#i wonder where we will be surgery wise in a couple more years

[switchytransboy]

damn bottom surgery would be so dope if it didn’t involve an entire life savings, a list of potential risks of things that could go wrong or not work after, and was more perfected and safe

it’s like i want it until i research again more and get so discouraged at the process, the pain, the money, the time it takes, the risks.

i don’t even feel the strongest need to have a dick for sex, i just have a squirrel bladder and it would be incredible to pee wherever whenever without troubles LMAO

[colorisbyshe]

Hey! I just found some of your posts bc I was searching scleral buckle in the search bar… you had one post that said retinal detachment is usually for people in their 50s+ but I am 27 so heeeeyy ❤️ I just had surgery last Wednesday and was wondering how things are for you since it seems like it’s been like 10 or so months since you had yours done? Maybe im wrong idk but I literally do not know anyone irl with this, or online either. Hoping for some words of advice and also maybe to hear that there’s light at the end of this horrible thing im going through rn

Hi!

It’s actually been a couple of years since my surgery, I got mine riiiight as hospitals were getting overcrowded and restrictive cause of Covid so it’s been a hot second!

In the immediate wake of my surgery, I had double vision. A freak out about puss that had me going to my specialist just to affirm that it’s okay. And I hated the recovery period and spent time trying to remove the arm off al old pair of glasses so I could lie on my side and watch tv lol. I wasn’t in a good place, it sucked. Eye horror affected me very badly for the first ~2 years because the sight of my scarred eye freaked me out

But most of the awful bits were over within a month, maybe bits lingered for two but I honestly don’t remember.

As for longterm consequences, my right eye (that experienced the holes/detachment) is slightly worse than my left eye prescription wise but it’s not a major difference. Some peripheral vision is weaker in the sense that there are small patches at are a bit blurry. I can feel a bump where the incision was when I’m rubbing my eye sometimes.

And when I’m suuuper tired or my eyes are suuuper dry (which happens more often now but I might just be aging lmfao), sometimes the dread Black Curtain around the edge of my eye sight comes back. My specialist says it’s fine.

I went from monthly check ups to every three months to every six months but I will likely be going to some specialist at least yearly, if not twice a year, for the rest of my life.

But otherwise… life is normal. My eye doesn’t look weird, though they’re never been even even before this. I can read with both eyes open or even with my good eye closed, though perhaps the text is SLIGHTLY blurry. I can drive safely. No more holes have appeared.

Just don’t do anything that will involve potentially hitting your head. Head injuries, even mild ones, are high risk. That said I went on some roller coasters that threw my head about and I’m fine. I have no other advice—listen to your surgeon and know it’ll be okay on the other side.

We are higher risk in general for some issues down the line but four years in I haven’t hit ‘em yet so. I think we’re both gonna be okay for a while yet!

[genesv]

overly nice closure message to someone who was abusive

Thank you for allowing me the space I asked for. 

I hesitated responding to this, but feel I should clarify something that feels oversimplified and speak my truth. 

It’s not only about how consistently you respond. The hot/cold thing feels like a symptom of something else- a pattern of jumping to the worst conclusions about me or how I perceive you, and then reacting as a way of defense mechanism. A few concrete examples of a pattern from my POV: (I don’t presume to know your inner thoughts. This is just how I’ve experienced our interactions)

- Grad show, when you told me that you thought I “hated” you the whole time even though I was not thinking about you at all. Was very surprised by this, because I���d been going through a lot and was engrossed in my personal problems (major surgery/life-changing diagnosis/family legal troubles/family eviction from home of 20 years/interviews/real cancer scare, etc. just to give you an idea). In fact, I’d only thought of you fondly as one of my friends and assumed we weren’t talking as much because you were just as preoccupied as me. I racked my brain to think of an interaction that would lead to that and came up with nothing. I brushed it off then but it made me wonder when more signs started to show. “Hate” is a strong word to describe a relationship, especially when nothing noteworthy happened. If you believed I hated you, were you preemptively hating me while I was blissfully unaware? What will make you think I “hate” you again?

- Small things like suddenly getting angry and even snapping at me when I say or do things I think are innocuous, e.g., when I invited you to Fair HQ to hang. Told you that I was finished with a soup we were sharing and you didn’t have to get spoons for us. I was only trying to save you the trouble of getting spoons when you didn’t need to, and was pretty confused when you didn’t believe me and suddenly became angry and a bit condescending. Then you went right back to normal after, and we never addressed it afterward which also left me feeling uneasy. Sometimes I get the feeling that there’s anger and aggression bubbling underneath the surface for things I don’t see and expect. 

- All the sudden 180s in our conversations where you’ll ghost me when I say something that I think are normal things to share with your friends. Brushed off a couple times until it began to feel less accidental, and started to wonder if there was a pattern forming. I unintentionally anger or trigger you -> you stonewall -> you feel better/start needing companionship -> and the cycle continues. Or you accidentally ignore me -> you think I hate you -> you start treating me differently 

I feel I’ve tried to show you that I think of you as a friend, and every time I make a “misstep” that I’m not even aware of, I’m suddenly unwelcome/even an enemy. It makes me feel that every small interaction with you is tiptoeing around a small bomb. Did I say the wrong thing? What did I do wrong? 

If you’ve felt that efforts to reach out have been one-sided, it’s because I’ve been cautious about interacting with you. I feel that the last few years have been and continue to be tumultuous, and my mental health has come to require a lot of trust, gentleness, stability, and transparency in my relationships.

I also want you to know that I genuinely have zero ill will towards you. I feel that both can be true at the same time: We can be decent human beings trying our best who are worthy of dignity, compassion, and respect, and not be a good fit mental health-wise right now. I still root for you because I know and relate to your story and the battle scars you have from the toxic environment we both came from. I think of you as a gorgeous badass who’ll do great things in your life and career. 

I hope you know that I’m being honest and transparent with how I feel, because I still relate to you in some fundamental ways and know I’d appreciate the honesty, esp. if I'd hurt someone unintentionally. I hope you understand that my decision to create more distance between us comes from a place of necessity for my mental health and not out of a place of hatred and judgment for you

[reidsaurora]

babes are you okay?? why you have surgery? (if you're okay with me asking ofc) :(

hi, rups!!! thank you so much for checking in! i am so sorry i'm just now getting a chance to answer this, it's been a long and busy day for sure 🤣❤️

i was gonna say long story short but i feel like there's just no way to tell this story in a short version so buckle up! there will probably be a lot of reading 🤣 also i'm gonna highlight the important words just in case that will help to explain the important parts of this extremely long story 💀

so back in 2015, i got diagnosed with crohn's disease, which is basically where you can inflammation anywhere in the lining of your digestive tract, so anywhere from your mouth to your booty. mine has always been throughout different places in the digestive tract.

that being said, very soon after my crohn's diagnosis, i was diagnosed with something called hidradenitis suppurativa, which is basically just a bunch of lumps and tunnels in the skin... and they can pop up anywhere. the armpits, the sweat glands, the underboobs, the 🐱 area... yeah, anywhere. and i was blessed with the ones in ✨️the land down under✨️

so, i've had all these lumps and tunnels for over seven years. some of them have calmed down, some have popped up in new places (my armpits are now involved but that's a different story for a different day), and some of them unfortunately turned into fistulas. according to Google (just bc it's kinda hard for me to describe on my own), a fistula is basically a connection/tunnel through an organ to either another organ or the skin.

i have two fistulas, one from my 🐱 area to the rectum (i think, everything's been such a haze, i'm having trouble remembering how all this works), and then one from the skin to the ah noos (pls lmk if i need to explain this joke or if you get it ���).

all that being said, i had to have something called a seton placed in both of these fistulas. a seton (i've been told) is sort of like a really thin rubber band that goes throughout the fistula like a tube to keep it open and draining, in hopes of drying up everything in the fistula to hopefully close it off in the future.

some setons are placed there for weeks to months. however, my surgeon has told me that because of how advanced my fistulas are (because one of them has been there for a couple years and we didn't have the money because medical expenses are awful in america), it may take longer than that for mine to heal. his hopes (yes... i had a grown man stick his fingers in my unmentionables 🥲) are that this is not the case, but he did warn me just in case that does happen.

the good news is that i've FINALLY!!! found a new gastroenterologist (the dudes that check up on the crohn's related stuff) after moving out of peds (the kiddo docs) over a year ago. i've met this doc twice and i already love him. he's so kind and so attentive and extremely smart, just an all around great doctor. anyway, he is extremely knowledgeable about my situation and fistula care and all that jazz so i have lots of hope that he will be able to help me through this, as well as my surgeon. my surgeon is also an amazing guy and is extremely good at his job as well.

now, to make a long story short. i had to have emergency surgery because fistulas are awful in the first place and mine are apparently even worse.

again, thank you so very much for checking in! if any of you guys have any other questions, feel free to send me an ask or a DM! i would love to help out as much as i can!

also! my wonderful friend @reidsbookclub (who is a medical student btw!!) has said that she could answer anyone's questions that i could not answer, if you guys have any questions about this procedure medical-wise that she might have more knowledge on. thank you so much, grecy! 💛

lastly, i would like to thank you again, rups for checking in on me! i honestly was just using this as a way to rant, i was never expecting anyone to see it on their tl or even read it because there's been a lot of lengthy, annoying posts about it at this point 🤣

so thank you for checking up and seeing if i was ok! i think i will be with time ❤️

[cowboyjen68]

Recently I’ve been debating getting top surgery. I know that some butches get top surgery and seem happy with the results but I’ve also met some who grew out of their discomfort with time. So I guess I’m debating if I should wait to see if maybe the discomfort around my chest will ease with age or if I should look into getting top surgery. The ones I’ve talked to also had this discomfort about their breast growing during puberty but they said after some time it decreased but for mines it seems like a problem that hasn’t gone away.

I am so sorry for the delay, seems work and side gigs are taking up a lot of my time lately. 

I can only speak from my experience with my body and from other lesbians I talk to... and I talk to a lot. I have many friends across generations. Many of my younger friends are butch but not all. My older friends are a myriad of types of lesbians and as diverse as the greater population. This weekend now that we are all vaccinated we had a campfire with 12 lesbian, 5 butches present. We have definitely had discussions about our breasts, discomfort, and the mourning over loosing breasts to cancer (or the danger of cancer).  Most of my buddies, from 19 to 68 share similar stories about learning to be at least “okay” with their bodies in a world where our physical attributes are often used to define our personality, and our worth. 

One thing we ALL share, as women, not just lesbians, is that we were at best dissatisfied that we have breasts starting as soon as they begin to form. I was 7 when mom told me I had to wear a shirt outside. Wow was I pissed. AND as a 7 years old I knew it had nothing to do with me but everyone seemed just fine with the fact that men were the issue but since we can’t change them we must change our own behavior.

 I remember thinking “how is me not wearing a shirt a problem”. Breasts had been neutral for me at that point. Just another part of my body. Once I realized “they” made me different, more vulnerable, more controlled, less “human” than those around me without breasts I turned my hate on my body instead of the people who really were to blame. Just like I was taught, I can’t control the men but I perhaps I could control my body. 

I have raised at least 10 teenage daughters (2 are lesbians now) my youngest adopted is 15 and when her other mom told her to put on a shirt in the summer of her 8th birthday, even in our rural yard she looked at me dead in the eye and said “why haven’t you fixed this yet?” (meaning women’s bodies being subject to the eyes and opinions of men). I wonder.. why haven’t we? She is the youngest, but all the others grew from hating their breasts to at least neutral, some really love their bodies and that is lovely. 

Lesbians are unique in our dealings of men’s opinions because we never need or want the approval of men in relation to our bodies. The opposite in fact.. we would prefer they see us void of anything they find sexual. Many women, straight, bi, lesbian eventually either learn to give no shits about the opinions of men or they learn to work around that feeling.

Ok.. all that being said, my story. My breasts are B cups, perhaps C’s when I was a bit heavier weight wise. I wore regular bras WITH padding and always as tight as a could to make them less noticeable. When I came out i switched to sports bras because i was embracing being butch and no longer wanted to play the game of wearing  “pretty bra” . I never wore tight shirts, always baggy. I wore the tightest bra I could wear to keep my breasts smaller, less visible. FOR YEARS. 

Going to a women’s festival opened my eyes to the many ways bodies can be. The many ways BUTCH bodies can exist. Women went topless and NO one sexualized them. (except when appropriate-- like while flirting etc when it was welcomed). Thousands of people, many topless and no one, not one person was oogled, cat called, teased, or otherwise treated as different than someone wearing a shirt.  What did they all share? Why was it different than in other places? Women. All women and mostly lesbians. However that did not automatically translate to “I am going back to the real world and giving no fucks about the reality of existing with breasts in our world”. It took time.

I no longer wear a bra just an undershirt. BUT I am in control of where I go, who I interact with most of the time. If I was still at my retail job, I’d probably still wear a bra. I no longer dislike my breasts. I love them. They bring me pleasure, they bring my girlfriend pleasure. They are a lovely part of me BUT that does not mean I am not very aware in public of my nipples being visible or of people noticing I am braless. And I imagine it is harder for women with larger breasts. 

Had binders been a “thing”, had I had access to a double  mastectomy, or the idea of it i cannot say that would have pursued either. The pattern suggests I would have. But again., neither were on my radar, not options presented to me or encouraged as a way to solve my discomfort.

 I have  three friends who have had elective double mastectomies. And many who had one to prevent or remove cancer. Several of them suffer consistent and painful nerve damage that is not treatable, is quite common, is unpredictable (they can’t know who will have it) and possibly life long. Of the three who were trying to alleviate the distress of dysphoria, all three regret the decision and none of them are over 30 yet. These women are all lesbians. Those who had the surgery because of cancer are thrilled to be happy and alive with less worry, although they do deal with nerve issues and mourn the loss of a part of their body. 

I have a few trans men friends, although we are not close. A  couple of them have had double mastectomies but their thoughts or feelings have not come up, we are just not close enough for such a personal discussion and none have had the surgery for more than 2 years.  I have had lots of older lesbians friends (and a few younger) who did get breast reduction surgery and their health and mental health were both improved. Their backs are better, their clothes fit better and they feel more active, less self conscious with out the physical risks of a full mastectomy. 

The easy answer and what I WANT to say, is be patient, find lots of older lesbians friends to show you your body is neutral, men are the problem. Give yourself time to understand that your breasts are as butch as the rest of you. They are a natural part of your body and how you are meant to be. Also, I know there is not an easy answer. Men will continue to exist. They will continue to sexualize lesbians (with or without breasts). I didn’t outgrow wishing my breasts could just disappear(in public settings) until my 40′s but it got easier and easier to sort of “live with it”. I am many times over grateful for my healthy breasts now. 

Seek therapy.. and not someone who will just go along with what ever you say. My therapists works me hard. She makes me answer the hard questions. She has me vocalize things that I don’t even want to admit in my head let alone out loud. Find one like that. Find one who is willing to explore all the reasons your breasts cause you distress. Then, if you decide to proceed, you can do so knowing you were worth the hard work and you can feel more confident in making an informed decision. Don’t make any decisions based on the opinions of men. Your body. YOUR decision. Write that down on a post it and keep it somewhere you will see it. 

If you would like to speak to some others who are struggling with how you feel or want to talk to lesbians who can tell you about their double mastectomies, DM me, perhaps I can connect you. 

If  anyone wants to add their experience in the notes please be kind. No judgement for anyone making such a difficult decision. 

One last thing to this long post. From one butch to another.  I care about you and I am saddened and angry at  bull shit you have to wade through in this world. I get it. You are not alone. 

[daisugababy]

i'm not the same anon who sent you all those asks just want to make that clear before i say what i have to say. i read your responses to these asks and i'm sorry but i have to call you out on what i perceive as hypocrisy. i don't know that you remember that or if it was someone else with a similar url to yours but either way you co-signed the idea that nico was "flirting" with josh, the patient he lost and at the time nico and levi were going strong and committed to one another

Bro, I literally don't know what you're talking about?? In what part of fandom have you been chillin? i asked @schmico-ing @glassesandkim and @pb-nj and none of them have encountered this kind of discourse/idea either. I have never heard about Nico flirting with Josh??? A patient??? While his boyfriend is right next to them, complaining about Nico possibly leaving for that new job?? When would Nico have flirted with Josh? I'm genuinely so confused my dude. Where did you read that? On tumblr dot com? No hate towards you, I am genuinely asking.

i don't know that you remember that or if it was someone else with a similar url to yours but either way you co-signed the idea that nico was "flirting" with josh

i'm pretty sure i didn't co-sign shit. i even checked an di did not entertain once the thought of a josh/nico flirting situation. fandom clown @glassesandkim said they had chemistry, but i'm pretty sure she didn't say that they were actually flirting with each other right in front of Levi, Bailey and Josh's grandpa. That would be really fucking weird.

i remember this clearly happening in the schmico fandom because everyone was trying to justify nico's actions by saying he was grieving

Yes, he was grieving. Because he fucking killed a 21 year old kid due to making a mistake during surgery. There's a difference between losing sb you (barely) know aside from work and making a mistake that kills someone. Nico. killed. someone. He's the reason this 21 old is dead. That shit is traumatizing. Everybody handles trauma differently.

so yeah i'm sorry but it comes across a bit hypocritical to get up in arms about levi entertaining the idea of another guy whenever he and nico are officially broken up and only hooking up

It was pretty clear that they were not broken up anymore, since Nico asked 'so did we break up or...?' While, infuriatingly, we didn't see them get back together onscreen, it is implied that they were back to being a couple. (This is also one of the main issues with Schmico. A lot of things are just implied to have happened through side comments. It makes it more difficult to follow their barely there storyline.)

and to finish off my thoughts on all this levi and nico were not only broken up but levi had been broken up with specifically because nico didn't want to open up, didn't even wanna talk at all

Nico told Levi he couldn't talk about this issue, but Levi kept on pressuring him. This is not the first time that Levi did so, so Nico will open up. Levi clearly did not respect Nico's boundaries and didn't give him the time to process, because he made Nico's trauma about himself. Repeatedly.

this wasn't a mutual split. so i can understand having a bit of emotional whiplash from going to being dumped to fuck buddies to in love and let's move in together.

I get what you mean, but again, Grey's relies heavily on implications when it comes to Schmico. And from them sleeping together (actual sleeping) and comforting each other (the on-call room scene + hand holding in public), it was kinda implied that they were just back together. But tbh I was also still confused until Nico said his 'did we break up or...' line.

i just don't understand why it's ok for nico to run from levi/push him away, last out at him whenever he is hurting/confused/going through it but levi has one second of hesitation, of wondering what it might be like to have an uncomplicated thing with a guy and we're ready to crucify him

Again, Levi kept pestering Nico about opening up. He acted like Nico not being ready to talk about his problems/trauma was a direct attack on him. This wasn't about Nico not trusting him, but Nico just not being to talk about it in general. If you can't respect your partner not wanting to talk about things that don't even involve you personally, then maybe you're not mature enough to be in a relationship. There's always a time and a place to talk about deeply traumatizing things, but I assure you, work is not that place.

My main issue here is just that Nico has always been so, so supportive of Levi. He gave him pep talks, hyped him up, stood by his side whenever Levi needed him, because he knew how to support him. Levi tried to comfort Nico the way he would've wanted to be comforted. But Levi never knew how to do that for Nico and he never asked.

I'm not crucifying Levi, I'm just annoyed, because relationship wise, from what we've seen, Levi is pretty selfish. He barely made any effort to learn how to be there for Nico, it has always been the other way around, always Nico adjusting to Levi's needs.

And yet, Nico always ends up as the bad guy... Hmmm... Very strange.

[kayla47]

Faith and Certainty

Patrick waits and worries. Some words of wisdom show him where he needs to be. Episode addition to S6x08, set between Patrick's telephone conversation with Sister Julienne and his arrival at home.

Sister Winifred stepped through the doors of Kenilworth Row maternity home to be greeted by the peaceful silence of late afternoon. The bustle of arriving visitors had passed leaving just the gentle murmur of voices behind the closed doors of the ward and the occasional piercing cry of a newborn. Surgery having ended, the reception area was in semi darkness being lit by a single desk lamp and the last low rays of pale winter sunshine slipping through the window blinds. Hanging her coat on the rack in the corner she proceeded up the steps at the far end of the reception area. The open doors on either side of the corridor revealed empty rooms and the promise of a peaceful night shift ahead of her.

Light spilled from the doorway of the Doctor's office. She approached with the silent footsteps common to all the religious sisters, her arrival going unacknowledged by the man sitting behind the desk. His elbows were on the desk, his head resting in hands whose fingers curled through his tousled dark hair. Sister Winifred couldn't tell if he had noticed her in the doorway so spoke softly to avoid startling him.

"Doctor?"

His head shot up and he frowned as if trying to recall where he was or what he should be doing.

"Sister? Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if there was any news from Sister Julienne? How are things progressing with Mrs Turner?" She was aware that the Sister had been called to attend their most precious mother-to-be and was anxious for reassurance that all was as it should be.

Patrick gave a half smile that was quickly replaced by a frown.

"Sister Julienne said that everything was 'ticking over very nicely' but she wouldn't let me speak to Shelagh and that was some time ago." He glanced at his watch with a sigh.

After a slight hesitation Sister Winifred walked fully into the room closing the door behind her and took a seat at the desk opposite the doctor. The man was clearly worried about his wife and she wanted to offer him some comfort but wondered if she was being presumptuous, they had been colleagues for nearly four years but although she had developed a close friendship with Shelagh in that time the same couldn't be said for her friend's husband. Nevertheless she felt she had to try. Wringing her hands together she took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"Everything is fine, I'm certain of it. If it wasn't Sister Julienne would have let you know."

Patrick opened his mouth to speak but Sister Winifred interrupted him.

"Doctor, in our work we see so many problems and even the occasional disaster but we also see far, far more births that are trouble free with a happy, healthy outcome for both mother and baby. I know you had a scare early on but Shelagh has been perfectly well in all her checks since then and baby has been developing normally, there's no reason to anticipate any difficulties - a textbook mother and baby in fact." She smiled warmly at him.

Patrick sighed and a little of the tension seemed to leave his body. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"I know that but it's hard not to think of everything that could go wrong, these things so often come with no warning."

"They do, but not this time", Sister Winifred stated with conviction.

Patrick gave her a quizzical look.

"You can't know that."

"There are many things in this life that I can't know but that I believe with all my heart," she answered with a beaming smile.

"I wish I had your faith, Sister. If anything were to happen to this baby I don't know how Shelagh would go on and I don't see how I could survive if I lost her." He leant back in his chair, blinking away the tears that threatened and swallowing hard as he attempted to control his emotions.

"Faith doesn't always come with certainty, Doctor, you should know that more than most."

The questioning tilt of his head encouraged her to continue.

"Last year I suffered a period of doubt. Sister Julienne had sent me to help at the school when one of the teachers left suddenly. It reminded me how much I loved teaching and left me questioning whether I was really called to nursing. Shelagh somehow sensed that I was struggling and one afternoon when we were alone I found myself pouring my heart out to her. She was really quite wonderful," the nun smiled wistfully at the memory, "I could tell that she didn't like to talk about it but she told me how confused and alone she felt before she left the Order. She explained how her call to the religious life had been so strong that when she felt an equally powerful call to leave she was left doubting her ability to recognise what God wanted from her. Shelagh's faith is as strong now as when she first came to Poplar but she told me that certainty only came when she opened her heart to the love growing within her. She said that's when she came to realise that God wanted another path for her." She paused briefly before continuing. "I felt then, and I still do, that she was wrong."

Patrick shot upright turning an angry glare on the Sister. She raised a hand and cut him off before he could speak.

"Not wrong to leave the Order but wrong in thinking that she was taking a different path. It seems to me that this was just another turn in the same path, the path that had led her to the Order, to Nonnatus House and, ultimately, to you. You and Timothy needed her, God knew that and the Order was the door that He opened to bring her to you."

The anger left Patrick and for the first time in hours his face relaxed into a warm smile.

"We did need her. We still do."

"Yes, and she needs you too, that's why I'm so certain that all will be well with Shelagh and the baby. You and Shelagh have what everyone in this world is searching for Doctor, the certainty that you are just where you are meant to be, in the place that is the perfect fit, where you are loved for everything that you were and are and can be. God knows how much you all need each other and He hasn't finished with you yet. You all have so much love still to give, the way you opened your hearts and home to Angela is proof of that. This baby is God's thank you gift to your family for accepting the path He's sent you down."

Still smiling, Patrick nodded and got to his feet. As he walked around the desk Sister Winifred rose to meet him.

"You're a wise woman, Sister Winifred, and I think this conversation may be one of the reasons God brought you to Poplar. Thank you." He took her hands in his, squeezing them gently in gratitude. Sister Winifred blushed red under his warm gaze.

"If that's true then it's God you need to thank." Composing herself she took a step backwards as he released her hands. "Now, surgery's over, why aren't you home with your wife?"

"Because she didn't want me to be at the delivery. She wanted us to be just like any other couple." Patrick sighed, resigned to following his beloved wife's wishes but still not fully understanding them.

Sister Winifred shook her head.

"I've seen many marriages in the course of my work, Doctor Turner. Some are just a companionship, some are filled with love and some have no love at all. I've never seen a couple more bound by love, more meant for each other than you and Shelagh. You're not like any other couple and you both know it. Go home Doctor, be there when she remembers how much she needs you to hold her. Go home and be there with her to welcome the gift that God is giving you." She took his coat from the hook on the door and held it out to him.

Patrick didn't need telling twice. With a nod and a grin he grabbed the coat from her and dashed out. His parting call of "Thank you, Sister" echoed down the corridor as the surgery door slammed behind him.

Sister Winifred allowed herself a moment to offer a brief prayer of thanks to the Almighty for helping her to find the words to comfort the Doctor before hurrying off to start her shift. She couldn't help feeling that perhaps she had already done her best work of the night.

Notes:

This is my first ever story in the CTM fandom (and the first of any variety that I've written for many years). I adore CTM in general and Turnadette in particular. This 'fill the gap' story started going round in my head and in the end I couldn't resist the urge to write it down.

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 1

For @wolfgeralt as a little ‘thank you’ for his stunning art -which I really adore, you can see it here: (x)

and for @hecky-heckicravedeath (x) who gave me inspiration for this fanfiction. Also Thanks @3tothe1 for being my beta. (You’re such a sweetheart, and I love you so much)

Anyway,  I hope you like it, my dear Witchlings! 💛

I present you: NURSE GERALT!  

Chapter 1 Word Count: 2461

ao3: (x) 

Chapter 2 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 3 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 4 Tumblr Link: (x)

When Geralt arrives for his shift, still feeling exhausted from yesterday, he has no idea what’s waiting for him at the hospital. His days are never too ordinary because you never know what you’ll come across.

That’s a part of being a nurse.

But he could never think that one of the not-so-famous musicians, his daughter, Ciri adores, was going to have a terrible traffic accident—which somehow isn’t on the news—and end up in the hospital he works at.

He already knows his name since Ciri just can’t stop talking about how nice he is and how he sounds like an angel. To the point where sometimes Geralt wants to say “Okay he is wonderful, so kind and lovely and you really love him, I get it. Can you please just keep eating your pasta? Yes Ciri, yes, I know that pasta is his favorite food, you say that every time we’re having pasta. ”

Geralt isn’t there for his intake, apparently, the accident happened last night, and the musician was badly injured.

Jaskier has a ruptured spleen that caused internal hemorrhaging, which the doctors were able to repair. He also has a mild concussion, a couple of broken ribs, along with some cuts and a broken leg which he is probably going to need another surgery for.

Since the other nurse who was responsible for Jaskier last night,  is having some family issues and has to take his annual leave, Jaskier is in Geralt’s care now, they let Geralt know.

When Geralt is home, Ciri starts talking about how Jaskier hadn’t posted anything in two days, and how worried she is since Jaskier had promised them a new song, “He never breaks his promises,” she says.

Geralt thinks that keeping the fact that the young man was in a traffic accident to himself is a better idea.

***

Three days later, when Geralt cracks open the door to Jaskier’s room, the man still sounds asleep, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath he takes as the morphine keeps dripping into his system. It’s enough to keep him subdued, if not completely pain-free.

He checks his IV, and takes a few notes onto his clipboard, right before the musician comes to, his eyelids fluttering.

And damn if he hasn’t got the most breathtaking eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. Even when they lack the spark Geralt is sure they normally hold in them.

Jaskier is confused, of course. So he tells him about what has happened and clears his throat before speaking.

“Mr. Pankratz, I need to take your vitals and then give you some medicines for the pain, may I have your arm?”

“Hell you can, might as well take my poor heart that seems to be beating for—”  Jaskier flirts and coughs before he has the chance to finish, his voice is low and hoarse from lack of use.

Geralt makes no comments, and fills a cup of water for him instead, helping him to drink it. He is surprised by the musician’s flattering words, and he is also glad that he is good at keeping a neutral expression on his face.  

“…you.” He finishes. “Well, I would normally use the ‘am I dead and in Heaven?’ cliché, but, see,” Jaskier keeps talking after sipping some water “I’m in too much pain to think that I’m in heaven. You sure look like a sexy angel or something though.  Ohoho, are you gonna give me a sponge bath, too? Just wondering. If so, I’m totally down for it. Just so you know.”

Geralt can’t help but snort at that a bit, “Do you always talk that much?”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t talk enough, you ever considered that?” Jaskier teases, and then suddenly his whole playful expression changes like he remembered that he had left his cat on the stone, and he frowns to himself, “Oh God, three days you said? Shitshitshit,” he drops his head back onto his pillows in a way too dramatic manner, covering his eyes with one hand “I had promised them a new song,” the nurse hears him mumbling “I am such an idiot.”

Jaskier truly seems so disappointed in himself that Geralt feels the need of comforting him. The man had a traffic accident, for crying out loud!

And yet, he is concerned for his fans because he couldn’t keep his promise, rather than being worried for himself.

Not even an hour has passed since he had the chance to talk to the man, but he already can see why Ciri likes this guy that much.

“It’s not your fault that some idiot decided that running a red light and colliding with your car was a good idea,” Geralt says “don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Jaskier still seems disappointed, but he mumbles a silent 'thank you’ before he says “ you may be right, but I promised them.”

***

Days go like this: Jaskier keeps flirting with him every time Geralt steps into his room to check on him and give him his medicines. Geralt never flirts back because of obvious reasons, but he never tells him to stop either, even though he does judge him with his eyes now and then.

The moments Geralt can spend with the man is the most he feels happy at work.

He can’t even deny that at this point.

Ciri keeps asking him why he looks happier nowadays, and why he suddenly became clumsy all of a sudden because he loses his focus easily.

“Who is the reason behind your smile? I gotta know! C’mon, it’s not fair! Don’t leave me hanging like this!”  She insists, being the stubborn girl she is, and after a second she grins like cheshire cat “You’ve finally met someone special?”

“…I might have, pumpkin”  is his answer. “I might have.”

***

He doesn’t know why, but Geralt doesn’t like Thursdays. Well, it’s probably because everything bad has ever happened to him seemed to happen on Thursdays, usually.

And sadly, this Thursday is no exception.

Hank, a seventy years old man who has been here for more than a month, and who has been very ill passes away. Who he had become really close with and really cared about.

Jaskier catches his change of mood when he goes to check on him and simply says, “Talk to me. I mean, you don’t have to. But you look like you could use a friend. And I’m so bored of watching television anyway.”

So Geralt talks to him.

He talks about Hank, about how wise he was. He talks about how he has been working here for years but how it still affects him so much when someone passes away. How he doesn’t suppose to feel a connection with his patients, how terrible of a nurse that makes him.

“That makes you human, not a terrible nurse.” Jaskier assures him, his voice as gentle as always. “Believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Geralt isn’t sure when Jaskier’s hand finds his hand as they talk, and when his dainty looking, long fingers link with his; but the intimate gesture feels so natural, so right that he just lets him.

***

Jaskier has surgery for his right leg the next day, and it’s not the first time that Geralt hears his patients saying the most ridiculous things after their surgery, thanks to the sedation.

But oh boy, if Jaskier doesn’t take it to a whole new level.

“Maaarry meee, my dear nurse!” the musician yells, “we could make the most adorable babies together! One of them would have my voice, one of them would have your weirdly sexy brooding or something. One of them would have my…. my tongue?  Or eyes? Cheeks! Yes, cheeks. And the other would have your lips while the other would have your… DIMPLE! I love that cute dimple you have on your jaw! ”

Geralt laughs, because how can he not?

“That’s biologically impossible.” the nurse says. “Also how many kids you have in mind? That was awfully a lot.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Marie, Duchess,” Jaskier starts to count with his fingers, and he looks so damn adorable that Geralt finds it extremely hard to not just reach out and ruffle his hair. “Thomas O'Malley, Toulouse, and Berlioz. So, six!”

“It’s five, actually,” Geralt tilts his head to the side slightly and corrects him with a fond, little smile. “So… you’re planning to name your kids after The Aristocats?”

“Our kids, mind you. And I’m not straight, love. You can’t expect me to do the math, I don’t make the rules.”

Love.

He just called Geralt ‘love’

“He probably calls ‘love’ everyone,” the nurse reminds himself and swallows, not being able to focus on what Jaskier says for a minute or so. “You’re no special.”

But the way Jaskier utters that one word, makes him feel like he is lying to himself.

When he can finally focus on what he is saying,  Jaskier is still talking about the same topic.

“…and you should be grateful that I’m not planning to name them after Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! If we’re gonna have more than six, I’m totally doing that though.”

“Why Mr. Pankratz, we’re not even married yet. But I already don’t have a say in anything, it seems.” Geralt can’t help but tease with the young man in return.

Jaskier waves one hand weakly: “Don’t take this as my marriage proposal though, I’m better than that. If I were to propose to you I would do that in the most wonderful way. Roses, candles, and everything. Even fireworks.”

Geralt remains silent, so Jaskier talks again: “And ya know, joking aside, actually we couldn’t name them unless we adopted them when they were babies.”

“Why do you want so many kids?” the nurse wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, growing up in a foster care system will do that to you,” Jaskier lets out a loud and somehow cute yawn.

Geralt knows that he wasn’t even supposed to ask that, and he shouldn’t even listen to Jaskier rambling about his life, which he won’t even remember after the sedative effect wears off.

But he can’t suppress his need of knowing more about him.

He just can’t.

“Wanna adopt as many kids as I can, so I can provide ’em a life filled full of love and everything they deserve. All the beautiful things in the universe. All the things I couldn’t have when I was a kid.” Jaskier admits, and his words make Geralt’s heart clench in his chest.

At that moment, Geralt is sure that he is falling so hard for the musician.

Maybe he already did.

“Don’t think that I’m not gonna name our dogs after them though. Or cats.” Jaskier mumbles. He looks like he is just two seconds away from falling into a deep sleep.

Right when he moves to leave, Jaskier grabs his hand as he softly, sweetly whispers, “Geralt, don’t leave me.” And he sounds so vulnerable, so weak that the nurse’s heart skips a beat in his chest.

Geralt would love to say that he doesn’t leave all night, but he has other patients he needs to check on, so he leaves.

But not before staying for five minutes as he holds the musician’s hand, and watches him fall asleep. Nobody needs to know, right?

***

The next day, Jaskier doesn’t remember most of the things he had said last night, but somehow he remembers that Geralt had stayed for a while.

That day, feeling guilty about yesterday, Geralt talks about his life.

“It’s only fair,” he thinks.

He talks about Ciri, and he lets the musician know how crazy his daughter is about him. That makes Jaskier smile at him warmly, but then again, his smile is always like this.

Warmer than the sun on a hot summer day.

Blushing, Jaskier hesitantly says that he would love to meet her. His big, baby blue eyes seem to be searching for something in Geralt’s eyes.

And Geralt understands that he finds whatever he was searching for when Geralt nods and says: “We would love that, too.”

***

“Look! Jaskier finally posted something!” Ciri says one morning while they are having breakfast, well, more like Ciri is having breakfast, and Geralt is just busy with his coffee since he is in a hurry.

“Hmm?”

“Wait, was this an ‘I’m Actually Curious About What You Have To Say’ type of ‘hmm’? Because it definitely didn’t sound like your usual ‘I Don’t Care’ type of ‘hmm’. Nice! That might be the first time you actually seem curious about what I have to say about him.” Ciri smiles, and lets out a sad, little “Oh.” After reading whatever Jaskier had posted.

“He says that he is having some minor health issues…”

Geralt huffs at that.

‘Minor health issues’

If what he had gone through is “minor” to Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t even want to imagine what “major health issues”  mean in his dictionary.

But he is sure that the only reason why the musician says “minor” is because he doesn’t want to worry his fans.

“‘I am in good hands though—I mean it, really really good hands—so no need to worry. Love you all, xoxo’ Hmm… I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The nurse looks at his daughter’s phone screen and the excessive amount of winking face emojis after ‘really really good hands’ part catches his attention.

He tries to hide his smile behind his black coffee mug.

And luckily, he succeeds.

***

A few days later, it’s time for Jaskier to be discharged from the hospital. And Geralt feels a bit sad about it, to be honest. Because he is already used to having the young man around.

To his never-ending flirting and jokes, to his smile, to his everything.

But the good thing is, that means that he will be no longer his patient.

Jaskier gives him his number before he leaves, and tells Geralt to call him whenever he is free.

“I’m totally getting into another accident and make sure they bring me here if you don’t call, Mr. Handsome Nurse,” the musician jokes in a low voice.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Geralt smiles. “You can be sure that I’ll call, Jaskier. And we can even have some pasta maybe.”

It’s the first time that Geralt calls him by his first name, and the nurse can see how the other man’s smile widens when he does that, eyes sparkling.

“Wow. Now I have no doubt about how much Ciri talks about me,“ scratching the back of his head, Jaskier chuckles shyly, and it’s music to his ears. Ciri is right. He does sound like an angel.

"Till we meet again, Geralt. Till we meet again.”

[mldrgrl]

Wise Up

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: Scully needs someone to take her home after dental surgery.  Pre-Millennium.

He came back from getting coffee to find her mid-conversation with her mother.  She gave him a glance over her shoulder when he put the to-go cup quietly on her table and then lowered her chin so that her hair obscured her face.  She switched her cell phone from one hand to the other and he shuffled to his own desk pretending to give her privacy.

“It’s fine, Mom,” she said.  “I promise.  I’ll just try to get it rescheduled until after the new year.  No, I...no, I don’t need...Mom, it’s fine.”

He sipped his coffee and opened a file, but kept his gaze higher than necessary to keep her in his periphery.  She pinched the bridge of her nose in silence for the next ten seconds and then she finally lifted her head.

“Mom,” she stated.  “I have to go, I need to finish a report.  I’ll reschedule for January.  As for Thursday, don’t worry about it, you just feel better.  I know.  I know.  I love you too.  Bye.”

Scully disconnected her call with a deep sigh that Mulder pretended not to notice.  He was burning with curiosity, however, and it was only a matter of time before he would ask.  He just had to wait for the right opportunity.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He nodded as she stood and rubbed the back of her jaw a little.  He’d noticed she’d been doing that a lot lately, but hadn’t said anything about it.  She left without her coffee, her jacket, or her satchel, so he assumed she was headed to the ladies’ room.

Only minutes later, she was back, and he was sipping his coffee and reading email.  She stayed standing, lifting the lid of her own coffee and blowing across the top.  He gave her a sideways glance as she paced in front of his desk with a pensive expression.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said.

“A few dozen more and I might make a dent in what I owe you.”

“Mm.”  The left corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile.

He thought he might have an opening.  “Everything alright?”

“Fine.”

He thought wrong.  He nodded and clicked open another email advising an early release tomorrow for administrative personnel due to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.  He’d be surprised if he saw anyone but his own shadow at work tomorrow.  Even Scully had taken the day off.

By the time he opened and deleted three other emails, she was still pacing by his desk, so he tried again.  “How’s your mom?”

“She’s…”

“Fine?”

“She has the flu, actually.  She called to tell me that she didn’t think she’d be up for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Oh.”  Mulder sat back in his chair.  Now he was the one pulling a pensive expression.

“It’s fine,” she said, quickly.  “I wasn’t actually…”

He raised his brows in question and she shook her head dismissively.  He swiveled from side to side in his chair and tapped a pencil against his chin as he looked at her, which he knew made her nervous.  It worked.  She shifted her feet and suddenly couldn’t decide if she might speak or drink her coffee.  Her exasperation was palpable.

“I have a dentist appointment tomorrow,” she blurted.  “Well, I was supposed to, but now I have to cancel.”

“Why?”

“I’m having a wisdom tooth removed and Mom was supposed to take me.  I was going to use the long weekend to recover.  She has the flu now, so…”  She shrugged and finally took a sip of her coffee and then rubbed her lips together.  “They don’t let you leave on your own after anesthesia.  So, I have to reschedule.”

“I can take you.”

“No, Mulder, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking.  I’m offering.  I can take you.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s not like I’d be getting much done here by myself anyway.”

“I thought you always accomplished so much with me out of your hair.”

He smiled at her.  “I just tell you that so you don’t feel guilty about leaving me on my own.”

She snorted softly.

“So, what time do I pick you up?” he asked.

“Don’t you have plans for Thanksgiving, Mulder?”

He got up out of his seat and walked over to her, extending his hand.  “Fox Mulder,” he said.  “We’ve obviously never met before.”

She bashfully lowered her head a little and hesitated for a few beats.  “I need to be there by 9:15,” she finally said.  “It’s only about ten minutes away from my apartment.”

“The Skinman’s gonna have a heart attack when I submit my request for time off.”

And that’s how he ended up sitting in a dental surgeon’s office splitting his attention between vintage copies of Reader’s Digest and anxiously checking his watch every five minutes.  Occasionally, he would get up and inspect an elaborate fish tank taking up half the wall in the waiting room to watch the yellow tangs and clownfish pass from side to side.

It was nearly noon when the nurse came out to collect Mulder.  “Your wife is ready for you,” she told him.

“Oh, um…”  He tossed the Reader’s Digest aside and decided it wasn’t worth it to explain his relationship to Scully.  Instead, he followed her to a tiny, all-white recovery room at the back of the office where his partner was curled up on a cot with her eyes closed.

“Miss Scully,” the nurse said, shaking her gently on the shoulder.  “Your husband is here to take you home.”

Scully opened her eyes and stared blankly at the woman standing above her.  She sat up slowly with the nurse’s help and then Mulder crouched down and put a hand on her knee.  Her right cheek was puffed up, full of cotton swabs that poked out of the corner of his mouth.  The size of her pupils caught him off guard, so dilated her eyes almost looked black.

“Muller,” Scully murmured.  “My mowf ish mishing.”

“Your mouth is missing?”  He chuckled softly and rubbed her knee.  “Certainly not the whole mouth.”

“She might be a little loopy until the anesthesia wears off,” the nurse said.  “The tooth was impacted and took some work.”

The thought of it made Mulder cringe.  He helped Scully into her jacket and then to her feet and she swayed into him, leaned against him for support.  The nurse handed him a small white bag with painkillers and instructions, which she rattled off to him as he escorted his partner slowly down the hall.

“Take the gauze out when you get home,” she said.  “Don’t let her prod the jaw or use mouthwash for at least a week.  She’ll probably want to sleep for a few more hours, but by the time she wakes up, she’ll be in a fair amount of pain.  Give her one of the painkillers immediately, and then as needed, but no more than four in 24 hours.  Ice packs will help with the swelling and the pain.  She might feel lightheaded or woozy the next couple of days and that’s normal.  No exercise for the next week, no drinking through a straw, and no eating or drinking at all for the next two hours.  And then soft foods and room temperature liquids are fine.  The pamphlet there has all the information you need.”

Mulder nodded along, suddenly nervous about the responsibility he’d volunteered for.  He’d never had dental surgery and had no idea the amount of recovery involved.  Maybe he should have let her reschedule the appointment so her mom could take care of her, but then again, he struggled to imagine Scully’s mom, as slight as she was, getting her daughter out of the office when Mulder was practically carrying her down the hall to the door.

It took some time, but he managed to get Scully into the car and buckled in.  She turned her head towards him when he got in and gazed at him like she had just awakened from a pleasant dream.

“You’re susha good driver,” she said.

“Well, thank you,” he answered, latching his seatbelt.

“Even whener losh and dunno whereer at.”

“Lucky for you, there’s no chance I’ll get lost from here to the apartment.”

“Are we goin’ to your parparmen, Muller?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Mm home.”  

Mulder started the car and that was the last thing Scully said until they arrived in front of her building.  He would look over at her at red lights and she was still turned towards him, her eyes half-open, blinking slowly.  When he parked the car, she turned her head and her brows came together with a deep frown.  He helped her out of the car and she took baby steps across the lawn, leaving footprints in the thin layer of snow that covered the green.

Her face contorted as though she was in great pain and he stopped with her at the foot of the stairs up to her front door.  “Muller,” she whined.  “Thish isna wherer coush lives.”

“No, it’s where your couch lives.”

“I can’d shleep on my coush.”

“Good thing you have a bed.  Come on, almost there.”

It was slow-going up the stairs.  She took them one at a time, making sure both feet were planted securely before moving forward.  By the time he got her through the door, she was sagging against him again and he considered just picking her up and carrying her the rest of the way.

“Home sweet home,” he said, unlocking her apartment door.

“Where’sh the dog?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“What dog?”

“My dog.”

“Queegqueg?  He uh…”  Mulder paused.  It probably wasn’t the best idea to let her know her dog had been eaten by a lake monster three years ago.  “Queegqueg isn’t here right now.”

“Queegqueg.  Thash a weird word, Muller.  Queeeeeeequeeeeeeeeeeeg.  Queegquegqueegquegqueegqueg.”

He put the bag of painkillers and nurse’s instructions on the table in her kitchen while she tried to wrap her head around the odd word.  “Yeah, I always thought it was a weird name for a dog, too.”

“What dog?”

“Your dog.”

“I dun have a dog.”

Mulder raised his brows.  “Okay, let’s get you to bed.”

Scully sighed a little and let Mulder lead her towards the bedroom.  He sat her down on the bed and then knelt in front of her to unlace her tennis shoes.  He wondered if he should try to coax her into getting into some pajamas, but figured it might be more trouble than it was worth.  Jeans and a sweater should be comfortable enough.  He got both shoes off her feet and then remembered the gauze needed to come out of her mouth.  

“Can you…?”  He gestured to her mouth and she followed the wag of his finger until she turned cross-eyed.  “We need to get those cotton balls or whatever it is out of your mouth.”

She opened her mouth for him and tipped her head back a little.  If he didn’t know she was drugged up before, he definitely knew it now.  A sober Scully would’ve insisted on gloves and sterilizing and sanitizing the entire room before letting him near her mouth.  A sober Scully would’ve insisted she was fine and could do it herself.  Gingerly, he plucked out the saliva and blood-soaked pieces of cotton from the inside of her cheek, trying not to let his squeamishness show too much or  get in the way.  It wasn’t lost on him that if the tables were turned, she would do the same for him, and more.

When he was sure he’d removed all the gauze, he took it into the bathroom to dispose of, not looking at the little pile of gore in his hand.  He shivered and then washed his hands with the soap that Scully had been smelling of lately, which he definitely wasn’t going to complain about because it made her smell so good.  It made the night he’d ‘taught’ her how to play baseball even more memorable.  He thought it might have been a new lotion or bath gel, but it turned out it was hand soap the whole time.  Or maybe she had a whole set of it lurking in the bathroom.  He dried his hands and peered at the bottle.  It was simply called: Almond.  He would buy her another bottle or a dozen for Christmas.  He liked it.

Back in Scully’s room, he found her poking at her cheek with the pads of her fingers and he took her hand away from her face to stop her.  “You can’t do that,” he said.

“Can’t feel anything.”

“It’ll wear off soon enough.  Let’s get your coat off and into bed.”

“We can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go to bed.”

“I don’t see why not.”  He started to unbutton her coat.  “You have the day off, tomorrow’s a holiday, and then you-”

“It’s against the rules.”

“I’m not familiar with any rules that prohibit adults from taking post-surgery naps.”

“The FBI says so.”

“I haven’t read the handbook in awhile, but I don’t think this’ll warrant an official reprimand in your permanent record.  If it does, I’ve got your back.”  He struggled to get her arms free from the jacket and she was no help.  Just looked solemnly up at him while pouting her bottom lip slightly.  He finally pulled the jacket loose and then reached behind her to turn down the bed.  “Time to break some imaginary rules,” he said.

“I want to,” she whispered.  “I really want to.  But…”  She winced and then reached up to cup her jaw.

“Hurting?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, stay put.”  He turned to leave, but was stopped by a pull on his back pocket.

“Where’re you going?”

“To get you an ice pack.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

“Promise, promise?”

He traced an ‘x’ against his chest.  She let go of his pocket and raised her hand up to him, all her fingers folded down except for the pinkie, which was crooked slightly.

“Pinkie swear?” she asked.

He chuckled and then hooked his pinkie finger with hers and gave it a shake.  “Lay down,” he said.  “I’ll be right back.”

Afraid she might try to stop him again, he hurried out of her room for the kitchen.  While there, he read over the instruction pamphlet on the table and checked her fridge and cupboards to see if she had any soft, bland foods, in case he might need to call out for delivery later or run to the store.  He found some yogurt and cans of soup and figured that would be sufficient.  What he couldn’t find, however, was an ice pack.  He searched her freezer high and low, but found nothing.  He decided to make do with a package of frozen corn wrapped in a tea towel.

He’d hoped to find her asleep when he came back to her room, but she was still awake, albeit drowsily staring up at the ceiling and rubbing at her jaw.

“You have to stop doing that,” he said, taking her hand away from her face.  He gently placed the makeshift icepack against her cheek and sat down next to her to hold it in place.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand.  She turned her head slightly and then closed her eyes and sniffed a little.  She looked up at him.

“You used my soap,” she said.

“Had to wash my hands earlier.”

“You like it don’t you?”

“It smells nice.”

“I noticed that you’ve been breathing me in lately.”

“If I have, I’m-”

“So, I went back to the shop I got the soap from and bought the lotion and the shower gel as well.”

“Oh.”  The first thing he thought was that he was right.  She did have a whole set lurking in her bathroom.  The second thought he had was that she’d just admitted she was wearing it for him.  Heat flooded his chest and tightened it, followed by a flutter low in his abdomen.

“You okay, Mulder?”

“Sorry, Scully, maybe I’m coming down with something?”

She struggled for a moment to sit up and the icepack slipped out of his hand and from her face, landing in the space between them on the bed.  She grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his towards her.

“Scully, wha-?”

“Checking for fever,” she murmured, resting her left cheek against his brow. ��“You are a little warm, but I think you’re fine.”

“Not very scientific.”

“Some things are better than science.”

“I’m going to need you to repeat that when you’re no longer under the influence.”

“I haven’t been drinking.”

“You’re not exactly sober.”

She let him go and laid back down.  He retrieved the icepack and rewrapped it in the towel that came loose.  She waved him away when he tried to put it back on her cheek so he reached over to set it on her nightstand.

“I want to break the rules with you,” she said.

“Finally succumbing to my bad influence, are you?”

“I’m afraid though, Mulder.”

“What’re you afraid of?”

“The end of the world.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.  We’re gonna save the world together.  I promise.”

She shook her head.  “Our world, Mulder.  The world of you and me.”

“You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long, long time, Scully.”  He chuckled and raised his hand up, folding his fingers down and keeping his pinkie up.  “Pinkie swear.”

She grabbed his finger loosely with her own.  “I’m sorry I’m so sleepy.”

“You’re drugged up, partner.”

“Oh.”  She rubbed at one eye with the back of her hand.  “You won’t go, right?”

“I’ll hang with you until you kick me out.  You’ve got HBO, don’t you?”

“Even if we can’t go to bed?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to take me to bed.”

“Oh.  Oh.”  He almost laughed.  Now her talk of rules made sense.  Except, what she said, what she’d been saying, was that she wanted to break those rules.  With him.  “Scully…”

Her eyes closed lazily and she took a deep, slow breath, exhaling with a sigh.  “I love you, Mulder.”

“Oh brother,” he whispered.  He sat absolutely still for the next few moments as that warm, fluttery feeling washed over him again.  He touched her shoulder and then leaned closer to her, watched her breathe slowly and evenly.  “You’re the only one I want to break the rules with too, Scully.”

Even though she was caught in sedated slumber, he was pretty sure she knew how he felt.  And he was definitely going to get her that almond soap for Christmas.

The End

[fangirl-on-bitches]

The secret cove.

Obi-Wan x FemaleDoctor!Reader

Word count: 2291 words.

Summary: Reader is a doctor in charge of taking care of the clone army. She gets mad at the Generals for being reckless. 

Warnings: none really. A lot of dialogue and it might get kind of crappy at the end, sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes. Slow burn and pointless. Also I might make a part 2 but I won’t make any promises. Have a nice gif:

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

The sterilized air was difficult to breath in with her mask, the blinding white lights were supposed to make her job easier but after hours and hours, they felt like an enemy. With steady hands she fixed the man on her table, almost automatically, remembering and thinking every step her teachers had taught her. The adrenaline was pumping through her body, the beeping of the machine making her feel not that anxious. The hum of the ship was annoying at first, now mere white noise.

(Y/N) Wilhar, Doctor specialized in clones, had been helping in the clone wars wherever she was needed. She had been in Kamino under the observing tutelage wing of the kaminoans, making the clones, observing their stats, making them better but above all, taking care and learning from them. She would never feel like a mother, but rather a sister to all of them. She knew exactly how to patch them up, and they may be all clones, but they had different personalities. Maybe for strategy they all think the same but when talking about anything else, each one of them was unique to her.

That’s why she was enraged when she arrived to help the 212th attack battalion and the 501st legion. She had traveled all around the galaxy, met all kind of Generals but never had she ever met someone with a plan so reckless it would leave half of their men injured, with a considerable amount of life-threatening cases. Dr. Wilhar was not mad she had to work, at all, she loved saving lives, but she was sure whoever was behind any of those attack plans thought the clones were disposable. She was no stranger to the whispers of the men, always voicing out how everyone in the republic thought of them as disposable.

After successfully finishing the surgery, she thought all she was going to say to whoever was commander while disposing of all the equipment. She took a breath, slipped on her white coat and undid her ponytail. Just when she got out she was stopped by a handsome bearded man.

“Excuse me, were you inside assisting Waxer’s surgery?” All charm (Y/N) felt when she first saw him and all the blush it was creeping up her cheeks went right back where it belonged when he assumed she was assisting.

“Yes, I was the one performing it.” She replied, looking at his clothes. Light-colored robes? Pieces of white armor with the. Republic symbol?

“And? How did it go?” He asked, his grey-blue eyes twitching with contained anxiousness or perhaps, annoyance.

“It went exceptionally good, he’s now resting on his room.” She replied with cold-mannered professionalism.

“By any chance, would you know where it is?” He asked with a lovely accent.

“Yes, but I won’t divulge information unless you identify yourself.” They were in a war after all, it was protocol to know who each person was.

“Jedi General, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Glad to meet you…” He looked at her name, stitched in an emerald green on her white coat. The woman almost rolled her eyes; of course he would use his full title. “(Y/N).”

“It’s Dr.Wilhar to you.” She replied, her lips in a firm line. “This way, General Kenobi.” She spoke, reluctantly showing him the way. Outside the room where Waxer was sleeping a girl stood, watching inside. She wore maroon clothes, and looked togruta, a lightsaber on her belt. By her side stood, a clone, Cody if she remembered correctly looked concerned. A tall handsome man with dark colored Jedi robes stood with his arms crossed, his wavy hair falling above his shoulders. His eyes were closed. As Obi-Wan got closer to the window to look at Waxer he was greeted by the people there.

(Y/N)’s forehead vein was about to burst, she couldn’t hold her fury much longer. Then Cody noticed her. “Doctor, thank you for saving Waxer and my other brothers.” She smiled, shaking her head.

“It’s my job Cody. Don’t worry.”

“General Skywalker, Commander Tano, this is Dr. Wilhar.” He presented her, as Obi-Wan didn’t do so. (Y/N) didn’t notice, but he was deep in though, trying to analyze her change of demeanor toward Cody, wondering what did he do wrong. Both Skywalker and Tano reached their hands put. Wilhar shook first the girls hand.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano, nice to meet you.” She greeted with a worn out smile, the battle did take a toll on her.

“(Y/N) Wilhar.” She nodded looking at Skywalker next.

“Jedi General, Anakin Skywalker.” She looked at him for an instant, while he stood there with his hand awkwardly. “Thank you for saving our men.” He said, clearing his throat, retreating his hand.

“Generals, may I speak to you for a minute?” She asked, addressing both Obi-Wan and Anakin. Both nodded but looked at each other, wondering why. They didn’t walk long, just a few meters. “Which of you is responsible for such a disaster?”

“Huh?” The younger man articulated with a slight offended tone, Obi-Wan however didn’t speak.

“I’ve been all around the galaxy since the war started, aiding different battalions and never have I ever saw this amount of men injured in battle. Who was so reckless to formulate such a plan?”

“Now, now, Dr. Wilhar. I’m sure there is some misunderstanding here.” Obi-Wan tried to calm the dialogue before Anakin would burst.

“Do not try to appease me General.” She bit with venom, her hands in her hips.

“It was me who made the plan, but I will not tolerate such tone from someone below me.” Obi-Wan, Cody and Ahsoka cringed at his statement. (Y/N) stood firm.

“You may outrank me in every title you posses, but I’m in charge of the health of your men, and in the infirmary I outrank you, unless you posses some medical knowledge.” She bit back, not stuttering once. Obi-Wan looked at her with interest, stroking his beard. “All I’m asking is to treat your men as humanly as you are capable of, they are not disposable contrary to what the Republic may think.”

“Hey! That’s not fair.” Anakin defended himself, a deep frown in his face. “Our plan had not a single flaw, we were attacked more violently than they ever did and our intel was wrong. We retreated as fast as we could but they had no mercy on us, and believe me I don’t think our men are disposable.” He raised his voice, his anger directed at the battle and the casualties rather than her.

“Then act like it.” She nagged at him. Kenobi couldn’t help but stare at her. He looked at her determined tired eyes, the soft looking skin of her neck that trailed below the buttoned-up blue shirt neckline. He had to look up, otherwise his thoughts would betray him.

“Doctor, he’s saying the truth.” Cody intervened. “Both Generals are always careful and they do care for us clones.”

“Do not defend the kid Cody.” She crossed her arms, looking at him defiantly.

“Kid? I’m twenty-one!” Anakin exclaimed, not really helping his statement.

“Twenty-one? And you are authorized to lead a full legion?” (Y/N) chuckled sarcastic, actually really impressed.

“What are you? Two years older than me? Oh so wise?” He taunted, crossing his arms, trying to make himself taller.

“I’m twenty-six, laser-brain.” The doctor deadpanned making Ahsoka snort.

“Laser-brain?” He asked offended.

“Okay, kids, I think that’s enough bickering for now.” Obi-Wan intervened. “We have some briefings to attend to.”

“Go ahead then, old man.” (Y/N) taunted, a glint of mischief on her eyes. Maybe it was the bickering or the fact that the Jedi did everything they could to actually save the clones, but now she was in a better mood. She walked to where Ahsoka was and told her something along the lines that she would let her now if Waxer waked up. Apparently, Ahsoka made a really good impression in the Doctor that Obi-Wan couldn’t do in the first place, but he was determined (although he shouldn't ) to charm (Y/N).

*****

The doctor’s shift was over, but she was not paying attention as she checked on Waxer’s stats. A knock on the door startled her. It was Cody along with another clone. “Dr. Wilhar. This is Rex, we came to check on Waxer.”

“Nice to meet you Rex, I’m (Y/N) Wilhar.”

“Likewise ma’am.”

“Please, don’t call me ma’am.” She smiled good-naturedly. “Waxer is doing better, I expect him to wake up tonight or tomorrow morning, but don’t get alarmed if he doesn’t yet, it takes time to heal.” She reached for the pockets of her coat, but she wasn’t wearing one. “You can stay here if you like, but don’t make too much noise.” Both nodded, with tired eyes. (Y/N) thought they might take turns to watch over Waxer while one sleeps. She took a stroll through the ship, the usual silence there was after a particular long or tough battle flooded the aisles. Her steps echoed as she walked leisurely to the food court. She needed something warm and something to munch on.

With a mug of caf and a couple of pieces of crunchy bread on hand she walked to that spot every republic ship had reserved for important guests. A mandatory big sitting space facing a breathtaking view of the space, and it was all for her. She sat and enjoyed relaxing her limbs after long hours. The first sip of the caf did the trick for her, relaxing her beyond imaginable, the pieces of bread satiating the cravings for something delicious.

After enjoying her short meal she couldn’t resist but rest her whole body in the sofa, if her legs had mouths they would be sighing in relief. A brown blanket laid around in the perfect place for her to take and wrap around her, the republic’s detergent tingling her nose with a pinch of other pleasant smell she couldn’t make out. Her eyes were slowly closing, the hum of the ships lulling her to sleep.

“Hello there.” She jolted awake at some voice coming from the side. Kenobi was walking towards her. “Oh, were you falling asleep?” (Y/N) nodded sighting, too comfortable to even speak. “I’m so sorry. I just came to look for my cloak.”

“I didn’t see it, sorry.” She replied half asleep, snuggling further into the comfortable cocoon she was in. She could hear him walk and sit near her, she could feel his weight in the sofa. He was silent for a few seconds then spoke almost in a murmur:

“It seems you are using it.” A smirk adorned his face, however (Y/N) had her eyes shut.

“What?” She asked slightly opening her eyes, perhaps she heard him wrong.

“You are wearing my cloak, darling.” He repeated sweetly, melting at the replies she was giving him in her state. (Y/N) opened her eyes a little more, looking down at the brown blanket she was hugging so tightly. It had an odd shape, but Coruscant fashion and interiors were always weird. She sat up really quickly all blushed and embarrassed, trying to unwrap the damned cloak from her body. “Wait, don’t.” Obi-Wan stopped her, a sweet smile in his face. “I have another cloak I can use, keep that one.”

“No, it’s alright. You can have it back, I thought it was a blanket.” Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head, leaning in the couch. (Y/N) was now unable to fall asleep. “Did Waxer wake up?” She asked, curious and maybe trying to make conversation.

“No, not yet.” He replied turning his head slightly. (Y/N) nodded and looked at the vast space. “I think we started with the wrong foot, Doctor.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It just really makes me upset when they die and no one cares.” She apologized looking at him, her head turned at him while it rested in the sofa’s back.

“It makes us upset too.” Obi-Wan agreed with her, turning his body towards her, supporting his head with his hand, his elbow resting in the top of the couch’s back.

“I thought Jedi couldn’t get upset.” (Y/N) pointed out, genuinely curious. Obi-Wan looked at her for a minute, then averted his gaze.

“It’s complicated.” He replied.

“Enlighten me then, I got time.” She replied, propping herself from the couch. In the entrance to the area stood Cody and Rex, looking at both adults talking on the couch, while bickering in a whisper.

“I bet you 20 credits that the General will fall for her.” Cody said. Rex looked at him suspiciously.

“He’s a Jedi.” He deadpanned.

“He’s not blind. Plus we all know about General Skywalker’s relationship”

“But General Kenobi is wiser.”

“What are you, a coward?”

“Well, I think Dr. Wilhar will fall for him, so I bet you 20.”

“Deal.” Then Cody cleared his throat. “General, Doctor, Waxer’s awake.” He announced. (Y/N) stood almost immediately, hugging the cloak around her, the air was chilly. She greeted Waxer with a smile, presenting herself while checking his vitals, ignoring the odd stares she was receiving from both Ahsoka and Anakin at her Jedi cloak that wasn’t actually her’s.

“How are you feeling?” (Y/N) asked, as she always did with her patients.

“Like a strong bantha, doctor.” He replied with a smug smirk. Meanwhile, Anakin was connecting dots, or trying to. The snippy doctor was wearing a Jedi cloak and Obi-Wan was not wearing a cloak. They also came together. His master could feel his burning stare in the side of his face while he was pretending not to notice, looking at Waxer.

He had to evade Anakin’s questioning, he was too perceptive.

[drneilfox]

Scarlet's Swords: Music Films Book Blog 10 (July 2021)

A rollercoaster of a month emotionally with ‘the book’. So many moments of insecurity and anxiety washed away by a series of related and tangential moments and experiences. I went on annual leave finally, to await the arrival of our new baby and to spend a few weeks as a family with little to no responsibility or expectation beyond that. It was freeing to put on my out of office at work and simultaneously put a quasi-OOO on the book for the foreseeable. It might have been foolish given how far behind where I wanted to be I am currently, but it was liberating.

It caused me to rethink my approach, or at least know I need to (I haven’t done it yet because I’m stepping back a tad). In the downtime away from writing I have been tinkering and moving forward at a snail’s pace. One thing I did was to map out all the films I still need to see or see again, or at least have told myself I need to see or see again. It’s up near the 300. Obviously I can’t watch that many and write and read and edit and submit my first draft in February 2022. So I stopped worrying that I had to. I have been prioritising viewing and making peace with the fact that I can’t see everything. It’s weird how pervasive that sense is when writing about cinema and how hard it is to escape. The feeling that I am writing about something I love and want to share with people is subsumed beneath the fear of being ‘tested’ on my knowledge and the facts of it all (even though I’m not presenting fact) and what ‘gaps’ might tell people about me. This is sometimes stronger than the feeling that I am just a terrible writer writing a book no one has any interest in ever reading. I wonder if that’s my age, or the social media age, the fact that it’s taken me so long to get to this point or some wretched combination of all three.

The writing of the list certainly helped put the next few months into focus and my sketch of a new plan, once I am back in earnest at the desk, looks ok. I’m excited to work through the final films and get the book into even better shape. Other events in July certainly helped. One was finishing a draft of the fifth chapter on my list, on films about making music. It was a slog time wise, because of so many interruptions, but I got there on the final day of ‘work’ before annual leave. So it felt momentous and a good way to sign off for a bit.

There was also the arrival of some films from the U.S. I took advantage of the Barnes and Noble 50% off Criterion Collection sale and the fact that I have a dear, dear friend in New York (thank you JC!) to post stuff to me that would mean avoiding import tax, to get my hands on some classic films. I mainly wanted them for the extras but also because I love them. I picked up A Hard Day’s Night, Gimme Shelter (a July rewatch), Transes and one I’ve never seen, Murray Lerner’s Festival. I also picked up maybe my favourite ever music doc, Les Blank’s A Poem Is A Naked Person, and a box set of Blank’s work which includes a ton of music, music-centric, or music related works that I can’t wait to get stuck into. Blank is fast becoming one of my favourite filmmakers.

July’s watchlist was heavy hitters galore as I was watching and rewatching for my Milestones chapter so films and filmmakers included The Last Waltz and other Scorsese works (is Rolling Thunder Revue his best music film maybe?), Jonathan Demme, Julien Temple and films about the Beatles, Stones and Bob Dylan. Big. One such film was Demme’s beautiful concert film Heart of Gold, focusing on Neil Young not long after surgery for a brain aneurysm. It’s a warm and soulful film and one I saw on DVD, in New York, on a lazy afternoon before heading home, while staying with my friend John Carlin (the JC who sent posted me some DVDs this month). I was tired, I was all New York-ed out, and John put it on and we loved it. It meant a lot, maybe more, than it would normally had because a couple of years earlier I had written a play called How It Plays Out, that John travelled to Luton to perform in as the lead, and in the play he performed a Neil Young song, Only Love Can Break Your Heart. John Carlin is a brilliant songwriter in his own right. Check out his work here and buy Songs From The Black House, it’s one of the best records ever made, Fact. I love him.

I also read the first book that will feature in my book since I started writing back last year (nearly 12 months ago!), Thomas F. Cohen’s Playing to the Camera: Musicians and Musical Performance in Documentary Cinema. It was invigorating. Not only is it a great book, but it reminded me why I am working on mine. I want to be in dialogue with these other works that exist, reach out to and pull from them and survey the land of ideas that is music documentary and the writing on it. I loved Cohen’s style and confidence too. It gave me strength to be more confident about my own writing. It was also nice to see so much time dedicated to Shirley Clarke’s Ornette: Made in America, a truly magnificent doc I loved writing about.

So over the next few months I shall be reading more and more for the book. I am excited. That trip to the BFI library (where I learned of Cohen’s book), really galvanised me, in ways I’m becoming more aware of as I think more and write less.

Don’t forget, you can track what I’m watching (and maybe try and work out which films I’m referring to above and in the note fragments below) via my Letterboxd list, here.

Don’t forget you can listen in to my book themed playlist here.

Here’s what I was listening to while writing in July:

Finally, a bit of fun. Here are my favourite notes from this month’s viewing sessions:

Demme knows

“I just wanna play well and share the stage with my friends”

“He had a lot of ukeleles in the trunk”

Imagine booing one of the greatest live shows ever by one of, if not the, greatest rock n roll backing bands of all time.

Joan Baez’s Dylan impression is bang on.

“I don’t even wanna get in tune”

People lying around everywhere.

Need a shower after watching this.

Babies, planes and Nick Cave

Bob Marley tats and flags

Coke in the nose

Clapton - boring

Bob looks amazing!

“you booed!”

Keroauc’s grave

“I don’t want this shit to work. I hate it”

Bawdy

Ludicrous outfit Mick

Chilly at the heliport

[pcttrailsidereader]

Spot, Spotters, and Spotted

Dave Baugher has been a regular contributor over the past several years.  Although most of his posts have touched on the poignant and personal side of being out on the PCT, in this story he takes a mostly humorous examination of the using a SPOT device (although he does conclude with a story that reinforces the importance and value of SPOT devices).

Dave has also included a story in the upcoming 10th Anniversary edition of The Pacific Crest Trailside Reader that the Mountaineers Books will be publishing in 2022.

By Dave Baugher

The backpacker and his GPS are more like a match made in the local tavern, like beer and pretzels. Current Global Positioning tracking technology uses a network of satellites to determine the location of a device that was specifically designed for that purpose. The basic idea is that a GPS tracker uses trilateration to determine its physical location based on its distance from three GPS satellites.  For the hiker going about his way on the trail, the technology is innocuous. However, for those following, the technology can spawn a myriad of humor, concerns, and dismay, just like an evening at that local tavern.

However, these devices sometimes baffle sideline audiences and armchair quarterbacks by the hiker's behavior on the trail, as shown on Google maps.  Consider a little during-the-hike episode on the second day of my 2014 Pacific Crest Trail hike when I arrived at Lake Morena.

It was one of those quiet afternoons, with a scattering of high clouds, green cottonwoods around the lake, and the smell of fresh-cut grass on the breeze. Arriving at the county campground early in the afternoon, home tonight would be campsite #31. I laid my pack across the picnic table, took a long deep breath, and basked in the afternoon sun, planning for a much-anticipated shower, dinner, and relaxation.  Getting up, I grabbed my pack; I walked down the dusty road to the Oak Shore Grocery and purchased a couple beers and a local newspaper.  Returning to my campsite, the remainder of the evening played out precisely as planned.  The shower was hot and clean; dinner was satisfying, and reading the newspaper with my cold beer was intimately relaxing.

Later, I discovered that my trip to the store generated multiple jokes amongst my friends who were monitoring my progress along the trail via SPOT; my compatriots were closely watching.   Little did I know that the store was titled “Ice Cream Shop” on Google maps that year.  Doug, a cigar-smoking jokester, slipped in a picture of a hot fudge sundae into my resupply box, retrieved from the Warner Spring Post Office later.

That incident had the usual inferences related to SPOT tracking.  However, there is another facet to spotting folks on the trail when looking at the Google maps on a two-dimensional computer screen.  That same year, while hiking on the JMT/PCT with my son Jacob and future-son-in-law Patrick, we merrily enjoyed our hike along the John Muir Trail.  Family and friends focused on our progress via the SPOT and Google superimposed tracks.  Once we returned home, I had several folks question our progress along several specific areas.  Looking at the map of these locations, it was apparent that these areas had high elevation gradients sections with steep switchbacks.   These challenging vertical sections for folk-uneducated in more nuanced aspects of topographic map detail would look at two-dimensional Google maps as a series of overlapping orange dots on the computer screen and wonder what was going on out there.  Interesting indeed.

Another result of this GPS technology is that these devices are fast becoming legendary as a life-saving tool or beacon for someone in trouble.  An example from 2017, during my spring solitary PCT hike in the Sierras north of Lake Tahoe.  A snowstorm of near-blizzard violence had caught me below a high ridge near the timberline and forced me to take shelter for several nights in my tent.  To my wife, Luann, that orange dot, unmoving for three days, meant I was dead, bear bait, feeding the worms, you get the picture.  Luann would have called out the military to rescue me if it had not been for my son-in-law Patrick.  An Eagle Scout and avid outdoorsman, Patrick had been watching the weather along my route.  Understanding where I was and the current weather conditions, Patrick considered the situation. He reassured a panicked mother-in-law that I was ok.  On the third day, the storm broke, and my Spot’s orange dot began moving once again on the home computer screen.

On that same trip, several of my “Spotters” discussed why my track appeared not to follow the trail.  Confusion reigned amongst these folks spawning conversations about why Dave wandered over the PCT Trail line in a zig-zagging path.  I overlapped the trail in quarter-mile eastward only then to veered westward over the track for another half-mile in a wayward fashion.  Back and forth for days.  Confusion amongst friends? You bet!  Why?  Well, the trail was covered in a deep spring snowpack, buried in fact.  Signs, tree blazes, markers, and PCT emblems were nowhere to be seen in the deep snow.  Conserving my GPS battery, I was using map and compass to follow the trail orienteering from one landmark to another,

Obviously, kinfolk following hikers along the trail via a tracking device retains a propriety attitude toward their favorite hiker.  Actively considering “they” are, in fact, part of the adventure, living vicariously through the daily movement from the device strapped to a dusty pack.  You might get the impression that almost every “Spotter” in my life nowadays has a Dave yarn or two to tell. Many of these should be preserved for posterity. 

On another trip, difficulties began when I included a new friend, Steve, on my PCT Spot tracking list.  During this particular PCT adventure, I encountered heavy snow depths on the PCT in Northern California. An impending spring storm approached the higher elevations out of Castle Craig’s State Park.  After a quiet night's sleep, I awoke to boiling grey clouds, falling snow accompanied by a winter storm warning.  Careful consideration of the weather and the impending climb to higher elevations coming along this trail section for the next 60 miles, I pulled the plug on the hike and retreated home. 

Unfamiliar to my antics on the trail in the past, Steve was confused about why the orange dot was moving back down the trail along the same path from the day before. He contacted several of my friends about my wanderings. Technology malfunction?  Nope, just a wise hiker returning home.  Being spotted by spotters with my Spot on backpack, once again.

However, consider this; carrying a GPS transponder on a pack is an insurance policy for protection from the trail's worst events.  Let me share the story about another hiker, George, from Palo Alto, CA.  On June 30, 2008, during a summer backpacking trip in California’s Kings Canyon National Park, the 52-year-old hiker found himself suffering from acute abdominal pains on day ten of a 200-mile hike along the John Muir Wilderness Trail. At approximately 11:00 pm, George’s pain worsened, which led him to end his trek early and initiate an emergency alert with his SPOT transponder.

From George: “My friend and I were enjoying a great trip when I began experiencing an intense pain in my stomach near Safire Lake as we were setting up camp for the night.”  “I knew something was very wrong, but being so far removed from any help at 10,800’ elevation and deep in the backcountry, I had no choice but put my faith in the SPOT, which I recently purchased for checking in with my family during his expeditions, press the 9-1-1 button and wait for help.”

The GEOS international response center received the message from George’s SPOT unit shortly after 11:15 pm and relayed the information to the Kings Canyon Ranger Center. Due to darkness and the ruggedness of George's terrain, the Ranger had to wait until daybreak before he hiked to George’s location to assess the situation.

According to rescue officials, when they reached George, his pain was severe, and there was no way for him to make it off the mountain on his own. That was when they requested a helicopter for an evacuation.  George was flown to the Community Medical Centers in Fresno. He underwent immediate surgery for a perforated intestine, which, if left untreated, can be fatal. He was released from the hospital a few days later.

This is beautiful technology — the GPS transponder allowing hikers on the trail to happily wander through the mountains in relative safety.  Friends and families able to follow the trek from afar.  However, for the hiker going about his way on the trail, the technology is innocuous. Nevertheless, for those following, the technology can spawn a myriad of concerns, humor, and dismay, just like an evening at your local tavern.

[geekkatsblog]

Grey’s Anatomy season 16x18 review (I am so confused.)

This episode was resting in the middle of boring but with some huge plot twists involved.

Let’s start with the most confusing/biggest plot twist of the episode.

________________________________________________________________

Deluca

Finally had his break down, or did he? On one hand I did think that the girl was extremely nervous and looked at her aunt for every answer. I found that odd but as a person with anxiety I can understand having someone do it for you. But when he started talking about the trafficking thing I was shook, but then he started pushing his theory on everyone and re arranging a very lovely schedule to follow his theory of the girl being in a sex trafficking ring, and I was like Deluca has gone off, the moment with them circling him to detain him was so heartbreaking the look of confusion on his face and him begging them to believe him, and his sister Carina crying for him to calm down you could visibly see the concern and pain on her face and then Deluca finally went with the guards and quit his job only for Meredith to talk him out of it by promising to call the authorities to check out the case. (The ending though left me confused not only because they just let him walk out of the hospital after having a ‘mental breakdown’ but his theory was RIGHT??? now I really hope not because that would cause drama because not only would the hospital be in trouble for letting them leave but Deluca would thing that he’s fine and carry on the way he is. He may have been right but he is definitely having issues other wise. I really hop that some one helps him soon or we’re going to have a Deluca accident on our hands. (It has been a while since one of the more important characters has had an accident.

________________________________________________________________

Teddy/Owen/Koracick  (Thank God for small mercies that Amelia and Link were able to step out of that mess.)

First thing first, I’m so proud of Tom for turning Teddy down and telling her to go back to Owen he crushed me at the point when he said he’d be fine because it means he’ll be fine alone like he always is.(When are they going to let him into their club.) It’s for the best and my boy Tom though, so can move on to better things, there’s more fish in the sea honey. provided that he isn’t arrested for fraud. He told Teddy to go home to her fiance and kids and plan her wedding, You go Tom.

I do not know what is going on with Teddy, she really is shocking me, her anger with Amelia is unfounded in my opinion, It would have been different if she was single, but she was dating Link and in the end the person she was in the relationship should know first, and she was trying to get the situation under ,control and her knowing about Amelia’s paternity issue is not at fault for her cheating. The idea had to be in her head for a while and she just too the first excuse and ran with it.

 Tom did her a favor telling her go to Owen. She has been in love with him and fought for him since the beginning, now that she has him she’s ruining it. But however this has to be the most serious and relatable love triangle we’ve seen on Grey’s, usually they’re flirty, sexual and immature but in this one you can see how torn Teddy is, she’s in love with Tom and how good he makes her feel but is in love, is engaged and has two kids with Owen, (who is actually being a pretty good partner for once in a relationship.) For the first time since the Derek/ Finn/ Meredith love triangle I’m interested in seeing what happens. In the end when she wanted to tell him the truth I actually felt sorry you could see the guilt and confliction on her face. She really in love with both men.

________________________________________________________________

Levi/ Nico 

I think out of all of the things of Grey’s this one upset me the most. I don’t understand what happened. How did Nico do a whole 180 turn in like half a season. I loved their relationship. One of the only ones who had fun conversations instead of just arguing and sex, but now Nico has decided he wants that for them and not even the arguing just the sex. I would have never guessed he would have gotten like this he was so sweet. But nope he literally broke up with Levi because Levi wanted to be able to share his opinion in a relationship which is definitely an important part of any relationship. Then he applied for a job that he’s going to be away for at least 6 months a year and didn’t even think to discuss it with Levi. That’s crap a decision like that would affect the person you’re in a relationship with and you should at least discuss it with them even if you do still take the job. (I remember in season 8 Ben and Bailey had a similar problem when he applied to be a surgical intern an didn’t tell her and they had a conversation just like the one Levi and Nico needs to have.) Quite honestly right now their relationship is looking quite one sided an Helm was right. Levi deserves better. They basically broke up in this episode and I’m sad because I really was pulling for them. 

Levi’s living arrangements were unexpected but I’m glad he’s leaving his mom’s basement and Nico’s apartment. It’s time for him to be more on his own, he needs to be able to stand up for himself instead of being the cute puppy who gets kicked around.

________________________________________________________________

Jo

My poor baby, she seems so confused and hurt right now. She sleeps on her couch instead of the bed and is just flat out depressed I feel so sorry for her and now that Link’s a dad and won’t be around as much as used to be and Deluca is out for sure right now so I guess her and Levi are going to be friends right now and I hope they are only going to be friends because they’re relationship was toxic from the beginning she used him and then treated him like crap (Still does from time to time.) Friends sure, because it really does look like he needs someone and right now so does she but nothing else. The scared me with Jackson asking her out to the game for a moment I thought they were going to be a thing but we dodged that bullet I guess. I hope she can find a last name as well because it hurt to see her trying to define herself. Looking forward to seeing what name she’s going to choose .

________________________________________________________________

Link/Amelia

Finally able to return to baby bliss. They are so adorable, and they better be end game. Amelia has had enough relationship problems. It’s time for her to get a break from the drama and have some peace. I’m just so happy she and Link are back together. He gave up his dream job for her and his baby and she was willing to make it work so he could pursue it. with some better communication I think they can be Grey’s second power couple (Fingers and toes crossed.)

________________________________________________________________

Jackson 

Just broke up with Vic and so he has an extra ticket for a basket ball game, was blown off by Ben as well and offered it to almost everyone he saw but Koracick. I wanted him to end up having to ask him maybe he would notice that Tom isn’t actually a douche and Tom could actually have a friend (who is going to hurt him by having an affair with him and may go back to her fiance and kids) but as usual in order to paint him out as the worst person ever Jackson refused to ask him which leaves room for my wish that Bailey would be his person. Then he asked Dr Haynes, I wished that he had gone with him because he’s yet another doctor who’s outside the club and that would have been the perfect time to gain the acceptance. Him asking Richard thought was perfect, he needs some one right now and he was kind of like a father to Jackson so it’s good to see that they can still spend time together without Catherine. 

Right now Jackson is just living his life carrying on the teachings of Mark Sloan. 

(Where’s Harriet though? We haven’t seen her in 2 years, I know she’s with April But She doesn’t visit either)

_______________________________________________________________

Richard

Is on his way to sell his path’s pen seeing that he can’t do surgery anymore. I hope he gets through, at this point I feel like the chances of him getting back with Catherine is very slim, I’m glad to see that him and Maggie’s relationship is stronger than ever and Jackson took him out for the night and Bailey and Meredith will always be there for him So I hope that he knows that he has support and people who love him.

_______________________________________________________________

Meredith

Didn’t actually have much plot besides planning the event and then solving it. Her helping Deluca was good. I don’t think her getting back into something with him would be a good thing. I’ve been wondering if his illness was even what caused him to push into a relationship with her. 

Either way she planned the surgeries, then had to save the surgeries by accepting Koracicks fraud money. (She wouldn’t be Meredith Grey if she didn’t tbh, anytime there’s a storm coming Meredith Grey is going to be in it.) Delt with some disgruntled patients, Spoke to Dr Haynes and saved some lies.

_______________________________________________________________

Bailey

Winning the Grey’s relationship game as usual, had to pull Deluca from attacking a patient and allowed him to leave alone after the meltdown and saved lives.

________________________________________________________________

Maggie

Spoke to Richard and that was about it, but her time is coming next week, based on the promo. (You get it hun.)

________________________________________________________________

Notes/ Questions

Was that girl really in a trafficking ring?????? (She had the hair like the woman, but that’s easy to fake but she also had a good cover story, and the girl ran to her when Deluca was having his melt down but the way that woman pulled her away at the end Idk. hope it isn’t bring confusion to Grey Sloan.

Is Deluca going to get the help he needs before he gets hurt or ends up in more problems?

Is Richard going to be ok? or is he going to have a relapse? Will he and Catherine get back together?

What’s going to happen to my baby Jo? And what will she call herself now?

Is Tom going to be in trouble? what he did was illegal even if for a good cause. And is Meredith going to be involved if he should go down? She did accept the money

Are Levi and Nico officially over? Will Nico take the job or choose Levi? 

And last but not least What the hell is going to Happen to the Teddy/ Owen / Koracick triangle. Will she finally confess?

[underatedcharactersunite]

Opposite Attraction

Prompt;  The Joker's scouting Bruce Wayne's penthouse, upon looking in a pair of binoculars he catches a glimpse of you. He's immediately obsessed with you,  and he has to have you.  So what happens when he takes you? Prompt; Hades and Persephone AU  Pairing; Joker X Female Reader For; @helplessly-nonstop​ and @sporadic-fics​ writing challenge WordCount; 4,623 Warnings; Mentions of Kidnapping, violence, Angst, fluff

 Being a florist in Gotham was considered peculiar. Why? People's first thought had always been the same. Why do people need a florist in Gotham? To make wreaths due to all the killings that keep happening.

In reality, your job was so much more than making wreaths for funerals. You prepared bouquets for the elderly gentlemen that came infrequently. Valentine's Day, Anniversaries and avid gardeners frequented the florist.

However, contrary to people's beliefs, you did have one peculiar client who required your services frequently. It wasn't funeral services. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, playboy needed your services more frequently than anyone else.

Whether he was holding a party or a fundraiser, he relied on your services. Over the many years of working together, the two of you became excellent friends. You were one of the few people that Bruce knew he could trust and rely on whenever he was busy.

So when Bruce decides to throw a fundraiser in Harvey Dent's honour, you expect him to give you a couple of weeks notice. In Bruce's spontaneous nature, he gives you only two days. Most florists would have declined the job straight away. However, you knew that you could manage to pull some strings. It was often wise for you to name drop who you were trying to complete the work for. Bruce didn't need to know that.

However, everything wasn't as it seemed. As you prepared the many table centrepieces the day of the fundraiser, you couldn't fathom the danger it had put you in. 

Nearby in an abandoned skyscraper, The Joker was scouting the place out. Gotham was beginning to rebel against the criminal underworld that made Gotham so unique. A city where anyone could be whoever they wanted. Ever since the likes of Batman and Harvey Dent showed up, it had been nearly impossible to conduct business. The Joker couldn't have that now, could he?

He was going to kidnap Harvey Dent. Then he intended to figure out a diabolical way to convince him to change his mind. The Joker wasn't foolish enough to believe he could just saunter up into Bruce Wayne's penthouse. So for the past several hours, The Joker had been scouting the place out.

Thus far, it had been pretty borning. Everyone was rushing around, attempting to prepare for tonight's events. That was, however, until the elevator door opened, revealing the most beautiful women The Joker had ever seen in his existence.  She appeared to glide across the room as she placed the cardboard box on the ground gently. She spoke briefly to Bruce Wayne's butler, who began to call others to try and help her with something. Lifting the box, she began to make her way to a nearby table.

"Well Hello, beautiful, I wonder, if you will be attending tonight's entertainment," The Joker mumbled as he kept observing you as you began to work. It was quickly revealed that you were the florist. Each flower you attended to was held delicately with care. 

Preparation was finally complete. It had always filled you with pride whenever a vision came together. Bruce allowed you to use the spare bedroom so you could change into a beautiful deep purple length gown. Essentially you had done the hard part. Now all you had to do was walk around the room and listen. One aspect you despised about these gatherings was just how much the wealthy loved to gloat. If they weren't talking about how expensive their latest car was it was their billion-dollar homes.

At least Bruce used his wealth for good. He was always donating to the Orphanages and the homeless. Not to mention his nightly activities, you'd discovered Bruce's biggest secret by accident. You'd made your way to Wayne manor when you received an email about another potential event. Just as you walked through the door, Bruce appeared looking beat up in his full tactical gear. It was certainly a shock to discover that one of your closest friends was  The Dark Knight. You vowed with all of your heart that you'd keep his promise. It gave you a weird sense of pride whenever you saw a report of Batman taking another criminal off of the streets.

You were talking to one of Bruce's many associates. By talking you meant nodding as they boasted about their wealth. Mid conversation, Bruce pulls you away from the conversation without letting you excuse yourself from the conversation. 

"What are you doing? Bruce stop! What's going on?" Bruce pulled you towards the back before he even attempted to respond to you. It must have been bad because he never would have done that in a normal circumstance.

"They've come to get him," Bruce replied simply as he pointed to the screen to witness Joker and his men currently in the elevator. Your heart began to race, your palms sweaty. The Joker was here. Everyone in the main room was currently in danger. The worst part was there was nothing anyone could do.

You and Rachel stood together in the back, room waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the elevator doors rumbled as they opened. You observed as the Joker sauntered out of the elevator. He began to talk to the other partygoers adamant that he wanted to discover the location of Harvey Dent. He was constantly manhandling anyone that he fancied. Men, women, The Joker didn't care. As you stood observing him you became glad that you didn't understand what his motives were.

"You know I'll settle for his loved ones" The Joker commented, taking a single glance at Rachel. You already knew what she was thinking. She was going to confront The Joker. The plot was working through in her mind.  

"We've got to do something." Rachel was right.  Hopefully, Bruce was going to come out of nowhere anytime now. Taking one look at each other you, both stepped out of the room that you were hiding in.  

"Okay stop!" The Joker stopped dead in his tracks. The beautiful deep purple gown that cascaded over your body provided him with a perfect image of your body. Shoving the man he was tormenting out of the way, he made his way over towards you and Rachel. Your entire body tensed up The Joker seemed currently unphased by Rachel's appearance instead he's attention to be entirely on you.  

"Hello, beautiful," You stood your ground as he inched closer towards you, invading your personal space.

"Leave her alone." The Joker liked that you stood up to him. He liked that. For now, he'd have to depart your first meeting to attend to a pressing matter. He made a promise to himself that this was not the last time the two of you interacted. 

"You must be Harvey's squeeze, and you are beautiful." The Joker pushed his back with the knife in his hand, licking his scared lips as he approached. The Joker realised that you weren't scared of him. You kept an eye on him of course, but you weren't looking at him in disgust.

"You look nervous. Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got them? Come here" As The Joker violently took ahold of Rachel's face. As he drew the knife ever closer towards, her face, you couldn't work out what to do.  You weren't stupid enough to try and pick a fight with the Joker. Instead, you stood there feeling helpless against the Clown Prince, who held your close friend in his grasp.

 "Look at me. So I had a wife, beautiful like you. Who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with sharks. Hey, one day they carve her face and we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it, I just wanna see her smile again. Hm. I just wanna her to know I don't care about the scars. So I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. And you know what, she can't stand the sight of me. She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling. " You observed as the interaction took place. Ever since the Joker interrupted the fundraiser, he's told two different stories about the origin of his scars. You couldn't help but wonder what the truth was. 

Rachel punches The Joker in the stomach as your body freezes. To your knowledge, no one has ever laid their hands on the Joker and been able to get away with it. Instead of getting angry, he breaks out in hysterical laughter. "You gotta little fight in you, I like that."

"Then your gonna love me" Out of no-where, Batman appears. Soon enough there are punches, jabs and kicks being thrown around everywhere. You and Rachel stand there together holding onto each other, both knowing just who was behind the mask. The Joker approaches the two of you, trying to pull Rachel out of your grasp. Holding on with all of your might, you attempt to keep a grip on your friend.

"Please don't hurt her," You plead as he manages to remove her out of your grip. The Joker could make whatever promise you desired about protecting you. However, protecting your friends wasn't an option. It was all apart of a bigger idea. As he pointed the gun at Rachel's temple, he couldn't quite look within your direction.

"Drop the gun!”

"Sure you just take off your little mask and show us all who you are. Hm" The Joker takes his gun as he blows a hole in the window you realise what he's going to do. He's going to throw Rachel out of the window. 

 "Let her go"

"Very poor choice of words." As he drops Rachel out of the window, he turns and looks at you as you stare at him in utter disbelief. 

I'll be seeing you around beautiful" You froze as Joker's chilling words echoed through your mind, what did he mean? Unless he was going to interrupt yet another fundraiser or a charity event. Surely that was it, right?

Ever since the encounter with The Joker, you kept an extra eye out for anything peculiar. For several weeks, absolutely nothing happened you almost forgot about The Joker's warnings. There was not a threat insight.  Life became mundane once more, serving customers, opening up, closing after a long day.

This goes on until one day as you begin to arrange the flower arrangements for the day, With your back, turned you can't see the man coming behind you in a ski mask, gripping you tightly as he placed a rug over your mouth forcing you to pass out automatically. 

As your body fell limp into the man's arms, he scoops you up bridal carrying you into the large white van without so much as a care in the world. Resting you onto his lap as he sits down, he shots the driver a warning glance. Moments previously he'd observed the driver checking you out. That move was unacceptable he'd gladly blow the guys head off. Pulling off his ski mask, the Clown Prince revealed himself. You were finally his, quickly pushing your hair out of your face, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Meanwhile, Bruce had come into check-in on how you were. He's been doing this every day for the past couple of weeks ever since you mentioned that the Joker had directly threatened you. Each day he'd brought you something different first it was coffee and then it was that book you had desired to read.

When he pushed open the door, he expected you to come right out from the back. There was nothing no noise from you working in the back while it was quiet. Something's wrong. The doors have been left wide open the doors aren't locked, the flowers haven't been placed inside.  He knows you haven't closed the shop for the day. He knows you haven't gone to get lunch since you always order in.

Bruce enters the back swiftly he knows you have several CCTV camera's in the back. Next protocol was to call Alfred he'd be able to access the surveillance systems right away. Upon hearing that you've been captured, he has a pretty good idea on how the culprit was. Hearing that the van had a number plate was music to his ears and instructed Alfred to run the plates immediately.  

Just before Bruce left, he decided to close down properly. After everything you've done for him the past, present and future the least he could do was make sure you had a business to come home to. On his way to his car, he called his locksmith to get down here immediately so the place could be locked up securely. 

For many weeks afterwards, Bruce went out at night as the Dark Knight. Batman was looking for you. Every crook, every henchman was a potential avenue. Bruce made sure to target the men who had squealed to him in the past yet, they didn't know where you were.  Bruce was desperate for an answer. So one day he decided to change up his previous tactic. Instead of going out as the masked crusader he went out as the billionaire playboy. The homeless and low-level crooks recognise him immediately. Money talks so the people who wouldn't talk to the Batman will talk to Bruce Wayne for a price of course.

With the people willing to squeal and reveal all they know, there are also people reporting back to The Joker upon every ounce of new news that they discover. No matter how small or how large Joker knew what was going on. It began to feel as if the two were going in circles, knowing each other's plans but never being able to understand any of it. Batman was after Joker and Joker were determined to make sure that the two collided whenever the time was right. 

Whilst Brue was out searching high and low for you the Joker had brought you to an abandoned building where he was currently keeping base. He knew that now The Batman was attempting to locate his location, he'd have to move the both of you soon.

Your safety was now paramount to him. The Joker was, even more, kill friendly, anyone who he believed was a threat to you, would die and die painfully. For now, he wouldn't worry about that. You were due to wake up any second,  and The Joker was excited. He'd brought you a decent mattress with a duvet. So you'd be comfortable when you awoke from your slumber. 

Your eyes fluttered open, the ache in your head, barely there. Looking around you, were no longer outside. In-fact now you were inside in an abandoned building of some sorts. Your hand presses down on the gentle fabrics of the duvet on top of your body. 

"Well, sleeping beauty is finally awake." Your head snapped up towards the location of the voice. The Joker had taken you. Keeping his promise that the two of you would see each other once more.

"What do you want from me?" You said through gritted teeth, everything was suddenly flooded back to you. The shop was currently wide open, for anyone to enter as they pleased. 

"I want nothing from you per se. Let me ask you, have you ever been in one of those situations where you can't get someone out of your head. I think you call it to love at first sight. You see I saw you before you saw me, I was scouting the place when I saw you creating those table arrangements. I couldn't get you out of my head. For weeks now, I've been unable to focus because you weren't with me." You're confused as you observe the man in front of you. The man at the fundraiser was ruthless and aggressive, and now here he was in front of you pouring his heart out? He's staring at you like a lovesick puppy. 

"What happens to me now?" You've very aware of the dangerous situation you're currently in. The Joker wasn't a man to be messed with. He could be callous and cruel. 

"Nothing bad. Wherever I'll be, you'll be. I'll let you in on a little secret I don't trust a single person, currently working for me. I'm going to teach you how to protect yourself so they know not to mess with you, whether I'm here or not." The entire time he's running his knife gently across your face as you wither in fear. You kept your eyes locked with his deep chocolate brown seeing a peculiar sense of kindness mixed in with everything else.

"Now get some sleep while I fetch you some food. You must be exhausted from your adventure today."

This starts some sort of routine between the two of you. The Joker brings you in food, teaches you some self-defence, uses the bathroom all in one room. This was your life now, Joker comes in to talk to you and eventually you begin to talk more. 

Being a florist meant you were frequently sociable with other people. So, in the end, it became vital for you to talk to him. At first it had been extremely difficult, he was one of your closest friends arch-nemesis. On the other hand, the entire time you had been with him, he had never raised a hand to you. Never gone to hurt you and made time with you no matter you said to him. 

One morning you wake up, the moment you realise you're not alone in your bed you freak out. Moving away as far away from the mattress as possible you look up realising it's just J. This wasn't just J, appearing inspection you realised he wasn't wearing his usual clown make up. Curiosity got the better of you as you crawled over to him.  Joker's shock is an understatement. His eyes are locked onto your every movement. You're not disgusted by them or repulsed, that curious little spark he sees in your eyes relaxes him instantly. Ever so slowly you place your hand onto the edges of his mouth tracing the lining of his scars. 

"How did you get your scars?" Joker observes as your hands are lingering on his face. He wants to hold your hands there forever. Within the same moment, he doesn't want to push you either. Deciding to make a move of his own, he holds your hand in a place delicately. 

"When I was entering Gotham's criminal underworld, I wasn't as powerful or as dominating as I am now. Just a man with a clown gimmick. I was just starting, hustling low ranking mobsters out of their money, until one day I met a mob boss named Burke. At the time he ruled Gotham's Underworld. Being the big shot that I thought I was I challenged Burke broke into the warehouse where he kept all of his money. Over one million dollars I took from him because I thought I could get away with it. I didn't have the backing that I do now. People all over the place hear my name and are terrified. Back then Burke was that guy, he found me with ease. The guys who worked with me were the biggest bunch of cowards. He finds me, tortures me for over a week. Takes his knife like I do now and cuts my face into the smile. He left me after doing these I think he thought I'd die from the cuts. I was close to it, but by some miracle, I managed to get through it stitched my own face up. It's when I leant to not target the head first you want the victim to feel everything you're inflicting on them. So now I'm always smiling.  Not that I need these whenever I'm around you, those are real."  You feel sorry for him, the pain that he must have endured must have been horrendous. You cup his face gently running your thumb over his scars softly. Joker's amazed that someone as innocent as you care enough to touch him tenderly.  

"So I've got a surprise for you. Come on." Joker takes ahold of her hand pulling her up. Their hands never part from each other. Even when the two enter the new room one in which you've never been in before.

"Ta-Da. I had someone break into your house, make a list of all your favourite things." You glance through the bags to realise everything was here. Your favourite clothing, make up brands, skincare. Everything you could have asked for was loaded into these bags. In a second your arms were wrapped tightly around J, in the beginning, his entire body was tense until he began to relax into the warm embrace mirroring the touch and wrapping his arms around you.

Joker couldn't believe it as several days went by. You were comfortable. As you roamed the building, they were currently living in, you showed more interest in his world.  If you didn't understand something, you asked about it. You got up and dressed every day to see what he was up too. You asked him to stay with you at night. All of this made Joker's heart swell, could you perhaps fall in love with him the way he loved you. 

Everything was going so beautifully, until one day J comes in panicked. You instantly rush towards him as your heartbeat fastens. He's never panicked. Behind him, two men are dragging another. J's face explains everything you need to know, he's betrayed him in some sort of way.  J pulls out a knife and begins to torture the man to death slowly. You have seen this several times since J decided to take you. It no longer bothered you, did you agree with murder? No, but your feelings for J clouded that. There is good in his heart and that's the side you choose to see above all else. The second the torture is over, everyone is in complete chaos.

"Go pack as much as you can as quickly as you can." You run as fast as you can to your isolated room, gathering you can as quickly as possible, shoving everything into bags. Then suddenly the connection snapped in her brain, Bruce was coming to get her. At one time or another, it would have been a relief, however now your exactly where you wanna be. Of course, you wish you could spend more time around nature and flowers but you want to be with J at the same time.  Running towards J with the bags in your arms, taking ahold of your hand tightly, he leads you to a large white van throwing your bags into the back before following the bags. Once settled inside he wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Do you know why we have to leave?"

"More than you know"

Whilst everything is purely chaotic, Batman is currently in pursuit of the white van that he knows holds you. Placing a small explosive at the end of the truck, he waits as the truck flips over in an instant. Bruce hears the distinctive scream coming from your lips. Wasting no time, he rips the sliding door off of the back of the truck. Grabbing The Joker out the truck, he begins to punch Joker repeatedly. Each punch to The Joker's face is personal, he took someone he cares about away from him. Bruce and Joker are going at it like two rabid dogs forgetting about you who is currently remaining the truck.  

Laying there, your eyes fluttered open a distinctive busy noise pounded your ears. Everything on your body suddenly feels like it's been weighed down on. Your body is battered and bruised as you attempted to get up. One try. Two tries. Three tries. The determination forced you to get up, stumbling out of the turned over van.

"Stop...Stop...Stop!" Observing the two men who meant a lot to you fighting in such a brutal way made you feel sick. You weren't able to approach them by a few mislay steps before you fell. Bruce makes his way towards you immediately using a new piece of technology to examine your body to check for any hidden injuries. 

"Your safe now," Bruce spoke to you softly laying a hand on your arm. 

"I was never in any danger, to begin with." The mask might have hidden Bruce's face, but you knew the confusion that was currently plastered all over it. 

"He's tortured you to make you believe that. The Joker is not a good person. Your tired and traumatised, you have no idea what you're saying right now." You sit there trying to remain focused, Bruce is lying. He doesn't understand the Joker as you do. 

"I've been living with him for months and he's never raised a hand to me or hurt me in any fashion."

"What about your life? You can't have everything you've built if you decide to be with him." You're sick and tired of being told about how to feel.

"She can have her life back, whatever she wants. As long as she promises to come back to me at the end of the day." Bruce watches the interaction between the two of you. The Joker acting like a human being rather than an animal.

"You know I can't support this," Bruce tells you softly. Your struggling to focus on his face but you understand. Bruce wouldn't be Bruce if he didn't.

"After everything, I do for you, give me this, please. You don't have to support what I want, you don't have to care but you have to trust my decisions and what's best for me."

"Fine, but you have to go to the hospital." You don't argue as Bruce carries you away. Friendship had always been a two-way street.

Later that night, as you laid in your hospital bed you realised how lucky you were to be alive. Your body was smothered in injuries, thanks to Bruce's small explosion. Spending time with Joker forced you to become hyperaware of your surroundings. So when you realise someone's sitting in the dark corner of the room your heart rate begins to increase. When the person comes into the light you realise it's Joker. You attempt to slow your breathing. J takes your hand immediately. 

"You're going to get caught." You reprimanded him, but in true Joker style he shrugs it off.

"It's all about fun." The comment doesn't quite reach Joker's eyes. As you attempt to lean up your quickly pushed back down onto the bed gently.

"Your hurt." Instead, he leans forward to your level.

"I need to know if it's true what you said to the Batman, do you want your life back?" You nod but weakly lays a hand on his face traces the marks on his scars.

"I do. But I want to be with you too." J didn't hesitate this time, kissing you with all your might. The kiss isn't slow or gentle but passionate and rough. You knew however he was still holding back.

"You can work and live your life as much please but you have to promise me at the end of the day you return home to me and that you always wear that bracelet and no matter what you don't take it off. That way everyone knows that your mine and I am yours. I'll even let you pick something to prove that I'm yours." The two of you shared a moment briefly just gazing into each other's eyes.

"Could you imagine if I just surprised you at work, your customers would have a fit" Some of your customers would definitely have a fit about your new boyfriend and your life was about to change however it was going to be an incredible adventure.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Nathan’s Appointment

“Nathan Cassidy…” Sydryn tapped the edge of their lip with a pen. “You’re still a pretty new patient. I think you’ve known Dr. Gardi longer than me at this point.” “Yeah. I heard he’s sick. Is he okay?” “He’s recovering,” Sydryn stated, a little irritated that every patient had asked the same despite having sent out an email on the matter. “A lot has happened with you since I left, it seems. While I am not too surprised, I didn’t expect you to get pregnant.” “Yeah.” Nathan rubbed his neck. “Apparently my wolf side is female…” “Yes, I’ve been reviewing your case this last couple days,” Sydryn explained. “Yours is the most curious I have. A lot of theory, not a lot of fact.” They pulled out a USB drive and plugged it into a computer. “Luckily, I’ve been able to do some research while I was away on the nature of werewolves and were-beasts in general and we can get some facts for you.” “You did research on me during your vacation?” Nathan inquired. “You shouldn’t have…”

“It wasn’t a vacation. To be general, I went home for a family event,” Sydryn stated. “And none of us can stand each other, so I spent a good amount of time on research, not just for your sake.” “Oh. Okay, I get that…” Nathan nodded. “What’d you find out?” “Well, the documentation of half human half animals dates well back before common era,” Sydryn stated. “The thing is there’s many ‘legendary’ creatures known to have been half animal and man, such as the minotaur, some gods like Anubis, some spirits, like kitsune, but specifically wolves… The earliest record of a person turning into a wolf is in the epic of Gilgamesh, in which a woman had turned her ex lover into a wolf. There are other cases in ancient Greek and Nordic folklore, but this seems to be the story most like yours.” “But, these are just stories, right?” Nathan assumed. “Not history?” Sydryn rolled their eyes. “…Nathan, I’m a dragon.” “A dragon?!” Nathan stared at his doctor. “You’re not serious.” “I couldn’t be more serious,” Sydryn stated, letting their horns spring out their head. “History is stories. That’s entirely the point. Much of what we think is fact is fiction. Much of fiction is fact. To dismiss any record as a story would to foolish and naïve. To believe every single record would also be naïve. Thankfully I have spent multiple centuries on the Earth and I can sniff out a fib from a truth pretty well. Not to mention, we have kept our own records on mankind and otherwise, and thankfully, I do believe that this Gilgamesh story is related to your origin.” Nathan was still staring at Sydryn’s horns. “Jesus…” “Has very little to do with it.” Sydryn took a look through their records. “We prefer to call our records ‘the Chronicle’ instead of history considering that the term ‘history’ derives from the word ‘histor’ which means ‘learned, wise man’ considering the fact that we are not men, but dragons. So the Chronicle… I was not born by the time of Gilgamesh, but my ancestors were and they recorded the same findings within the Chronicle on this wolf. So, what I assumed was this. The lover the woman changed into a wolf is the origin of your affliction.” “A Mesopotamian wolfman?” Nathan tried to follow. “Yes. However, after going over Reid’s research notes here, I believe I was wrong,” Sydryn stated. “Oh.” Nathan was disheartened. “The only reason I would change this conclusion is the following,” Sydryn began. “Most if not all recordings of wolfmen have been just that. Men. But this bear mate you encountered, Dawson Grace, alleges that the women are the werewolves, or more originally wifwolves, and they only intend to recruit women. “With this information, I wondered if werewolves and wifwolves exist separately from each other with different origins. But then there’s the information Grace provided. That the transformation makes men more aggressive than women and less likely to remember their transformations. Considering most records of werewolves are men, this would make sense. If women have control of themselves as wolves, they’d do better to conceal their existence. Men wouldn’t be so lucky and would be more likely to be seen and recorded. Which leads me to the conclusion that the woman in the Gilgamesh story who turned her lover into a wolf is the true origin of the werewolf, not the lover.” “I see…” Nathan nodded. “Okay, okay, but how does that help me?” It helps a lot,” Sydryn stated. “That woman was known as the goddess Ishtar. We know little about her, but if a god did this to you, then only a god can undo it.” “A god?” Nathan leaned back. “I uh, I don’t know any gods.” “Except that you do,” Sydryn said. “Gardi’s recorded that you’ve been attending a pregnancy group here attended by a dog spirit.” “Yori?” Nathan blinked. “Yori’s a god?” “I am led to believe as much,” Sydryn stated. “Or at least enough like a god to be considered one by an early developing civilisation.” Nathan leaned forward. “…Are you suggesting that he could be…her?” Sydryn shook their head slowly. “…Not quite. Perhaps, but he doesn’t quite match up. But, he might know something about your condition,” Sydryn said. “Dealing with his kind though is very troubling when you want answers. Gods, spirits, such… They like to stay mysterious. They’re not a fan of straight answers. I would suggest befriending him and he may reveal to you something useful.” Nathan frowned and looked down. “…That’s it then? Your lead is ‘hang out with Yori’?” “At the moment yes. That’s what I have for you.” “Any chance I can see any of that research?” Nathan asked. Sydryn tapped their chin and turned to the computer. “…I will allow you some records from the Chronicle that pertain to your case. How good are you at reading cuneiform?” “…Uh, I’m a little out of practice.” Sydryn raised a manicured finger. “Give me some time to make some translations and I will deliver you copies to your room. You may not share any of it with anyone, not even your new lover.” “My…Uh, I don't…” “Nathan, it’s not worth lying to me. I know you and the thunder boy have been courting each other. You reek of it.” “We haven’t even had sex…” “I know. You should just do it and get it over with honestly. If you’re worried about him not being attracted to your naked body, I can assure you he won’t be.” “Uh, um…” Nathan blushed, feeling really embarrassed. “You don’t have to reply.” Sydryn stood up and looked over Nathan, taking a moment to feel his ears and check his scars. “Open your mouth.” They checked his canines. “Good. It appears your permanent transformations haven’t progressed any further since I last saw you. You’re good to go if you don’t have any questions.” “You’re not going to check my pregnancy?” Nathan asked. “No, your previous check up was recently enough,” Sydryn stated. “But that does bring up another thing. We’re going to move your Cesarean up to…” They checked their calendar. “Monday. It wouldn’t be safe to delay it any longer.” “Monday? That’s in four days!” Nathan was a little shocked. “Will they be okay? Not too premature?” “You’ve been in wolf cycle for two days and your wolf has been observed preparing for the birth. The twins should be alright, but we don’t exactly know what to expect, do we?” Sydryn said. “Werewolf births are rarely recorded in the Chronicle but they’re there. Problem is the bear cub you’ve got as well. That’s where I’m concerned. By bear standards, they should have been born already so we don’t know what effect this extended gestation will have on them.” Nathan looked down to his stomach and rubbed it slowly. “…Okay. You’re going to perform the surgery?” “Yes.” “How many hundreds of years have you been a doctor?” “Hm… About a century and a half,” Sydryn said. “Not a long time but we had to go in hiding around the time of the age of exploration.” “Okay…” Nathan felt a little reassured. “Monday.” “Monday. I’ll send you the time. Anything else I can help you with?” “No, I think that’s all…” Nathan got up and held the underside of his stomach. “Anything I need to do to prepare?” “I’ll send Aoife to your room to go over some preparations. It’s not so much personal upkeep you need to be aware of than personal preferences,” Sydryn explained. “Okay. Thank you…” Sydryn saw how nervous Nathan was and put a hand on his shoulder. “I can understand that you might feel a little scared. Changing doctors mid pregnancy can be scary. Dr. Gardi was doing a pretty good job with you. Compared to him, I’ve been told I can be a little blunt or cold. Especially recently. But I still have your best interest in mind.” “Yeah, thanks, doc.” Nathan nodded and smiled a bit. “I’m pretty scared.” “Everyone’s scared. It’s natural. You can’t survive without fear. Those without fear are fools.” Nathan nodded some more. “Okay. I’m gonna go.” “Alright. Eat more meat.” “Okay.”

[janelevy]

Prompt: Connor's sister Claire, wanting to meet Ava for dinner

i did my best to keep claire in character, but with what little we’ve seen of her (i’m almost positive the med writers forgot connor has a sister after s1), i don’t think it’ll be a big deal if she is or not. enjoy!

It wasn’t often that Ava found herself nervous, but she couldn’t deny the fizzy feeling in her stomach as she walked into the restaurant. She got there extra early to give herself time to mentally prepare and to make sure she would be the first one there. She walked up to the hostess stand and after she was seated, told the hostess that she was expecting someone else in about twenty minutes. She let them go ahead and pour two glasses of water, the ice cubes clinking way too loud and ringing in her ears. Then she ordered herself a dry martini to start off because this was definitely going to be a long dinner.

“Claire’s really sweet when you get to know her,” Connor had assured her when he told her about the “date” he set up for his girlfriend and his probably equally unwilling sister. “She just, you know, still kind of hates my guts.”

In response to that, Ava had tilted her head and scowled at him. “No, really? And you think she’ll be delighted to meet the doctor who let her father die?”

Connor’s face hardened and became completely serious after that. He stepped closer to her in the empty doctors’ lounge and pulled her into a tight embrace. A million years ago Ava would’ve been embarrassed by the action, but any of their colleagues who might walk by had witnessed enough of their PDA to not even bat an eyelash at it anymore. 

“Hey,” he’d said firmly, leaning back, making eye contact, and resting his hands on her shoulders. “Avey, you know none of that was your fault. Nobody knew that heart implant was a faulty product, least of all you. You wouldn’t have installed it if you knew what would happen.”

“Yes, but he was still under my care and--”

“It happened in the middle of the night during a shift change. You and I were at home and fast asleep. What could’ve been done?” Connor didn’t wait for a reply, which was wise because it didn’t give her room to object again. “Nothing. What happened, happened. It’s in the past. And Claire knows that too.”

Ava sighed. She really wished he would be able to come with her to dinner tonight, but he had traded shifts with another doctor so now he would be working through the night. Ava almost wanted to accuse him of trading shifts on purpose so he could avoid possible fallout between her and Claire at dinner, but then again, she had seen how exhausted Connor was when he got home last night hours after her. The emergency surgery he’d been called into ended up lasting forever. Needless to say, he deserved to sleep in this morning. It just sucked that the only time she would really see him today was right then in the lounge as she was leaving and he was coming in.

Ava was still mulling over this when she noticed Claire Rhodes herself sitting down across from her at the small table. Ava gulped and played with the end of the white silk tablecloth. Damn, Claire was almost ten minutes early. Ava wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, she still needed to think about what she would say! She wasn’t nervous just because of what happened to Cornelius - she also felt the need to impress her boyfriend’s little sister and earn her stamp of approval. But it seemed like the odds were already stacked against her.

“Hello. Ava, right?” Claire smiled and held out her hand for Ava to shake.

Ava took it and nodded, plastering what she hoped was a friendly, relaxed expression on her face. (It probably wasn’t.) “Hi, Claire. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” Claire gave the waiter her drink order and took a tiny sip of water. “So how have you been? Must be hectic sharing a place with my brother.”

“It’s... not too bad. He’s a bit of a snorer, though.”

They both laughed, and Ava felt her heart shed one layer of jittery nerves. So far, so good.

“That reminds me - I remember when Connor and I were really little, before he left, he would...” Claire paused there, and Ava’s heart jolted a little. Before he left. Connor had relayed to her a while ago about how hurt Claire was when he escaped Chicago and left her with their less than affectionate single father. Apparently she had still never completely forgiven him for it. Privately Ava wondered if Claire even liked working at the family department store.

Then she continued, “... he would, uh, always invite me to play racecars with him. We’d put our little matchbox cars out on the floor and drag them around. Carlotta would always scold us for marking up the fancy rug. But the sound effects Connor used to mimic racecar noises - I’ll never forget it.” She chuckled and went on, “For some reason he would use his nose instead of his mouth, and snort like a pig, which didn’t sound anything like a revving engine. I think he did it on purpose to make me laugh.” 

Again, the two of them laughed. Ava was amazed she had gotten a childhood story, however brief and innocent, out of Claire within the first ten minutes. Still, she couldn’t help but think about the underlying tone behind Claire’s words. That pause was really only a few seconds, but it had felt like hours. It was long enough for Ava to receive the message that relations between the siblings were still far from resolved. It wasn’t any average brother-sister relationship, and it was definitely something Ava would never be able to fully understand as an only child.

She and Claire continued talking, exchanging little anecdotes about Connor. Ava doubted Connor’s goal in getting them to meet was to spend the entire time making fun of him, but that was exactly what they were doing. Not that there was anything wrong with that; besides, it kept things on the light and cheerful side. Cornelius still had yet to come up and Ava was grateful. She was also hearing many little snippets of Connor’s childhood that even he had never told her. It was sweet. As imperfect as life had been growing up for him, especially following his mother’s suicide, Claire was offering her the perspective of the younger sister who had been too little at the time to understand things were amiss - at least, until Connor grew up and left her behind.

It was roughly halfway through the meal when Claire turned the tables on her. As another round of laughs faded, the younger woman sat back in her seat and set her fork down. “You know,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table, “this dinner date wasn’t only Connor’s idea.”

Ava raised her brows slightly and stared at Claire, silently willing her to elaborate. Claire looked back at her, and not for the first time tonight Ava was taken aback by her icy blue eyes - the same blue eyes as her brother’s.

“I suggested meeting you first, actually. The few times each year we actually talk to each other, he always finds a way to work you into the conversation. Eventually it became obvious to me that you weren’t just a coworker, you meant something more to him.” She hesitated, and Ava wanted to say something then, but she didn’t even know where to begin. Luckily Claire filled the silence again with more shocking words. “I... I imagine you must still feel some guilt over what happened with my father. Connor’s father.”

Ava looked down at the cloth napkin in her lap. The food in her stomach was suddenly roiling, and she could feel the sweat dripping down her back under her loose blouse.

“I’m so sorry--” she started, but Claire interrupted.

“No. You don’t have to say it. I- I know you must’ve said it a thousand times by now. It’s not your fault, Ava. I get that now.” Claire sighed. “My father was... well, he wasn’t a perfect man. There are times when I miss him a lot, which might be strange, I don’t know. But now that he’s gone, I’ve begun to realize how important family is, and that I have to try to mend things with Con. So that’s what I’ve been working on. One of the first steps was meeting you. And I like you a lot, Ava. You’re perfect for him.”

Now Ava knew the smile stretching her lips was genuine. “Thank you,” she said, amazed.

“Really,” Claire said. “You complement him in every way, and you contrast him in so many ways, but it works. I was so excited when he told me about proposing--”

This time it was Ava’s turn to interrupt, but she did it by way of choking on her drink. She slammed the glass back down, coughed a couple times until tears were in her eyes, then gasped, “What?”

Claire’s eyes were wide and panicked, the same way Connor’s would get whenever he pissed Ava off. “Oh! Oh my god. I- I did not mean to say that out loud. Sorry!” She gritted her teeth, searching Ava’s face. “But yes, he is planning to...” She trailed off, waving her hands helplessly. “You get the point.”

Ava shook her head. This must’ve been the fiftieth time she was ambushed out of nowhere tonight. She exhaled and smiled to show Claire there was nothing to be upset about. “That’s fine. Seriously. I just... wow, I had no idea. He’s usually terrible at hiding things.”

Claire smirked. “Believe me, I know.” There was a pause, then she shyly asked, “So, what do you think your answer will be?”

“I have a feeling it’ll be yes,” Ava replied, “if he impresses me enough.”

“Knowing Connor, he’ll achieve that.” Claire lifted her glass and clinked it against Ava’s. “A toast to my future sister-in-law. Sorry again about the reveal.”

Ava’s grin stayed strong, and right before she took a drink, she said, “Don’t sweat it. You just made my entire night.”

When Ava woke up the next morning, Connor was in bed next to her, and had probably only been there a half-hour before her alarm went off. She rolled over to face him and was met with a pair of anxious blue eyes. “Well?” he murmured groggily. “How was last night? Was Claire nice?”

“Honey, it was better than you could ever imagine.” Ava kissed his nose and ran a hand over his feathery dark hair. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll tell you all about it later.”