explained how Theo came to check on him when the lights went out and they went down to the generator to investigate - the wires were ripped out by another chimera - and now they were trying to get a hold of Malia and Kira. 

“Hey, you okay?” you asked when you saw Malia coming down the stairs. 

“Yeah, we both are. Kira’s still at the library,” she said, nodding over at Theo and Scott. “Where’s the others?”

“Stiles and Lydia are still at the hospital trying to figure out what happened during her surgery,” you said, running your hand through your hair. You’d feel a lot better if they were with you. 

“How long are they gonna be there?” Malia asked. 

“They said they’re just waiting for the power to come back on,” Scott said. 

“Which is why we’re heading there now,” you finished as Theo pushed open the doors to the parking lot. You mumbled a thank you and pushed ahead to the car,

Turns out that wouldn’t be the last interaction you and Theo had; Scott’s plan was for him to find your mom, Malia to find Lydia, and you and Theo to find Stiles. He ignored your protests about splitting up but Theo grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the elevator. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, yanking your hand back to your body. 

“Can’t you smell that?” Theo asked. He took a breath when you stared at him. “Chemo-signals. Stiles’ chemo-signals, specifically. He was here and he was anxious.” 

“He’s always anxious,” you said quietly as Theo punched the button on the elevator. It bothered you that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

You got off at the same floor that Stiles did and followed the smell of his anxiety all the way to the roof. The last time you were up here was when the alpha pack was still terrorizing your friends - you never thought you’d miss that experience. But in that instant you couldn’t miss anything, you were too overwhelmed by the sight of one of the kids in your homeroom class trying to rip off Stiles’ face. 

“Josh?” 

Either Theo didn’t go through the same shock that you did or he just recovered faster. He rushed forward, pulled Josh off of Stiles, and then threw him across the roof. They started fighting amidst all the sparks from the ripped up generator but you didn’t pay any attention as you rushed to check on Stiles. 

“Hey, hey, you okay?” You held his face in yours but he was still staring at Theo and Josh. How many times were you going to find him delirious and covered in blood? “Stiles, can you hear me?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I-” Stiles blinked over your shoulder and looked back over at you. He lifted his hand to your face for a second before pointing over your shoulder. “I think you should go help him.” 

Sparks flew and you lunged over to cover Stiles. They burned your back but you’d heal. By the time it was over and you were back on your feet, Theo was holding onto Josh by the neck. He tore out his throat before you got a chance to stop him. Josh fell to the ground and choked on his blood. 

“Stiles …” Theo took a step forward and you pulled Stiles behind you. Theo looked hurt by the action. “You guys can’t say anything. Please- please, don’t say anything.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked, doing your best to maintain eye contact and not look at the body of your dying classmate. 

“Because I never said anything about Donovan,” Theo said. 

You let go of Stiles’ hand and marched closer, wrapping your other hand around Theo’s neck and pushing him back against the generator. Another mini-explosion of sparks went off as his body collided with the fence, but your hold on his neck didn’t falter. Stiles was right behind you, ducking slightly when the sparks flew but right behind you a second later.

“What did you just say?” you asked. 

Stiles called out your name and started to say something but he got cut off. He put a hand on your lower back, but he was still focused on Theo.

“I know what happened to Donovan,” Theo said. “I know everything.” 

“You don’t know anything,” Stiles told him.  

Theo started struggling under your hand but you gripped tighter, claws coming out to keep him in place. After a shallow laugh he looked over at Stiles. “I was there- at the library.” Stiles nodded at you and you loosened your grip ever so slightly. “Malia found the book. She was texting us to see where you guys were because she said she left the two of you at the library and she hadn’t heard from you since then. I told her I was close by. When I got there, I heard the scaffolding come down.”

Your blood ran cold. That was why she tried to call the other night. If you answered your phone, would you still be in this position now? Would Stiles?

“You saw him?” Stiles asked. 

“Just the body,” Theo said. Stiles rubbed your lower back, a signal to let go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Theo looked down at your hands for a second before continuing, “I watched you come out. I was gonna say something but then I saw the cop car.” He paused and looked down at where Stiles was holding onto you. “And then the body was gone.” Theo’s eyes drifted back to meet Stiles’. “I don’t know who took him. I only saw what you saw, and I didn’t say anything because you didn’t.” 

You looked over to see what Stiles was thinking but then you heard the sirens. The very familiar sirens of cruisers that belonged to the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department. 

“That’s not an ambulance, is it?” Theo asked. 

Stiles shook his head and started walking away. He needed the movement to think clearly. 

“We need to get out of here,” Theo said, moving against your grip. You pushed him back again and he held out his hands in surrender. 

“I’m not leaving Josh,” you said. 

“Fine, then let’s take him,” Theo said. Stiles spun around to face him. “Someone’s stealing the bodies anyway, right? Here’s our chance to find out who.”

“Stiles, I-” you shifted uncomfortably. “He’s got a point.”

“He killed him,” Stiles said, looking between you and Josh’s body. 

“In self-defense,” Theo said. He looked close to crying. But his heartbeat was steady under your hand. “He was going to kill you and he was going to kill me.” 

“You didn’t even wait for me-” 

“If we stay-” Theo talked over you “-We’re either going to have to tell the truth or we’re going to need a pretty convincing story. It’s your choice.” He looked down at the floor for a second. “I’m not going to ask you to lie to your dad.”

You tried to get Stiles’ attention without saying anything. It was time to come clean. He looked at you for a second but you could see he’d already made up his plan.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Stiles-” 

He walked over to Josh and was already pulling him up by his jacket. It was jarring to see your boyfriend picking up the dead body of the goofy kid in the back of the class. The blood that ran down his cheeks made you feel sick. 

“If you wanna leave-” Stiles was quieter when he spoke to you but he was still very clearly on edge “-I’m not gonna judge you.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Theo so that you could walk over and pick up Josh’s other side. You caught Stiles’ eye before saying, “I’m not going to leave you.” You hooked Josh’s arm around your shoulders and held him up by his waist.  

Theo took hold of Josh’s other side from Stiles. 

Whether you trusted him or not, you were in this together now.

Part 36

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you have any headcannons about other things Magnus invented? The tech ask got me thinking about how this man found a way to literally bend space-time to invent the portal so he probably made a bunch of other cool stuff

okay so first of all this ask is absolutely superior it’s so good and sexy and i love it to pieces. second of all, as with all my hc asks that i love to death, it took me so long to answer it, i’m so sorry odiajdoisajdoaisjj 

but anyway YES. i love genius inventor magnus and it’s criminally underdiscussed tbh

first of all, i absolutely believe that magnus figured out a way to transition himself, like - he probably knew about his gender ever since he was a kid, and it’s not like he had a lot of options, so i totally hc that he just. learnt about it on its own. i mean if we go by sh canon that says that magic is a way to perceive the world, it makes sense. he can use it to be more attuned to his own body and slowly learn about how it works. as time goes by he starts to notice the substances that his body produces, their effects on it, and on each other, you know? and that’s how he discovers hormones and how they’re made and how to manipulate them, and so Magnus makes up a way to magically transition like that, which is better than glamours (which is what most trans warlocks/downworlders did, at least before they’ve been officially introduced to the community) because he’s actually changing his body for real. and it’s nice

like, is magnus the first to do this? probably not. but he does figure it all out on his own way before he meets other warlocks and such, so it’s still something that he invented and figured out on his own. plus once he does he probably gets to study what other warlocks have figured out about the subject and make his own contributions to bring what he has and what they know together, and that’s pretty nice

i know i’ve talked about this before but consider this: i wanted to say it again

on that topic! more magical transitioning stuff. with most downworlders having some kind of super healing stuff (and i guess shadowhunters too, with iratzes) i’ve always thought, like, what if they wanted to have surgery after they were Turned? would it grow back? i mean there’s also the fact that they can’t exactly roll into the hospital with their super different blood and want to have surgery, but you know, there’s also that

so i totally think magnus also invented a way to bypass this, because even if it doesn’t directly affect him, he feels for all the trans people who do want surgeries and can’t get it. so he figures out a potion/spell he can use to keep the healing at bay enough to perform surgery, and then kind of like. messes slightly with the magic so it recognizes the new, altered body as the original and doesn’t try to “heal” the boobs/dick back (or yeet them away) once it’s done. and it’s pretty damn revolutionary

i don’t think magnus himself would want surgery because i think his gender is culturally specific anyway and he’s comfortable with his body most of the time, and when he isn’t, he can use glamours. but he still cared enough to do that because that’s how he is

similar but not completely related, i think that magnus and cat were both present during the AIDS crisis, because like, i mean. downworlders with a healing specialty who are queer or close to queer people. and it definitely was a very. bad chapter in their lives with all the horrible things they had to witness and how long it took them, even with magic, to figure out what was causing that horrible disease, but i do think their contributions (and those of other warlocks) were vital to the discovery of the HIV virus and the current methods we have to deal with it

even if magnus will never forgive himself for taking so long to think of something when so many people were dying and he couldn’t even save freddie haha it’s fine i’m fine

also i mean with his specialty being healing magic he probably was a part in learning about and dealing with a good number of diseases, and figured out a lot of potions and spells in that field

he probably designed something to help vampires who are dealing with human blood cravings, cuz i mean - it can get pretty bad and it brings a lot of suffering, and magnus seemed to be very aware of the whole addiction process and stuff in the downworld when there was the whole yin fen plotline. also well his own son battled it (twice) so of course he’d get involved. it’s not by any means a solution because addiction has multiple causes which are mostly psychological and you can’t really battle it without tackling these causes, but still, he can at least bring people who are struggling some kind of relief before they go to a specialist (cuz there are probably lots of downworlders who specialize in that, i mean. many of them faced it) 

oh also ways to detected newly Turned vamps and wolves so they can get to them fast and help them not go through it alone. i think he wouldn’t need it for warlocks because there’s that whole “i know dot is dead because i can’t feel her magic anymore” which implies that they know about every warlock individually so they would know when a warlock is born methinks. it’s also something that he’s tried to keep away from the clave as much as possible, for obvious reasons, but that can help them help out each other in times of need

(i just b like “here are all the ways that magnus helped improve the downworlder community” because 1- it’s canon and we stan; 2- it’s very him; 3- we deserved to see more of the downworlder community organization okay. like what, are they trying to tell us that they’ve all been watching each other suffer and go through these same problems and no one bothered to think of solutions for that? that makes no sense bro. people, especially marginalized people, want to make the world better for each other. in this essay i will-)

it’s also why Magnus is mostly known for the portal, because the clave and such don’t really consider his inventions “useful” because they’re mostly about improving life in the community, and not practical everyday shit like this. but he’s actually invented so much stuff and contributed so much to their society and knowledge okay

also something to cure allergies because he feels really bad for ppl who are allergic to cats lmao he’s the cutest idiot

probably quite a bit of magical sex toys because. well. hobbies. you know

okay that’s all i have methinks doiasjdoiajdsaoijdasj again thank you so much for this ask, i really loved answering it <3 i hope it was worth the wait lmao

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 Challenge Day 2 - Science

Summary: If you think about it, Shepard is really Cerberus’ fucked up little science project. If Frankenstein’s monster got to complain a little about conditions, then Miranda’s can whine she left some nonessential parts in. 

---

As much as he hated what Cerberus had done with the place... maybe the top floor being his wasn't so bad after all.

Alistair sighed as the door slid shut behind him. Up here, he was finally alone. Nobody was staring at him like he had two heads or was gaping at the fact he should have been 6 feet under or in a jar. Better yet, nobody was asking him how he was going to stop the Collectors from abducting another human colony or what the next move is. Here he could relax and breathe a little.

Breathing... right.

“Ugh...” His shirt dropped to the floor as he examined his appearance in the mirror. There were new bruises, not quite broken ribs. He had been lucky this time according to a bemused Doctor Chakwas. She had told him before to go in for the surgery, but he hadn't gotten the chance before dying. Now...

He prodded his binder in the mirror. “I still have no idea why she kept these. Don't see how having a flat chest would make me any worse.”

Something something, exactly as he was supposed to be? It was bullshit if you asked Alistair. Of course, nobody was asking him. They probably figured it was good enough that he was alive. Why bother dealing with worrying about it, Commander Shepard was alive again.

Commander Shepard was also risking broken ribs every mission, thank you very much. Maybe the magic science bullshit wizards should have considered that when they were putting him back together.

He let both the matter and his binder drop, though one took a bit more effort. After changing, it was back to an oversized hoodie as he settled in to get some work done. On the bright side, he could breathe. Downside... everything else.

Hi, gender dysphoria. Apparently you were crucial to saving humanity or something.

He lost himself to his work, reviewing records and checking on possible colonies, for the better part of an hour. Alistair would have stayed longer – there was plenty of reports to sift through – but someone was knocking at his door. Like, actually knocking and not using their omni-tool to let him know they were there.

So... that narrowed things.

“Be right there, Bo!” His new joints didn't creak as he rose, but there was plenty of time for that. Besides, he made up for that with the glowing exposed implants sticking out of his jaw and forehead. It wasn't a pretty sight – though it may have been improved if he could've hacked the color to blue. As a pink-toned ginger, red was kind of overkill. Besides, blue was his favorite color and they were his damn life sustaining implants. If anyone got to pick the color, it was him.

But... he wasn't allowed to try changing the color. Something about maybe killing him. He had kind of lost focus during that conversation.

Speaking of – the door slid open, revealing his XO on the other side. Bo looked about as comfortable on the new Normandy as he was, and she cast a wary eye around as she entered the room. Then she looked towards the floor, and where his clothing still lay. Her lip curled at the sight of her binder, and he swore he saw murder in her eyes.

“You gotta be kidding me, they didn't deal with that while you were dead?!”

Alistair, despite everything, emphatically groaned. “No, they fucking didn't! I'm pretty sure I've got everything that came with the original hardware!”

They both shared a scowl as Bo took a seat on his bed. As she did, she tossed him her omni-tool. Unsurprisingly, it was broken again. What did catch him off guard was that it was the same model she had been using before he died.

There had to have been easy models between 2183 and 85...

“You've made it idiot-proof, don't think too hard about it.” Bo was still scowling. “Remind me to punch Miranda for her weird little science experiment when I see her again. She spent all that time on you and she couldn't make a few modifications?”

Alistair rolled his eyes as he started to tinker with the omni-tool. “With pleasure. If she could add an eye, I don't see why she couldn't figure out testicles. They didn't even need to work, I don't plan on having children.”

His XO snickered at that. “Not that you could have kids with a turian anyway. Pretty sure even Mordin couldn't get levo and dextro to gel.”

The mere mention of turians caused Alistair's face to turn scarlet. He ducked his head in the excuse of examining the details on the broken omni-tool. The screen was cracked, but he had a replacement for that. Mostly, it just looked like she had knocked the wires loose – probably punched someone a little too hard. His reinforcements probably came loose over two years. Easy fix.

Maybe he should just design a whole new one for her...

“Thinking about Garrus, huh?”

There was a teasing tone to Bo's voice that made his cheeks even redder. Alistair shot her a blank look as he reached for a small device in his toolbox. Even after the Normandy exploded, it was good to know someone had salvaged it.

After all, what would he do without his trusty work vibrator?

“I can't believe you actually still use that.” Bo's tone was flat as she watched him apply the vibration to check for weak spots. “You're such a fucking nerd.”

Alistair snickered as he looked up from his work. “Given what I'm working with -”

“Gross. Please tell me you got another one of those.”

No, but it wasn't like he got a lot of private time given how often he had to fix something or save somebody from certain doom so it was kind of low on his list of priorities. Besides, being zombie Jesus in N7 armor made that kind of purchase... awkward.

Like, who expects the risen Commander Shepard to walk in looking for a vibrator anyway?

“I don't need one for actual use right now, thankfully.” He whistled low once he spotted the problem. “Wow, you sure knocked this one loose. Another centimeter and the whole thing would have been a total loss.”

Bo sighed in relief. “Good thing I didn't hit that one krogan twice then.”

Of course she'd hit a krogan. She was always doing that.

“Next time, just use your biotics.” Alistair shook his head as he started the repairs. Honestly, it wasn't the ideal situation. He had picked his hoodie for size and comfort, but the problem was the sleeves were a little large on him and had a place he could stick his thumb through if he felt like it. Normally that was fine – hiding his hands was a plus sometimes – but it didn't work when he was soldering.

And... ok, maybe a hoodie with hamster ears wasn't the best tech wear.

At least Bo didn't laugh when he rolled up his sleeves and kept working. He didn't mind her presence either as he made sure the wires weren't going anywhere once she started swinging again. Something about having her on his bed, watching him work, was comforting. In a sense, it was home. Though Cerberus had tried, they hadn't quite figured out how to hit that for him in their mad dash to convince him to work for them. Just the fact they had left him a uterus was a black mark they were never getting rid of, the rest was just icing on the shit cake of why he would eventually be stealing their ship and hightailing it back to the Alliance with all their info.

What, Frankenstein's monster caused a little havoc in his day. Wasn't he entitled to do the same? He hadn't exactly been asked to be brought back to save the galaxy.

“Just a little more and -” the screen glowed to life under his hands. “There we go, it's working again!”

Almost immediately, a message started playing. “Commander Shepard, if you could meet me in-”

Shit. He knew that voice. One eye landed on his XO – she had already tensed up. Then there was something about reports needing to be filed and she might have been behind on doing that? Honestly, no surprises there; Bo was analog, so computers tended to break around her. They'd probably been doing it even more with the Cerberus agent on her back about it.

If he wasn't careful, she was going to break the omni-tool, and he was out of spare parts...

“Fuck off, Miranda. I'll get to it once the computer's fixed.”  Bo reached over to shut off the link with surprising delicacy. She must have seen the fear in his eyes and held pity over his rebuilt form. “You think she'd get I hate her.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he started to clean. “Maybe she enjoys having an angry lesbian hating her.”

“Then she should love having a pissed off twink despising her.”

Despise – that was a good word. He'd accept it. It got close enough in his mind to how he actually felt as he swept away the remains of his repair project.  With a clean work space, it was easier to think. Not that it was ever completely easy, but it helped.

Though... did he hear something about a broken computer?

“So do you want me to fix that or what?”

Bo responded by practically picking him up and depositing him on the bed. “I want you to get some fucking sleep. You look like death.”

“I slept for 2 years-”

“Then a few more hours won't bother you.” She shot him a look. “You can't fix everything. It'll be there when you get up.”

Alistair wanted to argue, but it was impossible. When Bo got like that, he didn't stand a chance. Most times, he didn't even try. Mostly he was just annoyed she had picked him up like he was his own damn hamster.

He was a fully grown man, damn it...

“Alright, I'll swing by when I wake up.”

Bo nodded and started to retreat. “See you when you do. I'm going to go punch Miranda in the face for the uterus bullshit.”

Honestly, he wasn't sure if she was being serious as the door closed around him and the light dimmed. EDI had probably been listening in by then. It kept him from having to get up as he pulled off his hoodie and crawled under the blanket.

That was something else he would have to see to when he woke up. In a weird way, it was ironically appropriate. After all, Miranda's monster was going to have to go save Miranda from the angry villagers.

That, or Miranda's monster could just sleep a little longer. Being brought back from the dead was exhausting work. Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all...

[mischiefandspirits]

Who is Iron Man?

After a three month imprisonment by terrorists, child genius Tony Stark was rescued by an unknown entity. Who is this Iron Man? The world wants to know.

SI Founder Found Dead

By Kate Mallory - December 17, 2009

Today we mourn the loss of a technological superstar.

Last night, a car accident took the life of Stark Industries founder and CEO Howard Stark (age 87) as well as his wife Maria (age 79) and daughter Amanda (age 34). The family was reportedly on their way to the airport for a vacation in the Bahamas when, according to police representatives, one of their car’s tires blew out causing the vehicle to crash into a tree on the side of the road. Howard and Maria were pronounced dead on arrival while Amanda died en route to the hospital.

As Amanda was an only child and never married, the family is survived solely by her son, child genius and media rascal Anthony “Tony” Stark (age 8). A sudden illness had sprung up that morning, causing him to need to stay home with a family friend and saving him from the deadly crash.

Questions have begun to rise up over the future of both Stark Industries and the young Stark, but SI has only given a quick statement before closing all lines of communications for the time being. The statement, in short, revealed that Stark Industries COO Obadiah Stane would be taking over as CEO temporarily until Stark’s will can be seen to. Likewise, young Tony is set to remain with the mentioned unnamed family friend until such time.

Read on for a full obituary and discussion on what this could mean for the future of Stark Industries >>

BREAKING NEWS: A Stark Disappearance

By Tech-miss - January 26, 2011

A late-night posting, I know, but I’ve got big news, readers! A leak from within Stark Industries has just revealed that the company’s prized heir is currently MIA on the other side of the planet.

Two days ago, Tony Stark had been in Afghanistan for a demonstration of the Jericho Missile -- a revolutionary missile system utilizing SI’s repulsor tech -- when the military convoy escorting him fell under attack. When backup arrived, many of the soldiers were either dead or injured while Stark was nowhere to be found. A team has already been formed for search and rescue, headed by Colonel James Rhodes: USAF officer, military liaison to SI, and friend of Stark’s.

That was all the leak was willing to say, but requests have already been flooding in for further comments from the airforce, SI, and Stark’s legal guardian Obadiah Stane so I’ll be sure to update you all the moment I get more information!

Comment down below with your thoughts and theories my fellow techies!!!

The Child of Death Back From the Dead

By Ryan Prince - May 2, 2011

The business and technology worlds are in a stir today and unsurprisingly it’s all due to Tony Stark.

The nine-year-old returned to the states today after having been rescued less than a week earlier from his three-month imprisonment at the hands of the Ten Rings terrorist organization. True to form, he immediately made a scene.

Mere moments after Stark was reportedly supposed to have stepped off his plane, his minder and personal assistant Virginia “Pepper” Potts reached out to the Stark Industries public relations department to call together a press conference for Stark. Bolts&Blogs was on the list and I was lucky enough to be free to represent the site even with the short notice.

Stark opened the conference without the usual flare that has become his signature over the past year, though he did start it by sitting down in front of the podium with a cheeseburger and asking everyone to join him on the floor. He explained it away as an attempt to make everything less formal, but the boy was (justifiably) visibly exhausted by recent events.

Little information has been revealed about Stark’s imprisonment, but it’s hard not to imagine what he might have gone through and his appearance only makes it worse. He was thin with malnourishment and the rush makeup job he had gotten hadn’t managed to completely cover the bruises across his face or his sunburned flush. One of his arms was tucked into a sling and his artfully styled hair was now long and limp. There was also a seriousness about him that looked alien on the formerly excitable and mischievous boy.

Once everyone but those operating cameras had sat, Stark then proceeded to greet his legal guardian, Stark Industries CEO Obadiah Stane (Why Stane hadn’t been at the airport to greet his ward sooner is unknown at this time), before setting into a monologue about his grandfather, the late founder of Stark Industries Howard Stark (More information here). He wondered over what Howard had thought about the company, if he had doubts or was as confident in everything he did as the news painted him.

He then mentioned the soldiers from his escort that had died due to, as reports have hinted, Stark Industries made weaponry, stating that the company had “grown from arming the knights into arming the dragons.”

When questioned about what had happened in Afghanistan, Stark answered as such:

“I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. I know I have no power to change the company until I’m legally declared an adult and can claim my inheritance, so that is why, effective immediately, I am leaving the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries until such a time as I am capable of deciding what the future of this company will be, what direction it should take and is consistent with the highest good…”

Whatever more he had to say was lost as Stane escorted him off the stage into Potts’ waiting grasp. The man, despite his ever-present smile, had clearly been caught off guard by his ward’s statement and quickly concluded the conference.

As anyone who knows anything about technology could tell you, nothing worth talking about comes out of Stark Industries without the tiny fingerprints of the company’s resident genius on it, which begs the question of what this means for their weapons department? Will they still be able to stay ten steps ahead of their competitors without Stark’s designs? Where will Stark’s focus go now as Stark Industries has always been first and foremost a weapons manufacturer? I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.

[Subscribe] to Bolts&Blogs for the most up to date information from the world of technology and feel free to join the discussion down below!

Hidden Hero

By Tech-miss - June 27, 2011

New information has come out regarding Tony Stark’s rescue, readers, and it’s a doozy.

For starters, it wasn’t the USAF that did the rescuing.

According to the report published early this morning, an “unknown entity” (Let’s call him Uno) launched an attack on a Ten Rings base which the air force later realized was being used to hold Stark as well as a second unnamed prisoner (aka Doc) who had been brought in to treat the injuries he’d gained during his kidnapping. Uno then staged a rescue, freeing Stark and Doc before destroying the base. Afterwards, they watched over the two until a USAF chopper began to close in, at which time they took off and disappeared.

As far as anyone can tell from the report, the USAF doesn’t appear to have any idea who the rescuer is. Stark apparently didn’t have a clue and if Doc did, we’ll never know as he, unfortunately, fell unconscious shortly after being picked up due to wounds he received protecting Stark and died not long after while in surgery.

Of course that means theories abound. Everything from a secret SI black ops team to the stereotypical ALIENS!!!! have flooded the forums. I’m particularly interested in one such theory that posits Captain America was the one to save them, if only because all the OP said to justify it was “Cap could do it!!!!!” and I find that hilarious.

Hopefully, we’ll get some more information soon. Here’s hoping Zombie Cap didn’t save Stark for his brains.

Comment down below with your thoughts and theories my fellow techies!!!

Who is Iron Man?

By CamicsComics - October 27, 2011

Hey there CamComs! Today’s post is going to be different from my usual stuff, but that’s because we’ve got confirmation that a real-life superhero is flying around!

Some background that you might be missing if you live under a comic book-lined rock like I do: Five months ago child celebrity and genius Tony Stark was rescued by an unknown person after he’d been kidnapped in Afghanistan. If you’re wondering who would think sending a nine-year-old into an active war zone is a fine idea like I was, then I’ve got two words for you: attempted murderer. But we’ll get to that.

Theories have flown about regarding who might have saved him, and today the world got its answer.

Well, at least we got his alias.

See, while the kid was in Afghanistan he found out his company’s weapons had ended up in the hands of the very guys who were keeping him prisoner. Since most of the weapons were his own designs, the kid understandably decided to leave the weapons business. Honestly, the kid shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but again, his legal guardian was super sketch.

Said guardian was Obadiah Stane. He’d been a partner to Stark’s grandfather Howard Stark and took over as CEO after the man’s death. He’d allegedly been a pseudo uncle to Stark’s mother so people said it made sense the man was given guardianship. Apparently those people never considered the millions of stories about evil uncles killing off their nephews to become king.

Honestly, from what I’ve read, I’m surprised Colonel James Rhodes wasn’t given custody. The guy was friends with Stark’s mother, had a rapport with his grandparents, and is still close with Stark.

Stane had never even met Stark until he was given custody!

I’m getting off track though.

Today during a press conference, Stark revealed that he’s been looking into the dirty weapons. A few days ago, his assistant Pepper Potts found evidence on Stane’s computer that not only has Stane been dealing under the table, but he had put a hit out on Stark. When Stane realized he’d been found out, he decided to finish the job. He attacked Stark and nearly killed him before using an experimental piece of SI technology to try to kill Potts and the agents (they didn’t say who the agents were with, just that they were agents) that had accompanied her to arrest Stane.

Which brings us to the reason for this post.

Apparently the person who had rescued Stark from Afghanistan had been looking into the weapons too and arrived at the mansion Stane and Stark shared just in time to save Stark. Using information the boy gave him, he then flew over to SI to take down Stane.

And yes, I did mean flew. Because this mysterious person the media had dubbed Iron Man is exactly what you’d expect from a name like that. He’s got a high tech suit of armor that can fly and shoot lasers!!! Like I said real-life superhero! Not only that, but he’s got a team of robots to back him up.

Don’t believe me? Look it up! Stark leaked pictures online of said Iron Man taking down Stane to prove he’s not just some kid telling stories, which was quickly followed up by a bunch of different people posting their own pics all over social media to back him up.

When questioned on Iron Man’s identity, Stark refused to comment. However, he did admit that the rumors about Iron Man being his bodyguard were false.

“Although IM came to Afghanistan for me, it was because he’s was a good friend and not because he was being paid as some rumors have suggested. Also, any and all rumors that I created the suit or bots are not only untrue, but also super insulting. The suit is a work of art straight from IM's genius mind and he deserves all the praise for it.”

Of course, people picked up on the “good friend” comment when it comes to trying to figure out the man behind the suit. A theory that Col. Rhodes was Iron Man seemed the most likely as he is close to Stark, headed the search and rescue unit, and graduated MIT with degrees in engineering and physics. However, as some have pointed out, there are photos and videos showing Rhodes with Stark and Potts during the fight between Stane and Iron Man.

That’s it for the past, but what about the future?

For Iron Man’s future, it seems like he’s going to be working with the US military to track down all the dirty SI weapons. For little Stark, things are still up in the air.

Since his legal guardian is out of the picture and he has no living relatives, there is some debate on where he’ll go. Both Rhodes and Potts are trying to get custody. I’ve covered the good on Rhodes, though I should point out his position as SI’s military liaison does put him in an awkward place. Potts is in a similar position as she’s currently Stark’s employee. That said, there’s no denying Potts knows how to take care of him as she basically became his nanny after Stane took control and shifted her from her former position (the PA to the CEO) to being Stark’s PA and minder, which basically means she took care of the paperwork aspect of his job, made sure he was on time for appointments, got him to eat and go to bed, kept him out of trouble, and other such things his legal guardian should have been doing instead of plotting to kill a nine-year-old.

She’s also clearly fond of the kid. There are pictures all over of her and the kid together and even at her most scolding she never really seems to be angry with him (such as in these pictures from a gala where Stark apparently decided to set off a CONTROLLED EXPLOSION!?!?! “For some entertainment”! And apparently this is typical behavior? No one’s ever been hurt, but seriously kid?). In fact, she’s often caught indulging in his more playful mischief (such as these pics that show the two of them dancing at the recent Firefighter's Family Fund benefit where Stark apparently gate-crashed his own party).

We also know she has no fear telling off her boss no matter what considering we’ve got multiple sources to prove that the reason the woman got her job in the first place was because she -- and I’m not kidding here -- forced her way into Howard Stark’s office back when she was just a financial jocky to make him correct an error he’d made on some paperwork. She’d earned a face-full of pepper spray, a job, and a nickname for her bravery, the last courtesy of Tony Stark himself.

Well, sweet CamComs, as much as I’d love to keep talking about this, unfortunately, that’s all I got for now. I’ll be keeping a close eye on Iron Man and Stark (because there’s zero chance that kid won’t get caught up in something again. Heck, maybe he’ll even build his own suit and become the hero’s sidekick. Seems right up the kid’s alley) and keep you updated, but unless something else happens, I’ll be back to my usual content on Tuesday.

Subscribe, like, and share, CamComs! Until next time, be the hero you want to see in the world!

Iron Tweet

By Ryan Prince - November 12, 2011

Does the mysterious superhero Iron Man have a Twitter? It would seem so!

Two days ago, @1r0n_M4n opened with the name 0111 01 1011. At first glance, one might think it was just a fan account, but the accounts first Tweet -- “Is this how I do it @ Tony?” -- was not only liked by Tony Stark, Virginia “Pepper” Potts, and Col. James Rhodes, but Stark also replied to it with “Yeah, but you actually have to use my thing, @1r0n_M4n”. Rhodes followed suit with “Was Iron Man spelled out normally seriously taken already?” and Potts responded with “Yes, but @1r0n_M4n wanted it spelled like that to begin with.” By that point, many had taken notice of the account and it only increased when the account became verified late last night.

While the account has since been flooded with questions about the hero and suit, none have been answered. However, when someone jokingly asked for help with a math homework problem, Iron Man responded with a picture of the problem worked out. This began a slew of people asking for Iron Man’s help with their varying homework problems until Potts spoke up with “@1r0n_M4n you can’t just do people’s homework for them. They need to learn how to do it themselves.” Iron Man immediately apologized and afterward only responded to such tweets with links to varying sites that proved to have useful information for whatever the problem might be. While most gave up afterward, some --usually college-age -- continued to request assistance with grateful thanks afterward.

The account currently has 500k+ followers and growing, but only follows six accounts. Stark, Potts, and Rhodes are obvious, but people have become curious over the other three: @GirlFriday, @Uuuuuuuuuu, and @DUM_E.

@GirlFriday (named F.R.I.D.A.Y.) appears to be a graphic artist. The account boasts no personal tweets, but many designs have been posted, some of which are said to have been sold to different companies. A few Stark Industries logos have even been found on the site, including the current one.

@Uuuuuuuuuu’s (named U) account consists entirely of retweeted music videos with genres ranging from classical to rap with the only comments being a sad or happy emoji for each to apparently give the account owner’s approval or disapproval.

@DUM_E (named Butterfingers) is a more wildcard account. It mostly consists of retweeted recipes and cooking videos, but there are also links to recipes on what appears to be @DUM_E’s own personal cookbook website as well as original cooking videos featuring far less appetizing mixtures (such as the one which features what appears to be motor oil being blended with strawberries, a banana, and almond milk). This seems to be the most curious account though as it is the only one with personal comments, though they are all coded in an odd mix of binary and morse code. Most of the comments either review recipes they’ve tried out or complain of annoying brothers and sisters without giving any names, but that’s not the curious part.

You see, those that put in the effort to decode @DUM_E’s comments realized that the same code was used for @1r0n_M4n’s name. Translated it reads Jay. Although that’s not much to go on, it is more than we had before. That’s not all though, because people have compared pictures from Stark’s workshop to screenshots from @DUM_E’s videos and website to show that the videos were filmed at the kitchenette in the lab. This has led some to believe the account might be a “shitpost” account of Stark’s, though others have argued that the comments about siblings wouldn’t make sense for him. When questioned, @DUM_E responded with a pair of tweets that, when translated, read, “Tony could not make good food like me.” and “If I didn’t make him food and bring it to him, he’d never eat.”

Before anyone else could respond, @1r0n_M4n added, “The recipes in @DUM_E’s videos are his more experimental ones and @TStark rarely partakes in them. @DUM_E usually feeds him the recipes from his site.”

Stark’s Twitter was immediately bombarded with questions of which of the video recipes fell into the “rarely” column, which Stark refused to reply to. Rhodes, however, posted a none too subtle tweet a short time later about how Tony and he agreed motor oil tasted better with bananas than chocolate.

Who could these mystery accounts belong to and how are they connected to Stark and Iron Man? How are Iron Man and Stark connected in the first place? Could these mystery accounts be the key? How many times has Stark eaten motor oil? Time will tell.

[Subscribe] to Bolts&Blogs for the most up to date information from the world of technology and feel free to join the discussion down below!

[the--sad--hatter]

Phantom Pain (11)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader 

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF. 

DESCRIPTION -  Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eleven - The Widow and The Queen 

“Uncle Thaddy, the board are worried. Isn’t there some way we can keep people from finding out that daddy’s Hydra?” You begged.

“With all due respect, you can’t keep this wrapped up just because your niece doesn’t want to lose her inheritance.” Natasha said.

You threw her a dirty look.

“Miss Romanov this does not concern you, this is a family matter.” Ross snapped.

“King inc makes weapons for the government as well, even The Avengers have used the automatic machine guns made by the company. It is my business and I don’t think we can cover this up.” Natasha retorted calmly.

“Why do people have to know? Can’t we say that daddy’s taking a sabbath or something?” You whined petulantly.

“Sabbatical, the word you’re looking for is sabbatical. And sooner or later people will wonder why Alexander King has disappeared.” Natasha informed you coldly.

“Let them wonder, it’s better than them knowing we’re related to a traitor. My Uncle is a highly respected member of parliament...”

“There’s no parliament in the US.”

“... and he can’t have people knowing about this and I’m... well I’m innocent! I don’t want people thinking I’m not! I’ll tell people Daddy is sick or he had an accident of had to get surgery, we can hire an actor to play him.” You shrieked.

Ross looked thoughtful under his wincing at your sheer volume.

“As you said Miss Romanoff, we all have ties to Alexander King and it will reflect badly on us all. It would be best for everybody if nobody were to find out about this.” Ross said.

“Do you have an idea Uncle Thaddy?” You asked hopefully.

“I do, let me take care of it. You just go back to... whatever it is you do and let me handle it.” He ordered, turning away and dismissing you.

Natasha shot you a discreet wink.

“Think he’ll take the bait?” She asked once you were back in the car.

“He’s never had an original thought, he grabs on for dear life to other people’s wise ideas and convinces himself he came up with it. He’ll take the bait.” You assured her.

“You don’t think much of your family do you Koroleva?”

“You’ve met my father and my uncle? Are you impressed?” You rebutted.

“Not with them.”

“Speaking of my father, can you do me one more favour?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There was no awkward getting to know each other stage with Natasha, it went from only having spoken once to being friends. She appreciated your penchant for manipulation and you appreciated her... everything. Mostly her access to secure government buildings and her willingness to exploit that on your behalf.

“You look awful.” You said, smirking gleefully at your father.

He smirked back across the metal table at you and twisted his hands in the cuffs attaching him to it.

“My sweet daughter, I admit, I didn’t think you would be the one to betray me.” He said conversationally, as if you were talking about something nice like the weather.

“It’s always the one’s you least expect.” You told him.

“Your whole life, I thought you were a bitter disappointment and you finally manage to impress me, by turning on me.”

“I’ve always found that impressing people I don’t respect at all is just not important to me.” You retorted calmly.

“Perhaps if you had shown me this side of you sooner, we would have been closer.” He chuckled in amusement.

“Perhaps if you weren’t evil I would have actually tried to be closer to you.”

“You don’t believe this nonsense about me being Hydra do you? You’re being manipulated by Tony Stark and The Avengers.” He insisted casually, leaning back with a smug expression.

“They are, we would like to make the new armour piercing bullets standard issue. I trust the cost will not be an issue Mr King?”

“Not at all, I can funnel enough funds from the company to cover it. Hail Hydra.”

The recording echoed through the room clearly and you resited the urge to wave at Natasha through the one sided glass as your father sat forward with a snarl.

“What did you do?” He hissed.

“Slipped a bug into your pocket, gave The Avengers all my security codes, cancelled the detonation you set.” You listed off.

“You little bitch. You thought that if you helped them you could have the company, is that it? You don’t get my shares unless I’m dead. I’ll change my will, I’ll order the board not to let you near the company ever again, you’ll lose everything!”

“You’re not going to be able to speak to the board, you’re not going to be able to speak to anybody. You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a tiny, damp, dark cell. I’d say I’ll visit but I am a King, my word means nothing.” You said, standing up.

“You haven’t won, you are in over your head. I will ruin you for this!” He called after you as you opened the door.

Natasha was waiting for you in the hallway and she grinned savagely at your father through the door.

“The King is dead, Long live the Queen.” She said and shut the door on him.

“Miss King, we need you to come with us.” Two guards said and you shot Natasha a confused look.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Back when he was young, before the war he’d have called the way he was acting now ‘Doll-Dizzy’. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your laughter would echo in his head every few moments, or the way your hips moved when you waked would play in his mind.

He gave in to it and let himself remember the way you’d teased him when he threatened to spank you, and if Steve hadn’t called at that precise moment...

His heart hammered in his chest when he thought about the look of sheer desperation and longing on your face when you’d asked him to kiss you and they way you’d held on to him when he did. You’d tasted like heaven and your soft lips had moved in perfect synchronicity with his.

But it wasn’t real, it had been a crutch. Something you needed in the moment, you’d said so yourself. You didn’t want him, no matter how much you flirted with him. Flirting was just something you did with everyone, even the way you teased Stark was flirtatious.

He’d been warned that you were a heartbreaker and he knew this was going to end badly but he couldn’t help himself.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked loudly from the doorway of your bedroom.

“Making sure she feels at home.” Bucky didn’t look up from his task while he answered.

“You hoping she decides to stick around Barnes?” Sam teased.

Bucky looked Sam in the eye.

“Yes.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Princess, are you alright?” Tony demanded, bursting into the interrogation room.

You raised your head off your cuffed hands on the table and shot him a dirty look.

“They know I’m The Phantom. I’ve been arrested for breaking the Accords.” You snarled.

“No, you haven’t. They have no proof. I can fix this, Romanoff is working on it.” He assured you with a false sense of bravado.

“Actually, this is going exactly as I planned.” Natasha said as she opened the door and walked into the room.

As Tony turned around to look at her you phased your hands through the cuffs and reached over to snap them onto his wrists.

“Sorry Stark, you brought this on yourself.” Natasha told him as he struggled with the cuffs.

“Alright ladies, if you wanted to have me tied...”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You warned.

“Consider this practice for what happens if anyone figures out that you broke the Accords you forced on us.” Natasha said coldly.

“I don’t really have a reason for doing this.” You said brightly, snapping a photo of Tony’s furious expression.

“Alright, very funny. You do realise I can get out of these right?” He said cockily.

“Good luck, there’s not a single piece of tech in this room so you’ll have to break out the old fashioned way. Should only take you a few hours.” Natasha informed him.

“Oh, there’s one piece of tech. The speakers.” You said evilly as Natasha pressed a button on a device she pulled from her pocket.

“Agadoo doo doo push pineapple shake the tree” Blared through the room, almost masking Tony’s enraged yelling as you and Natasha closed the door and left him alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You! You can stay. Your man West can cook and your cat has been nearly made Cap cry at least three times already today.” Sam Wilson said as soon as you walked into the common room.

“So you only want me for my connections?” You asked him, holding your hands up to your heart dramatically like he’d wounded you.

He snorted in amusement.

“Please, that ship has sailed. As in you and Barnes sailed away on that ship.” Sam said, grinning to show there was no hard feelings.

You shifted uncomfortably. Yes, Bucky had kissed you after you had asked him to, yes it had been absolutely breathtaking but...

“I don’t date. There’s nothing between me and Bucky.” You said with a tone of finality.

“You might want to go to your room and tell him that...”

You shot an alarmed look at Sam and hurried away to see what he was talking about, his laughter following you. You burst dramatically into your temporary room and did a double, nay a triple take. The first shocking thing was that the furniture had been replaced with your own from your penthouse, Bucky currently putting your books onto your bookshelves. The second shocking thing was Frank, who was perched on Bucky’s shoulder and purring.

“Uhhhh” You said intelligently.

“Where have you been all day?” Bucky asked, looking a little annoyed.

“I went to King Inc and apparently fell through a portal to an alternate dimension where I live here now and my cat isn’t a violent lil asshole.” You answered.

“You have bruised ribs, Hydra might actually be after you for real this time. You can’t just leave without telling me.” He said, dropping Frank onto your couch and walking towards you.

“Let’s get something straight half metal jacket, I can do whatever the hell I want.” You snapped.

“Yes, you can. But I can worry about you.” He snapped back.

His fingers brushed the bottom of your shirt and he paused, standing there waiting for something. You figured it was permission and nodded. He lifted your shirt up, exposing your ribs.

They were still bruised but not badly, Bruce’s painkillers and healing medications had been working wonders all day. You bit down on a smile as you realised how worried he had been about you.

“Why is all my stuff here? I’m not staying.” You said softly.

“I’ll move it back when you leave, I just thought you might be more comfortable with your own stuff here.”He explained, his fingers still brushing experimentally over your ribs.

You damn near swooned and he mistook it for you being in pain because he snatched his hand back.

“We need to talk about some things.” He said.

“Yeah, we do.” You agreed.

“How did you become The Phantom?” He asked.

“I’m sorry I made you kiss me.” You said at the exact same time.

You both paused and looked at each other awkwardly. He could have brushed over your admission, he could have apologised, he could have agreed or disagreed or done a million other things. What he decided to do was lean in until his lips were a breath away from yours.

“You didn’t make me do anything.” He whispered hoarsely.  

Your breaths were shallow as you closed your eyes and waited for him to press his lips against yours but it didn’t happen. He stepped back and you opened your eyes, a red tinge of embarrassment spreading across your skin. His eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the blush and he smirked cockily at you.

“It was just a kiss Domniţă, there’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

But it was a big deal to him, and your reaction made him sure that you thought so as well. Which meant he could get you to ask him again. Because he wasn’t going to kiss you unless you asked. He’d flirt, he’d woo you and seduce you but he wouldn’t touch you until you begged him to.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Agadoo is the single most annoying song I know and the idea of Nat and Reader locking Tony in a room with it blasting on repeat gives me so much joy.

Side note, what are your thoughts on Clintasha? Pepperoni? There's obviously got to be other ships in the story and I want your guys input on what you like/don't like.

You can ask to be added to or removed from tags at any time folks, just comment or inbox :D @drdorkus @gravedollie666 @sadsoldat @bigplantdaddy @moodyruth @likes-to-smell-books @shirukitsune @inquisitor-selvala  @myfandomlife-blog @markusstraya @adeleoctobre @vajeenparty @sexyvixen7  @love-nakamura  @buckitybarnes @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @jsmith509 @brownlee-22 @angieptt  @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @tarastudiesalot @spnrvt @dahkness @dilaila95 @rororo06 @mizzzpink @release-the-cathyrchkn @thefridgeismybestie  @fairislesheets​ @strangersstranger​ @life-wanderer​​ @uuuuuuuuggggghhh​​ @curiositykilledthepepe @musingpredilection  @boxofteenageideas @thelostallycat @demonlover87 @cutie1365

[theblueskyphoenix]

Grid Ghost Chapter 4: Treatments

“And you’re positive Sycorax will be able to succeed in this treatment plan for his tumor?” Kim asked, her arms crossed, leaning against a table.

“Of course.” Liv smiled, her arms folded behind her back. “We have all the medical tools and advances needed. However, it is still an experimental treatment so your husband will be very much a trial run. But we promise, we will treat him well. You’ve been looking for answers and you’re willing to do whatever it takes, right?”

Kim glanced to the side. 

“I… I suppose… You promise he will be safe?”

Liv nodded.

“I do. He’ll be treated very well under our care. You want him to live a good long healthy life right?”

“Yes…”

“Then please, let us take him into our hands and give him that life he deserves.”

Yeah… Sure. More like “Give him to us so we can have a lab rat because of how special his condition is but oh no don’t worry he’ll be treated like a king.” Please…

Trina never could forget the day her father was taken from her. Her mother never knew that she had eavesdropped on her conversation with Liv. She usually respected her mother’s privacy with clients but… this one was an exception.

Liv just didn’t feel right to her. The look in her eyes, the way she carried herself, how she spoke to others, it all felt so fake to her. If Trina didn’t know better she would think the woman was some kind of alien trying to pose as a human with how she acted.

And that’s where I have to stop watching too many sci-fi movies before bed.

Trina shook her mind of it, focusing on the moment at hand. 

Now was not the time to be bitter. It was a time to be happy.

Trina stood outside the door of a patient room, a basket that contained an assortment of goodies held tightly to her chest, Takashi standing next to her. 

“Do you think we should come back later?” she asked. “I mean, maybe we should wait till all the surgery stuff is done.”

Takashi placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You can give him something to look forward to after the surgery stuff is over. Besides, you’ve wanted to see him for over a year now. Do you want to wait longer?”

“No… just…” Trina lowered her head. “… Call me nuts I’m just… worried he wouldn’t want to see me right now. Liv always rubbed me the wrong way and I just worry what she did to his head. What if… he doesn’t remember me?”

Takashi’s look turned gentle, bringing her into a side hug.

“I doubt that’s the case. Who could forget someone as awesome as you?”

Trina giggled.

“Taka…”

“I mean it. But, it’s up to you if you want to see him now.”

Trina looked at the door again, pondering for a moment before giving a nod.

“Let’s say hi.”

They both moved forward, Takashi knocking on the door.

“Come in.” 

Trina’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her father’s voice. The most she had been able to hear of it in recent times was old videos her mother had recorded, be it him doing things on his own time or when he was spending time with her or listening to old voicemails on her phone. 

Trina took a deep breath before opening the door, entering the room, Takashi behind her. 

Her eyes were wide as she beheld Obake. While his hair was different in how it was styled and he was a little on the paler side, there was no questioning it was her father. Especially with the red streak in his hair that she knew all too well. 

Obake’s eyes were wide too as he stared back at Trina. It was the real Trina. The daughter he had raised for over ten years. The daughter he spoiled to the moon and back.

My Little Star…

“H… Hi…” Trina whispered, moving closer to the bed.

“Hello…” He said, sitting up a little. 

Trina swallowed hard, trying her best to keep it together.

“It’s…. It’s been awhile…” Trina fumbled with the basket in her hands, lowering her head a little. “You… remember me… right?”

Obake tipped her chin up, his eyes glassy with tears.

“How could I ever forget my Little Star?”

Trina smiled, biting her lip.

“Daddy…”

She set the basket down, bringing her arms as gently as she could around Obake, huddling close to him.

“Oh, Daddy! It’s really you!” She cried out, burying her face into his shoulder.

Obake hugged her as tightly as he could, running his hand through her hair. 

“Trina…”

She really is alive… My dear daughter…

He took in everything he could from this moment. Her warmth, the softness of her hair, the tenderness of her embrace… He had forgotten what this actually felt like. He had moments with the bot version of his daughter but… nothing could ever replace what he was feeling right now.

Obake rested his head against hers, sighing happily. 

“I’m home…”

Trina nodded, nuzzling him.

“You are… You really are.”

She pulled back away from him gently, cupping his face in her hands. 

“Sorry just… I’m just so happy to see you again.”

Obake smiled gently, placing his hands over hers.

“I think I can understand how you feel entirely.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. 

Trina giggled, keeping close.

“I never stopped looking for you. I promised that no matter what would happen, I would always keep looking for you.”

“Oh, Trina…”

Trina smiled.

“What would I be without my partner in crime?”

Obake chuckled, cupping one her cheeks in his hand.

“An amazing young lady. Least, I think so.”

Trina leaned into his hand.

“Dad…”

They embraced each other again for a moment before Trina pulled away, picking up the basket she had brought in.

“I know you can’t eat for a bit because surgery reasons but I got your favorites in here along with get better food for when you can. Packets of miso soup, bottled water, chocolate and, courtesy of Takashi over there, freshly baked mini blueberry scones.”

Obake looked over to Takashi, who was currently leaning against a wall in the room. He gave a small wave, along with a sheepish look.

“Trina said it would make a good first impression… Also, your wife and Shaylin said you deserved better than that scone you had stashed in your backpack.”

Obake rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I suppose they’re right… Well, thank you. I look forward to eating all of this once I’m in the clear from surgery.” Obake set the basket on the side table next to his bed before looking back to Takashi. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a proper introduction.”

Takashi gave a bow.

“Takashi Sky. I’m Shaylin’s eldest son. Trina and I have been buddies for about a year now.”

“Yep.” Trina smiled. “We bonded over martial arts. He’s my…” She giggled, putting her hands together. “Senpai~!”

Obake brought a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh too hard.

Takashi chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes, she’s my good little kohai. She can totally kick anyone’s butt though.”

“That’s my girl.” Obake smiled. “Thank you for being a good friend to her, Takashi. Oh, and you have made a good first impression.”

“Awesome.” Takashi grinned.

Trina smiled, taking one of Obake’s hands into hers. 

“Really glad to have you back, Dad. We got a lot to catch up on.”

Obake smiled, squeezing her hand.

“And I look forward to hearing every last bit of it.”

oooooo 

“I’m going to kill that devil woman the next time I see her.” Kim growled, her eyes narrowed.

She and Shaylin were looking over Obake’s charts and treatment plans that were on his USB via Kim’s computer. They detailed everything they needed to know about his implant and how to go about handling it along with his tumor. It disgusted both Kim and Shaylin how the implant worked and what it had been doing to Obake for the past year.

“I’m in line right behind you.” Shaylin said, her own eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid to know what she would’ve done to Takashi if I had let her get near him when I called her in for opinions on his condition.”

“Poke, prod, see what makes him tick and I dunno, maybe turn him into her pet.” Kim sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I honestly don’t know anymore. I already had a low opinion of her as it were, now it’s hit to levels of words I would never say in front of my daughter.”

“Si, si.” Shaylin shook her head. “Well, we can plan to murder her reputation later. Right now, we need to help Bob.” Shaylin turned her attention to his surgery notes. “So, we can’t dismantle the implant. It’s too embedded into the skull and would be risky to remove. So, instead, we’re reprogramming it to work to his advantage and deactivating the shock collar function.” Shaylin raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he wants the thing to still be active at all, though.”

“Well, seeing as it could act as an aid to keep the tumor from returning, I can see why in that regard. And… Okay, I’ll give Liv credit, giving him the ability of technokinesis is quite the feat she pulled and I can see why he’d keep it since it would have plenty of uses outside of whatever she had him do for her. Though, we’re going to need some help in regards to the tech. I’m a neurosurgeon, not a bio tech surgeon.”

“Let me take care of that part. I’m gonna call in Eboni since this is right up her alley.”

“Ah, good idea. Then I’ll just focus on the tumor.” Kim frowned as she looked at the scan, showing the state of it. “I never thought I’d see it that big.”

“It’s bad but you can handle it, right?”

Kim nodded.

“I’ve been testing a procedure for years now to remove it. I’ll have to make tweaks to it but I’m sure it’s going to work. It has to. For his sake.”

“Then we have a plan.” 

Shaylin closed the charts, getting up.

“I’ll go get the O.R. prepped and call in Eboni. We won’t start the procedure till everyone has gotten a proper rest but at the very least, everything will be ready.”

“Right.” Kim got up as well. “I’m going to go talk to Bob. I have some catching up to do.”

“Sounds good.”

The women parted ways, heading for their own respective destinations.

Kim quietly opened the door to Obake’s room, peeking inside to see if he was awake. Her heart melted as she saw him fast asleep with Trina curled up to his side, her arms around him.

Kim smiled softly, making her way into the room, closing the door behind her. She grabbed an extra blanket from one of the cabinets, draping it over Trina, who smiled in her sleep, nuzzling her father’s chest.

“Sweet dreams, Little Star.” Kim whispered, kissing her head before looking to Obake, kissing his head as well. “You too, my love.”

Obake smiled a bit in his sleep, nuzzling her a little. Kim nuzzled back before pulling away, making herself comfortable on the guest bed in the room. She took one last look at Obake and Trina before closing her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Don’t worry, Bob. I’ll cure you soon.

I promise.

[whumpqhs]

Whumptober #11. Stitches

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

"Get up."

Sonora groaned and sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. She'd been let loose from the restraints on the medical bed when the prisoner she’d been set to save had recovered, and while she was still kept in the same interrogation room much of the time, the "interviews" had gotten fewer, and further between. 

In their place were long sleepless nights, pressed into service as everything from a short-order lab tech to an emergency trauma surgeon to a burn specialist. Newly and critically wounded from the war, these prisoners were too high value to be allowed to die, and with new battles every day, the infirmary was struggling to keep up. She followed that familiar punchable face into the clean room, past all modesty by this point, and started changing into fresh scrubs and washing her hands. Next came the PPE, already laid out for her on a tray. No extras; nothing for her to sneak out. He trained the blaster on her as she pulled on her shoe covers and tied the apron around her legs.

It wasn't her first time scrubbing in at gunpoint, even before her capture, and it was very unlikely to be the last. But it wasn’t all bad: her bruises were healing, she was getting actual food… 

"Here, let me get that for you."

...and Keeper had become substantially less of an ass. She turned, giving him her back, and tucked her head down so he could tie the gown at the nape of her neck. 

"Thanks. Where are we?"

"OR 2." He followed behind her. His blaster was still aimed at the middle of her back, and it gave her the nerves, but she was getting used to it, in a way. Sometimes she could even forget about it, for a few seconds, or sometimes longer if he set it down, like he did now, passing it off to a guard standing at the doorway as he fixed her with a stern and serious glare. 

"Remember, Cipher--if he dies…"

"I go too. Yes. Can I do the timeout now?" She'd long since accepted that condition of the arrangement… and had moved on to making sure he understood that it no longer bothered her.

"Can y--? No. It's my turn to do the timeout." He shook his head. "You did it last time." 

Success, in the form of a petulant look from the elite SIS agent. 

"No, you did it. Remember? The exploratory lap?"

Greater success: for a moment, he scrunched his eyebrows together and frowned. "...oh yeah. I guess I did. Go on then."

Her smirk about being right--and making him admit it--was invisible behind her mask, fortunately. As she settled into the familiar rhythm of something she'd done so many times before, she could feel the tension and panic of being a prisoner melting away as, for a moment, she wasn’t a prisoner at all. She was herself again: a Cipher, a caregiver… 

"Alright, time out! Hands off the patient. This is prisoner F2975, thirty year old, Force blind, Zabrak male. We're doing a resection of damaged GI tissue with multiple sites, debridement of any necrotic tissue. Going in from the lower left quadrant, site is marked…" she checked the lines of body marker on his skin, "Patient is positioned supine, draped appropriately, intubated and anesthetized… do we all agree so far?"

Around her, the rest of the team nodded. She continued. "Skin prep looks like it's already been done. Ten blade, please."

The fact that Keeper willingly handed her a knife, scrubbed in and standing at her right, should have been a clue about how sure they were that she’d never make it out of here. But if she started thinking about that, she might make a mistake. Instead, she thought only of making the perfect incision, cutting at just the right angle, to just the right depth. Blood spilled out from behind the inflamed skin. She didn’t even need to call for suction; he was already working on it, moving it behind her blade and staying out of her way.

“You’re good at this.” 

“Thanks. I wanted to be a surgeon.” He offered her the retractor she’d been about to ask for. How did he know? “They make us get out after a certain amount of medical training, so I only got my RN. Not like the Empire.”

“How would you know about the Empire’s policies, hm?”

She’d had Cipher training, unlike the rest of the room, so even in her peripheral vision, she could see what they hopefully couldn’t: the flicker of surprise as he looked up at her and then quickly recovered--he was a spy too, after all--and smoothly replied, “I read your file when we captured you. Imperial Medical Board has you down with a stack of certificates and extra degrees as tall as I am. They should really stop using the same personnel numbers as Imperial Intelligence… that’s pretty much asking for trouble. Worked out pretty well for us, though.” He grinned at her and went back to working the suction as she slowly opened up the incision to see what they were dealing with.

“Ah. Well… I was a bit of a special case.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m not just a medical operative. They usually don’t get that much training… since they do a lot of field work. Theirs tends more toward strategy, tactics, search and rescue, that stuff.”

“Not you?” He passed in a hemostat when she put out her hand. 

“Not me. Ciphers are… different. I did most of my work in a hospital setting, like this one. Targets too highly classified to be given to regular medics. Important figures who were under threat and needed a trusted team… or who could make it worthwhile for Intelligence. We were the best in the Empire; and that meant we were constantly in demand.” Even now, she couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. Being promoted had been the best day of her life.

“Huh. We don’t have that type of thing; at least not that I know of. Just Agents, Special Agents, like me…”

“If it’s one up from the typical agent rank, then it’s the same as Cipher--so… you and I would be the same, then.”

“Hey, watch it, Ron.” One of the nurses cut in. “No need to go giving her info.”

“Your name is Ron?” She stopped, with both hands in the patient, and just looked at him.

“...Rongeur. It’s my designation. You are still my prisoner, and you will still call me Keeper.” She could see the color rising into his cheeks.

“It’s a nice designation. Useful instrument.”

He shook his head. She could hear the rest of the team snickering… clearly they were already well aware of how he didn’t like it. She sighed and went back to clamping, and cutting away, the tissue, then stitching the remaining healthy bowel back together.

“Oh, come on. No one likes their first callsign. I was so excited to change mine when I got promoted. It’s okay.”

“If it’s so “okay”, then why don’t you tell me yours?”

“Nice try.” She finished the last stitch on the intestine. “Rinse please, sterile saline and kolto.”

Once the cavity had been irrigated out, she nodded. “I think we’re about ready to close up, what about you? I need a second pair of eyes.”

He leaned in to check her work, nodding. “Looks good to me.” With the main procedure done, personnel began to leave, prepping for the eventual move to the infirmary’s PACU. When it was just them and the anaesthesia droid, she looked over at him. 

“Epi.”

“What? No. He’s not coding.”

“No, that was… that was me. My designation.” She placed the last stitch to anchor everything down within the cavity. “I was part of the rapid response team. Specialized in running codes. They used to say I was like a dose of it--little, which always made me mad, and… the best thing to have on hand if your heart stopped. Which made me really happy. So when I got to change my designation, that’s what I picked.”

Keeper--she’d already decided she wasn’t going to use that other name, it fit him even less somehow--looked back at her and quietly repeated, “Epi.”

“Mhmm.”

He picked up a needle holder, sighing. “I guess if they ever let me change mine--although I don’t think SIS does that--I’ll pick something cool like that.”

Why was it suddenly warmer than usual behind her mask?...

“I, y’know, it’s not that cool. I just… you’re right about yours, it really doesn’t suit you…”

“Thanks. Everyone else knows I hate it, they get a real kick out of it. S’why I jumped on making you call me something else.” He gestured to the needles that were lined up on the tray, already threaded. “You want the silk, or the Dakryl?”

“...You mean the dainethylene, right?”

“Huh?”

“You just did it again.”

“Did what?”

“When you get some time, look at that package. I’ve had to use Republic supplies in the field, you know? Emergency surgery… nowhere on there does it say Dakryl. It says the generic name. Dainethylene.” She paused, then added, “I want the silk, though.”

“It… so what?” He handed it over. She could tell from his tone that she’d hit a nerve. “I must have picked it up from a prisoner, like you. You’re not the first Sith-licking Imperial to come through here, don’t flatter yourself.”

Sonora started placing the stitches carefully. She knew she shouldn’t push. But… “You usually talk about surgical supplies with the prisoners here?”

“My specialty as a medical operative is interrogating. With medical torture. It comes up.” But he sounded defensive.

“I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just… strange. I’ve captured my fair share of SIS too, you know?...”

“I’m well aware.”

“They didn’t talk like you do.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. And as soon as he’s closed up, you’re going back to your cell.”

She blinked at him, tying off another stitch. “Was it something I said?”

“You keep acting like you have something on me, Cipher, well let me make this clear--you don’t.” His speech was fast and pressured, and he sounded genuinely angry. “I am a loyal Republic citizen. I always have been, and always will be. And you are still alive only because you are useful, and not very much trouble, so if I were you I’d be very careful about irritating the person who has to fight for you not to be taken downstairs and shot.”

That brought her up short. Mid-stitch, in fact. “...you… you’re the reason they’re keeping me?”

He turned away, prepping another needle. “You pull your weight. Don’t make errors. You work without complaint, the shit no one else wants to do, you do it.”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“So you do it, and you don’t spend an hour in the charge nurse’s office whining about having to.” He passed it over to her. “I’m trying to convince them that you’ll defect if we give you time to see that the Republic’s not all bad. We’ve lost a few of our agents to Imperial Intelligence. Might as well even the score.”

“So what would that be like? Just… turning around for the other guys, just like that?”

“They wipe your memory. Parts of it. So I hear, anyway.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t be much use as a medic, then.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe they leave those parts alone, so you can still practice.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. It seemed like they were both making the connection at roughly the same time. Parts like the names of suture thread?

Keeper was the one to jump in and try to fill the silence. “--Either way, you don’t have to stay in a prison cell once you defect, you know. You should do it. Come fight for the good guys.”

“Would that be the good guys who, unlike Imperial Intelligence, let their medical agents specialize in medically torturing people for information?”

“The very same.”

“...yeah, not yet.” She placed the last stitch. 

“Think about it.”

“I will, if you’ll think about something for me.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed to her stitches. “What was it you called this? Far-far, near-near, symmetrical bites...”

“It’s a Tirian loop. Did they not teach you that?”

“Yeah, they taught me that. At the Academy on Dromund Kaas. Tirian comes from Lord Tiria, the Dark Council seat for Biotic Sciences. He perfected it a couple hundred years back and promptly insisted on it being renamed after him...” As she began to tape down the drain coming out of the incision, she continued, “I had hold of one of your medics once. And I used this stitch on him. He called it a Beltic stitch, after Beltos Shala, the one who invented it.” Sterile gauze padded the stitches and wicked away any extra fluid. “...So while I know where I learned it… I’m pretty curious about where you did. Mister Loyal Republic Citizen.”

“It is not your job to be curious.” His voice had dropped back to the cold, cutting tone from when she’d first seen him, standing over her as her muscles locked up. She winced. “You’re a prisoner, it’s your job to do what you’re kriffing told. Are you finished with the procedure?”

“...yes.”

“Good.” He ripped the PPE off of himself and tapped on his wrist comm. “I’ll have them come get him and move him to PACU. You’re going back to your cell. Now.”

“What?! I can’t leave a patient!”

He picked up the blaster and leveled it at her chest. “You’re. Going. Back. To your CELL, now MOVE.”

--

[mearcatsreturns]

We Part Only to Meet Again, ch. 9

A problem springs up with Luka’s work visa and he is on the verge of having to leave the country. Abby can’t stand the thought of him leaving and offers a solution: a green card marriage. It might kill them both, but they're committed. 

Luka and Abby continue to enjoy each other, sometimes in ill-advised places at ill-advised times. The ER receives a letter and they mourn as a group.

And @somekindofflowergirl and I are back with the 9th chapter of our marriage of convenience AU! Sorry about the delays--between starting a new job and then having my blog deleted, writing only happened sporadically. But we’re glad to be back.

It’s also on ao3, if that’s more your speed. 

Ch. 9: A Letter and Consolation

Luka couldn’t help but smile as he made his way into the ER. He and Abby had slightly staggered shifts today, so she was already there, and he couldn’t wait to see her.

It had been about a month since they’d found their way back together. To bed, that is. Well, beds, couches, counters, and on one memorable occasion, an office printer at work. He was almost used to the eye-rolling from their coworkers at this point.

He and Abby had even met their neighbors, who were less than enthusiastic about how loud living next to them had gotten. That had been a little embarrassing, but he’d since had someone come by and improve the insulation, which had helped (so had the apology cookies he’d given them).

It should have gotten easier to bear, the heat between them, but it was as if indulging it had just made their hunger for each other stronger. Not that Luka had any complaints—nor did Abby, it seemed—but it might have made it simpler to do things, like, oh, work.

“Morning, Jerry, Frank,” he greeted them after clocking in. Frank just made an annoyed sound, and even Jerry shook his head as Luka walked past.

And there was Abby coming out of trauma two. Even though she was a mess, she lit up when she saw him.

He grinned back at her, resisting the urge to kiss her passionately in the middle of the hall. “Are you done in there?”

“Yeah, it was an MVA, but we got the guy stabilized and Romano took him up to surgery.”

“Want to help me out with my next case? I think it’s just a simple fracture.”

“...do you need my help?” Her mouth was twitching as she tried to hide a laugh.

Helping her untie the used smock (if he took the opportunity to slightly and subtly grope her, so be it) and throwing it away, he shrugged. “Well, you never know. Maybe it’s more serious and I just won’t be able to see it.”

“See, to me it sounds like you’re just flirting and trying to seduce a poor, innocent nurse.”

“Maybe I am, but do you have anything else urgent?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go with you.”

It did indeed look like a simple, straightforward break. They took the patient up to radiology. Certainly, both of them didn’t need to go, but the way Abby gasped when he surreptitiously ran his hand under her scrub top as he passed by her might have played a role in convincing her to “help.”

Once the patient was in with the radiology tech, Abby said she was going to get a few things from the supply closet while they waited, giving him a long look. Luka quickly offered to help. The tech rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but waved them away. “Just be back in like half an hour for the patient, okay? I’ll send the films down.”

He didn’t care, just hurried after his wife, following her into the supply room.

She was facing the door when he came in, and she wasted no time in flinging herself into his arms.

Meeting her lips with a quiet groan, he reached down to lift her up into his arms. He walked them back up against the counter, her legs wrapped around his hips.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she asked when they pulled back for a breath.

He cupped her jaw and lifted her lips to his in an all-consuming kiss. “I am,” he said.

Abby didn’t waste time disagreeing, reaching for him and fumbling with his belt. He tugged at her scrub pants, pulling them off as quickly as he could and bringing her to the edge of the countertop.

She succeeded in getting him free, and he moaned into their kiss as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him until he was fully hard.

Luka stepped between her legs and thrust into her without much preamble. He felt the familiar thrill of satisfaction at how Abby clutched at him, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wordlessly encouraging him to move.

He set a quick pace, knowing that as thrilling as the semi-public location was, every minute they continued they risked getting caught. He reached between them, trying to help Abby along. It didn’t take her much longer before she was gasping his name, pushing him over the edge after her.

With a sigh of regret, he pulled back from her after a minute or two, and they hurried to clean themselves up. When Abby reached for the door to head back out, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, giving her a lingering kiss.

He finally slipped out into the hallway when Abby yelped in surprise. Rushing out to see what had startled her, he started heading toward the elevator. Then he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat, and Luka turned to face a very disapproving Susan, standing with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

He could feel his entire body turning red. “I was, ah, I was grabbing something from storage.”

“I don’t want to know what the ‘something’ of Abby’s was. Anyway, one of your patients needs you, and the films are ready for your radial fracture.”

“Okay...I’ll...I’ll just go see to that.”

Susan sighed. “First, I’d make sure your shirt is buttoned properly, okay?”

He looked down. Sure enough, his buttons were askew.

“Just...no more...boffing at work, please.”

Luka nodded and fled as quickly as he could.

&&&

Abby was tending to a patient in sutures when she felt Luka slide behind her, his hand slipping down to give her hip a squeeze. She gave him what she hoped was a quelling look, but probably wasn’t. She couldn’t get enough of his hands and his answering smolder said he knew it. He apparently hadn’t gotten her into enough trouble today already.

Ugh, he shouldn’t be so attractive when he was smug. But dammit, he WAS, and he had REASON to be.

Still, there were protocols they ought to be observing at work. Silly ones, such as, oh, don’t have sex in the ER, and also, probably, don’t flirt and fondle each other in front of patients.

Abby was only a woman. One with a very handsome husband who enjoyed enticing her into breaking the rules. Repeatedly.

Luka efficiently checked the wound and asked for the suture kit, which Abby had at the ready. Haleh poked her head in to let her know she needed to change the IV on her diabetic patient.

“You good here?” She checked with Luka.

“I’ll miss you, but I’ve got this.”

She rolled her eyes at him as she ignored his grin and aimed to be stern with her reply.

“Behave, Dr. Kovač.”

He stared back at her with his eyes practically twinkling. Was he seriously turned on right now? Their earlier rendezvous was only a couple hours ago.

Abby watched him in disbelief before shaking her head and turning to go. On the way out, she heard the patient.

“So I guess that stuff about nurses and doctors is true, huh?”

Luka laughed at the older man in response.

“Well, in this case anyway. She’s my wife.”

The pride in his voice nearly made her turn around to kiss him.

&&&

A few hours later, Abby was standing at admit, listening to Carter read Dr. Greene’s letter. He sounded remarkably upbeat, considering. That was the power of getting away from County and sitting on a beach, she guessed. Or, more likely, he was doing it for their sakes, focusing on the positive. That sounded like something he would do.

Luka came over then, coffee mug in hand.

“What’s going on?” He bent toward her ear.

“It’s from Dr. Greene.”

Damn, the man was on the beach in Hawaii and longing for a trauma. “The day I start fantasizing about critical procedures is the day I leave, too.”

What followed sounded like a goodbye to all of them, and Abby guessed it was. She shifted so she could lean back against Luka. He slid a comforting hand onto her shoulder.

Carter stopped reading and Luka urged him to continue. “Go on.”

There wasn’t much left, just an endnote about his daughters finding a shell. Feeling a need to lighten the mood, Abby joked with Haleh about macadamia nuts. After a moment, she felt Luka tense, so she jerked up her head to look at him and followed his gaze to Carter. Oh god. She knew what he was going to say.

“What?” Susan knew, too, Abby could hear it in her voice, how her question wasn’t really a question.

Carter could hardly get the words out. No matter how weird things had been between them, she ached for her friend.

“This next part’s from Dr. Corday… ‘Mark died this morning.’”

&&&

The rest of the day was rough.

As much as Abby respected Dr. Greene and appreciated how gentle he was with patients and his coworkers, she hadn’t expected to feel personal loss when he died. But she did. Luka did too, she could feel it in how he gripped her briefly after they heard, could see it in the dark look in his eyes.

It wasn’t their tragedy, though, not really. So Abby tucked away her own shock and hurt over it and tried to comfort the ones who had known him longer and better.

After Carter faltered in the trauma with the dad from an MVA, she gave him a long look and followed him to the vending machines. He was moving forward, trying to get through the day, but his eyes showed how wrecked he really was.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. No. I…”

Abby tried to find the words to help him. They’d kept their distance when possible, ever since he’d found out about her marriage to Luka. Not out of guilt, but that day had made it clear that Carter had still had feelings for her. She could at least give him the space to get over it. Plus, he had really pissed her off.

None of that mattered at the moment.

“If you want to talk…”

“I can’t…not right now.” He closed his eyes. “Not...not because of you...I just need to put my head down to get through the rest of today.”

“Okay, you know where to find me.”

He nodded and started back toward admit.

Abby turned to see Luka coming toward her as she grabbed her soda.

“Is he okay?”

She looked up at him and gave a weak attempt at a smile.

“I don’t think anybody is today.”

“Yeah.”

He looked like he was going to say more, as he worked his jaw, but he thought better of it and put his arms around her instead. She buried her face in his chest and breathed deep, focusing on the smell of him and the warmth, his heartbeat thumping beneath her ear. A small shudder went through him before he relaxed, sighed and kissed her head, running his hand down her back.

“Susan wants to go out for drinks after work. What do you think?”

Luka pulled back to eye her carefully. “Will that be okay for you?”

Abby wanted to scoff and say of course, but made herself stop and consider.

“I think so. As long as you come too. I know you have to stay a little later, but I’ll be alright for a little while. I think...I think she really needs someone to be there tonight.”

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before answering.

“Okay, if you’re sure, I’d like to go. And we can leave whenever you need to, even if it’s as soon as I get there.”

The trust in his eyes loosened something inside her.

“Thanks, Luka. I don’t really want to go home by myself tonight either.”

Luka gave her another gentle squeeze before taking her by the hand and walking back toward admit. Carter was there, in front of the board, and she caught him looking at them. He looked away, his expression inscrutable.

“Let me know before you leave?”

“Yeah.”

She looked back to her husband and swiped her thumb across the back of his hand before letting go. Before she left, she would make a quick trip to OB to let Janet know her plans for the evening.

&&&

Abby and Susan had a quiet L ride and stroll to the Lava Lounge. It was an, um, interesting location for a wake. The tiki bar atmosphere made Abby feel even more depressed.

She wanted Luka. Taking a deep breath, she refocused on Susan. The others were supposed to trickle in soon, but it was just the two of them for the moment.

“I feel like asking how you’re doing is really stupid, so I’m just going to say you can talk to me instead. If you want to.”

Susan nodded and sipped at her enormous tropical drink.

“God, this sucks.”

“Yeah,” Abby agreed, swirling the straw of her club soda with lime.

She thought back to the sexual harassment seminar, and Carter’s insistence on Susan and Dr. Greene having feelings for each other. Susan had seemed genuine in her denial, and Abby hoped for her sake that she was. They must have been on the same wavelength because Susan started talking about it.

“Mark and I. We, uh, we never went out. That was true. But we did have feelings for each other, before. Neither of us said anything until I was leaving. I always kind of thought of him as the one that got away.”

“Wow, that...that sucks.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not still there. I fell in love with Dix, he fell in love with Elizabeth, and we both moved on. I just figured some things happen for a reason. But part of me can’t help but wonder what might have been different if we hadn’t. Or if nothing would have, and I’d be the widow trying to raise a baby and stepdaughter by myself.” Susan shuddered and took a big gulp.

Abby hadn’t been able to think of Corday all day without pain. She couldn’t help but imagine how hard this must be, especially with their separation. For a split second, she imagined losing Luka like that. She could barely breathe at the thought. How much worse the reality of it would be.

Luka. God. He’d gone through that, and so much worse. At least Corday still had Ella, still had her to love and care for. Damn, she needed to hold her husband.

Looking to her new friend, she tried to picture things from her perspective. If she and Luka hadn’t reconciled, and then he’d died...he would never have known she did care for him, she’d never have known he cared for her. What would she have needed to hear?

“I don’t know that I really believe in meant to be. But I do know that Dr. Greene and Corday loved each other. I know you were a good friend to him, and I am sure that meant a lot.”

“Yeah,” Susan answered hoarsely, wiping her eyes.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. You’re a good friend, you’re great with kids, you’re a great doctor, you’re pretty—you will find someone. It just wasn’t him.”

“Part of me feels...relieved that it wasn’t. You know? It hurts like hell just to lose my friend.”

“Yeah,” Abby whispered back.

Her own eyes watered as she watched Susan try to get herself back under control. It took a couple minutes of wiping her eyes with a napkin, taking deep breaths, and a gulp of her drink before she turned to Abby with a weak smile.

“Okay, enough of that for now. So, really, you don’t believe in fate or meant to be? Despite your newlywed, clearly cannot keep your hands or anything else to yourself phase?”

Abby flushed bright red. Had it really only been that morning that Susan had caught her and Luka trying to sneak out of radiology, obviously post-coital? It felt like a week ago.

“Uh...yeah...sorry about...that.”

Susan laughed a little. “I wish I could say you were the first, but at least I didn’t actually catch you in the act. Just make sure you’re always far away from the emergency call button. That’s how we caught Mark and Jennifer.”

Wow. Alright then. “Did that really happen?”

“Yep, we rushed in with the defibrillator and everything.” Susan laughed at the memory.

“That would be…” Abby couldn’t imagine living that down. They had to knock it off, or it was bound to happen. If it had been someone else who caught them, like Dr. Weaver, they probably wouldn’t still have jobs.

“Hey, I get it. I just can’t believe I never saw how much chemistry you two have before. It’s hard enough to work near you two sometimes, I’m sure it’s hard to hold back.”

Ha. If she only knew how many times Abby had held back.

“Yeah, it’s just...I think it would be easier if I did believe in fate. Because I still feel scared sometimes at how close we came to losing that.”

The vulnerability was uncomfortable, even though Susan had been just as open. She joked, trying to get back to safer ground.

“Plus, Luka’s really hot, so…I don’t know, can you blame me?”

Susan giggled at that and then burst into laughter as Abby joined her. It hadn’t been that funny, and the laughter was a bit hysterical, but it was a relief to release some of that tension.

“What’s this about?” In the commotion, Abby had missed Luka, Gallant and Haleh’s approach. She sighed and placed her hand on top of the one he laid on her shoulder, and she immediately felt grounded.

“Your sexual prowess,” Susan responded then cackled. Abby giggled at Luka’s horrified look and shook her head at him in answer.

The others sat down and Susan pulled herself together. Gallant went to grab drinks and Abby looked at Luka in question as he asked for a Coke. He merely winked in response and turned back to the conversation.

He didn’t have to do that, and she’d remind him later, but it was nice that he cared that much.

They all talked. Kerry and Sandy showed up, too. The others shared some memories, and they did some toasting. It was nice, but the melancholy started hitting Abby hard. She wasn’t exactly craving a drink, but she was becoming more and more aware of how easy it would be. With the day, the reminder that anything terrible could happen at anytime, to anyone, it would be so easy to slip. But Abby just wanted to go home and have Luka hold her. She settled for laying her head on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Her half-hearted smile didn’t fool him. He turned to the others.

“I guess we’ll see you all at work. We’re going to head home. Been a long day.”

They said their goodbyes and Abby stopped to share a sad smile with Susan. “If you need anything…”

“Thanks, Abby. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Luka wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she snuggled into him even as they walked toward the door side-by-side.

“Do you need to stop anywhere or call Janet or anything?”

She looked up at his earnest, eager-to-help face. There wasn’t a single trace of judgment there, and she wanted to kiss him for it.

“I just need you.”

Luka startled and looked down at her with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not like that, perv.” She smacked his arm, laughing. “I want to go home and crawl into bed and be held. Can we do that?”

He hummed in response and kissed her head.

“Absolutely.”

&&&

They nearly ran into Carter in the alley. He was heading in to the Lava Lounge, hands tucked into his pockets, lost in thought.

Luka narrowly avoided a collision, reaching out to grasp Carter’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Oh...no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He glanced over and saw Abby smile sadly at Carter. “It’s okay.”

The three of them stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Finally, Carter cleared his throat and broke the silence. “So...you two headed out?”

Abby nodded. “Yeah, it’s—well, it’s been a long day, and people are starting to drink, so we’re out, but pretty much everyone else is still inside, and they’d love to see you.”

“Haleh and Kerry both asked after you,” Luka said, squeezing Abby’s arm. God, he loved her. Loved how supportive she was, even when she was hurting too.

“Okay, thanks. Well, you two have a good evening.”

They told him good night and were continuing on their way when Carter called out, “Luka, wait.”

He looked over at Abby quizzically, and she shrugged in response. He patted her on the shoulder and turned back to face Carter.

Carter took a deep breath. “I—I know it’s belated and I should have said it sooner, but...congratulations. You two seem happy together.”

Huh. There was nothing like a reminder of the fleeting nature of life to bring things into perspective, Luka supposed. He stuck out his hand to Carter, who shook it with a brief smile. “Thanks. And...take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Will do. Thanks again.”

Carter made his way inside, and Luka hurried to catch up with Abby.

“What was that about?”

“He just...well, he said congratulations to us. I think it’s been a hard time for him.”

“A little late,” she said with a snort.

“Better late than never, eh?”

She beamed up at him and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Yeah, that’s true.”

[ebhenah]

Klancemas December 17: Decorating

 @monthlyklance

Klancemas 2018

"Candy Cane"

Dec 17: Decorating

(A future Klance-Family Fic)

CW: discussion of surgical repair of a badly broken bone

“I wanna go HOME,” Kashi grumbled, “I don’t like it here.”

“I know buddy, but that’s a bad break,” Lance said, ruffling the five year old’s hair, “and they might need to do surgery to fix it.”

“Am I gonna get a cool robot leg like Uncle Shiro’s arm?” His eyes danced with excitement at the thought.

“Ummm... no… and I’m pretty sure Uncle Shiro would have liked to be able to keep the arm he was born with.”

“Uhhhhh… Papi,” Kashi’s voice was… just far too condescending for a five year old. Someone was being a bad influence on his baby and he was gonna get to the bottom of it- as soon as life was back to normal. “Have you even SEEN Uncle Shiro’s arm? Cuz, it is like SUPER cool. He can open the fridge and get a drink from the couch! THE COUCH, Papi!”

“Hmmm…” he nodded thoughtfully, “yeah. That’s pretty cool. I know your regular old leg must seem pretty boring, but you aren’t getting a robot one. Sorry, dumpling.”

“Awww,” he deflated, flopping back dramatically and knocking his pillows to the floor and Lance had to shake his head at him, moving to restore the pillows to where they belonged.

Before he could say anything encouraging, the doctor popped into the room. “Mr. Um… Ko-gain?”

“Ko-gah-nee,” Kashi said patiently. “Ta-Kah-shi Ko-gah-nee… but everyone calls me Kashi.”

“I see,” the doctor said, “thank-you Kashi, but I was actually trying to speak with your dad. Mr. Ko- LANCE?!?!”

He looked up from where he’d been fussing over Kashi’s pillows. The doctor was a pretty woman. Tall, with honey brown hair and kind eyes, but he didn’t recognize her until she smiled, “oh my God! Xo!”

“Lance McClain,” she laughed, “wow- I was not expecting… Hi.”

“Hi,” he laughed, “this is… definitely a surprise!”

“Ummmm… Hi!” Kashi joined in, “Papi’s name’s not McClain, it’s Kogane.”

“Kashi, don’t be rude! Sorry, Xo… or I guess, I should call you Xiomara? I know you hated the nickname.”

“Yeah, I prefer Xiomara… Dios, it’s been… what? 15 years?”

“At least… closer to 20 I think. Wow… you’re a doctor. That’s amazing! Good for you!”

“Says the Paladin of Voltron,” she laughed, “Kashi- did you know that when your Papi was about your age, he tried to build his very own spaceship. He even named it!”

“He did?” Kashi was hooked, he ate up stories about his parents childhoods.

“Mmhmmm… it was… oh! I remember! Mirador De Estrellas,” she sat in the empty chair beside Lance, “not a bad name for a spaceship.”

“Dr. Marichal was very good friends with your Tia Rachel,” Lance explained, “so she was at our house a lot when I was your age.”

“I’m not allowed to say it, but Tia Rachel is my favorite,” Kashi chirped.

“Seriously Kashi? If you KNOW you aren’t allowed to say it, why did you say it right in front of me?” Lance threw his arms out in exasperation.

“I dunno,” Kashi just shrugged.

“Sorry about him,” Lance said, shaking his head slowly, “he’s… one of a kind.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets that,” she laughed.

“Tia Veronica is supposed to be my favorite,” Kashi explained, “cuz she grew me in her belly… but she’s too bossy… and Tia Rachel lets me eat raw cookie dough.”

“Takashi Kogane!” Lance gasped, horrified. “Please tell me this is from pain medication!”

She glanced at the chart, and looked sheepish, “sorry… unless he has an unusual response, none of the medications should cause… umm… this.”

Lance dropped his face into his hands, “Kashi, dumpling, you are killing your Papi right now.”

“At least we are in a hospital,” Kashi pointed out.

That made Xiomara choke back a laugh. “Oh man… I like this kid of yours, Lance. Should we go over the treatment plan while I get a look at Kashi here?”

“Yes, please,” he said, shooting Kashi a look.

“Right, so, it… could be worse, but we aren’t looking at an ideal situation.” She checked Kashi’s vitals as she spoke. “Ideally we would want to see a nice clean fracture that would be easy to set, pin in place and let it heal. But what we are looking at here is multiple close together breaks, so we definitely need to get him into surgery, and we will be needing to utilize some… uhh… new technology.”

“You mean alien tech,” Kashi said clearly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doctors hate to say that they are using alien tech… cuz of bigots. We’re not bigots. You can say alien tech.”

“Alright then, yes, alien tech,” she corrected, ducking her head and listening to his chest to hide her smile, “you know Kashi, most kids your age are afraid to say stuff like that to doctors. You’re a brave guy.”

“He is pretty… umm.. Outspoken, in general. But, his sister has Sandacies Syndrome,” Lance explained, “so we spend a lot of time around medical stuff… and most of her care is overseen by the Olkari.”

“Oh. I am very sorry, Sandacies is a tough diagnosis. How old is she?”

“Talia’s eight,” Lance answered, “and thanks. She’s doing really well, though.”

“Has Kashi been tested for Sandacies markers?”

“Talia’s adopted,” Kashi said, “so’s Rai, but me and Thace are surro-babies.”

“I see,” she said with a smile, “so, as I was saying- we’ll be using some new medical tech from Puig. It’s a biofoam. So, once we stabilize the break, we wrap a sleeve around the affected area, place the screws, and fill the sleeve with the biofoam. Over the course of a few weeks, Kashi’s own bone will replace the foam and he’ll be good as new. The surgery is pretty involved, though, and he’ll need to stay here for at least a week afterwards so we can monitor him. We don’t have a whole lot of information on how human dna interacts with this tech yet, so we like to keep a close watch.”

“A whole WEEK?!?! Papi! No!”

“Kashi, if it takes a week, it takes a week.”

“But… CHRISTMAS!”

The doctor looked confused, “Christmas isn’t for more than three weeks Kashi. You’ll be home by then.”

Lance shook his head, “no, he’s upset about missing out on the decorating. It’s his favorite part- putting up the trees and stuff. We help our friends with theirs so it’s kind of a whole thing.”

“Uncle Shiro said it was my turn to do the star this year, and Coran bought a TRAIN that goes IN the tree!” Tears were welling in the little boy’s eyes, “and I’m gonna miss Thanksgiving pizza!”

“Oh, Kashi,” any earlier irritation at him vanished and Lance drew his son into a tender hug. “I know, dumpling, but we need to fix your leg… and if the doctor says that’s how long it will take, then that’s how long it will take. I’ve known Dr. Marichal  since I was your age- she’s almost as smart as Pidge.”

“I HATE RAI,” he wailed against Lance’s chest, “this is all his stupid fault- pushing buttons and pickin’at stuff!”

The doctor checked her chart, “says here Kashi’s leg got caught in some kind of machinery?”

“Yes- he and his brother were poking around in Hunk’s workshop and getting into stuff they KNOW they aren’t supposed to touch. So, now the workshops are completely off limits to the kids. Poor Hunk is absolutely distraught.” He sat back on his heels and wiped the tears from Kashi’s face, “and so is RAI. He feels really bad that you got hurt, Kashi. You know he didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“But it DID, and it’s HIS fault! An’now I’m gonna be STUCK HERE when everyone else is doing fun Christmas stuff! Can’t Allura fix it with her glowy magic?”

“Kashi! Allura’s alchemy isn’t a first aid kit- she only uses it to heal in the most dire situations. You have a broken leg. We don’t need to use MAGIC to fix that.” That pout really shouldn’t be nearly as adorable as it was. As frustrated and worried as he was, Lance was struggling not to coo at his youngest- because he just looked soooo much like a tiny, angry Keith at the moment, with his furrowed brow and purple eyes and scowl. He stood, mussing up Kashi’s hair affectionately. “When should we expect the surgery?”

She glanced at the clock, “hmmm… technically it is emergency surgery because it wasn’t scheduled in advance, so he’ll be ranked for urgency and then as soon as possible. I would say it’ll be before the end of the day.”

“Surgery?” Keith asked from the doorway.

“Daddy!” Kashi wailed, sticking his arms out.

Keith rushed over and hugged him gingerly, pressing kisses to the top of his head and rubbing his little back. “I’m right here, kiddo,” he whispered, “Daddy and Papi aren’t going anywhere.”

“Keith, this is Dr. Marichal, she’s an old friend of Rachel’s, she’s in charge of Kashi’s case. Xiomara, this is my husband, Keith,” Lance returned to his seat, knowing that Keith wasn’t leaving Kashi’s side until they wheeled him off for surgery.

Keith extended his hand to shake hers, “it’s nice to meet you Dr. Marichal, you were saying he needs surgery?”

“Femur breaks are pretty serious,” she said with a nod before running through the surgical plan with him again.

“I’m gonna miss ALL the fun stuff,” Kashi sniffled.

“No, you won’t, precious,” Keith promised, “we’ll save lots of fun stuff for when you are home with us.”

“Shiro’s PIZZA… and Coran’s TRAIN…”

“I’ll talk to Shiro and Coran. I promise.” He pulled back and looked Kashi in the eye, “have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“No,” the little boy hiccuped.

“Right. So, I won’t break this one. I will talk to Uncle Shiro and Coran while you are getting your leg fixed up and I will find a way for you to not miss out on all your favorite stuff.”

“You promise?” he asked, hope blooming in his amethyst eyes.

“I PROMISE. Paladin’s honor.”

“Okay,” sniffled Kashi, “thank-you, Daddy.”

Lance smiled, he should have known that Keith would be able to put Kashi’s worries to rest. People were always surprised at just how good Keith was with kids. They assumed that he’d be awkward and standoffish with them the way he was with adults, but he wasn’t at all. Lance had yet to see a child that didn’t immediately take to Keith and he’d never seen a kid that Keith didn’t like.

“You don’t have to thank me, Kashi,” Keith soothed, “can you get those papers signed, Tumbleweed? I’m gonna chill out with our little guy for a bit.”

“Sure thing babe,” Lance answered, “alright Xiomara, where do I sign?”

“If you come with me, I’ll get you all set up with the paperwork,” she said nodding toward the door. He followed her to a little room that had a little table and a few chairs. It reminded him of signing the adoption paperwork for the twins. “I have to ask- ‘Tumbleweed’?”

He laughed, “ah... That… I took him on a romantic ice skating date. I thought it would be like rollerblading. I was wrong. He called me Tumbleweed because I couldn’t stay upright until  taught me how to ice skate… then he proposed that day, so it stuck.”

“Well, that is straight out of a Hallmark movie! Very cute. Definitely a keeper,” she said, laughing as she organized all the papers, “Kashi looks a lot like him.”

“Yeah, he’s just a lot like him, in general. Brave, stubborn… blunt,” he laughed, and pulled out his phone, bringing up a picture of all the kids, “Thace looks more like me… or, well… like Rachel, I guess.”

“That’s definitely YOUR smile on that little girl,” she laughed, and passed him the stack. He put the phone away and started scrawling his name on the flagged spots. She smiled at him, “I always get a kick of how much adopted kids end up looking like the people that raise them just because of expressions and mannerisms.”

“Yeah, it’s wild… and it carries over, too. Like, sometimes Rai will open his mouth and I SWEAR he’s channeling Shiro… who raised Keith. Family is…” He shrugged, “it’s a kind of magic, I think.”

“I like that, I might steal it to help reassure parents.” She sat in one of the chairs across from him, “you have a beautiful family, Lance. I’m glad I got to meet some of them- although it could have been under better circumstances.”

“I’m sure you will meet the others in the next couple of days,” he laughed, “we’ve got the whole hospital visitation thing down to an art.”

“So… ummm… Kashi said Veronica carried him? How is she doing?”

He glanced up at her between signatures, “are you sure you want me to answer that?”

“Yes… I mean… I think so… Just.. don’t tell me if it is bad,” she blushed, “I don’t want to know if it isn’t good.”

“Roni is great,” he answered, “she pretty much runs the world- although no one seems to have noticed yet. She’s single right now… but she’s got a couple of on again off again things, so that could change.”

“Good. That’s… good. I’m glad she’s doing well. She deserves it.”

“Want me to tell her you say hi?” he asked, signing the last line and returning the pages to a neat stack.

She gave him a wistful smile as she took the paperwork, “yeah. Yeah, tell her I said hi… and give my love to the family.”

“Will do.”

“You are such a charmer,” Keith whispered, wrapping his arms around Lance. “He’s going to be so excited to see this!”

“You were the one that had the idea AND arranged everything,” Lance chuckled, leaning back against his husband, and resting his hands on top of Keith’s. “All I did was convince the nurses to look the other way about the number of visitors.”

Trudy, one of the nurses, poked her head into the room, “he’s awake. They’ll be bringing him down any minute. Everything looks great.”

“Thanks so much,” Lance said.  He could FEEL the worry and tension drain out of Keith’s frame. “Babe- it’s a broken leg. He’s fine.”

“It’s a broken FEMUR and he needed surgery, Lance.”

“He’s five and still growing. He’ll be back to driving everyone bonkers before you know it.” He turned in Keith’s arms, “you are such a worrywart when it comes to the kids. It’s cute.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “this again?”

“Mmhmm… my husband is CUTE.”

“Lannnnnce… quit it.”

“CHECK OUT MY CAST! IT LOOKS LIKE A CANDY CANE!!”

They both laughed as Kashi was wheeled into the room. Sure enough the fiberglass cast that encased his leg was red and white candy-cane striped. Lance had to remind himself to breathe when he saw the metal frame and the screws that disappeared into the fiberglass- even though he’d known they’d be there, even though he knew they weren’t hurting his little boy.

“Very festive,” Keith said with an encouraging nod.

“See, dumpling? I told you that Xiomara was awesome. How are you feeling?”

“My skin feels tickle-y and I’m thirsty,” Kashi answered, “but my leg doesn’t even hurt!”

“Are you up to more visitors?”

“Sure- is Tia Rachel here? She can see her friend!”

“Sorry bud, no Rachel,” Keith answered as Lance ducked out of the room to gather the others.

A few minutes later Shiro, Coran, Thace, Talia, Krolia, Allura, and Romelle came into the room, carrying boxes of assorted sizes. A chagrined Rai and weeping Hunk followed and made a beeline to the little boy, tripping over each other to be the first to apologize. Hunk was barely coherent until Kashi patted his back and assured him that it wasn’t Hunk’s fault and he wasn’t mad.

Rai didn’t even speak- not that he was a particularly talkative child- and Lance suspected he didn’t trust himself not to cry. Rai HATED hospitals, always had, but he had insisted on being here for the entire duration of the surgery. He climbed up onto the bed beside his little brother and gingerly wrapped his arm around him while they both glared at spots on the bed somewhere in the vicinity of their knees.

Silent tears spilled out of Rai’s eyes and he dug his hand into the big pocket in the front of his hoodie, pulling out a sloppily wrapped rectangle and handing it to Kashi. Kashi took the gift and cautiously tore the paper off of it to reveal Rai’s handheld gaming system. “What?”

“Gets boring in hospitals,” Rai muttered, “and they keep saying you’re too little, so you can have mine. S’my fault you’re hurt and stuff.”

“You’re GIVING me this???” Kashi’s eyes were so huge they looked like they’d fall right out of his head.

Rai just nodded, not looking up. “M’sorry.”

“Rai, it was an accident,” Kashi said after a moment. “Wasn’t on purpose.”

“You were so mad,” Rai whispered, “said you hated me.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Lance had to bite his tongue to keep from chiding Kashi about calling his brother stupid, but he managed. He knew they needed to work this through on their own.

“Your cast looks like a candy cane… can I be the first one to sign it?”

“Sign it?”

“That’s what you do with casts, bud,” Thace said, earning ‘cool big brother points’ as Kashi’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“Definitely,” confirmed Keith.

“I’ll see if the nurses have any markers!” Talia was already out the door before she finished speaking.

“Cooooool! Hey! What’s in all the boxes?”

“Well,” said Shiro, “you always help us make our places ready for Christmas, so this year, it’s our turn to help YOU.”

“We brought you a little tree,” Allura added.

“And ornaments,” said Romelle.

“I found some battery-powered lights for your room, sweetheart,” Krolia added.

“And I thought that you might want to have a train running on the tree-gown-”

“-tree-SKIRT, Coran,” Lance chuckled.

“Yes, of course! I thought you might enjoy having a train running on the tree-SKIRT until you come home,” Coran finished, twirling his moustache.

“I get to decorate my hospital room?” Kashi was floored, he didn’t know where to look, his big eyes darting from person to person. “Really?”

“Really,” Keith confirmed.

“And Tia Pidge will be here soon with a little Thanksgiving pizza for you and I to share,” Shiro said as he ruffled Kashi’s hair, “if you feel up to eating.”

“Best. Day. Ever!” squealed the five year old, the prospect of decorating his hospital room seeming to have completely overpowered the reason that he was in one in the first place.

Talia returned with two fistfuls of colorful markers and started handing them out to people as Allura and Shiro began unpacking the boxes and organizing the contents.

By the time Lance was able to get close enough to his son to sign the cast and give him a hug and kiss, the room was looking very festive. Keith and Shiro were singing carols. Rai was showing Kashi all the best games on his system. Thace and Pidge cutting red and green construction paper into strips that Hunk was stapling into a long chain.

They’d attracted the attention of some of the other kids on the ward and a few of the more mobile and energetic ones had joined in on their fun. Allura had quietly ducked out to visit the kids who weren’t up to it. The Paladins, in general, had a certain amount of fame, even now, but Allura, the Alien Princess, was a bonafide celebrity.

“This was definitely a stroke of genius,” Lance whispered to Keith, “you’ve saved his Christmas.”

“I made a promise,” Keith answered, his voice matter of fact.

“I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too, Tumbleweed.”