#it took 2 er trips to figure out what was wrong

[endlessbrainpain]

me: I have heart burn

my dad: why do you have heart burn?

me: I don't have a gallbladder any more!

my dad: oh right

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[chevelleneech]

Put me in the writer’s room, Tim!

Y’all know what would really spark Eddie’s feelings realization in s8?

Buck going missing.

Not injured, because he’s been physically hurt enough, but just missing. I don’t think we’ve seen him lost and the others having to find him, because the only time that would have been necessary was during the tsunami, and they didn’t know he was caught in it.

So I imagine it something like what the show Found did. They had a great episode where a couple went missing on a hike, and the woman got seriously injured, so the guy— a nurse— stayed with her to give her his blood until help came. Now, neither Buck nor Tommy are nurses, but I imagine Tim and co could figure out a way to have them go on a hiking date, then Tommy gets injured— solely because I do not want Buck injured again— and Buck secures him in one spot as he tries to find his way out of the ravine they fell down or something.

And because I’m not a BuckTommy hater as I’m sure some of their fans think, this would also serve as an episode that could open the door for us to learn what exactly Buck likes about Tommy. What is he seeking by dating Tommy, and whether or not in a moment of life and death, if Tommy is the person Buck wants to have a future with. An episode like this could easily be a “Buck Begins Again”, and focus on his sexuality and whether or not he truly never realized he likes men or was just suppressing it.

Now, imagine all of that happening on Buck’s day off around mid-day, then the next morning the 118 are starting their shift and everyone is confused as to why Buck isn’t at work. Gerard doesn’t give a fuck, obviously, and feels it’s an easy win to firing him, but Eddie is all… “No, something must be wrong. Buck is never not here..” So they call Tommy, but he of course doesn’t answer. Then they call Bobby, who talked to him the day before maybe, and says something like “He said he and Tommy were headed back. Maybe they got caught up or he’s just running late?”

So of course when Buck doesn’t answer anybody all morning, they all start to freak out because Buck doesn’t ghost people. He is the complete opposite of the type, but everyone is also still caught up at work and with Gerard and Councilwoman Ortiz breathing down their necks, they can’t jump to look for him. But you know who can? Maddie. And maaaaaayyyyybe we can wiggle it where Eddie had a scheduled trip to Texas to finally talk to Chris is person, but he’s conflicted about going now, because… it’s Buck. Chris would hate him even more if something happened to Buck, but he’s worried Chris will feel pushed aside again if he doesn’t go.

He ultimately decides to stay and help Maddie look for Buck though, because 1) if Gavin is really gone, obviously there’s no scenes to be had in Texas 2) he slowly realizes Buck means way more to him than he thought possible.

And because I am a Buddie prefer-er, Buck would also end the episode realizing dying on the side of a mountain as he grows increasingly dehydrated and tired, that the people he’d miss saying goodbye to the most does not include the man he walked up the mountain with. It’s Maddie; his sister and the woman who raised him to be the kind man he is today. Bobby; the man who took him under his wing and treated him the way a true father is supposed to. Christopher; the kid he didn’t know he wanted, but has given his heart to as a step-father-figure. And Eddie; the man he built a family unit with and whom he broke down over nearly losing more than once, whose home is a place of peace and comfort for him.

All of that said… am I looking forward to whatever s8 has in store? Not completely, and I already stated my piece on why. The way this season ended was pretty subpar, and because Tim and co refused to have Buck and/or Eddie so much as mention in passing the assumptions people have about them dating or any possible feelings for each other, I truly am not awaiting anyone’s future story arcs. I will still watch and care for the characters, hopefully, but putting thought into whatever eventually plays out on screen? I’m done. As of right now in canon, nothing is being resolved, everything is repetitive, and the actors are reaching a point of being like, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure it’ll work out.” Which is a bad sign. So I’m in headcanon all the way territory, and will enjoy what the actors I support put out as objectively as I can.

[nanasalt]

Character ask: King Agnarr(Musical/Film)

I feel like this is unfair because I answered some for Frozen 1 Agnarr and some for Frozen 2 Agnarr, except that the better Agnarr (Frozen 1) doesn't have enough personality or scenes to really answer all of these. So here we are.

favorite thing about them:

This is one of those Frozen 1 answers.

Agnarr clearly cares for his family. His worst choices come from making difficult decisions in an impossible situation. He and Iduna end up basically abusing and traumatizing both daughters via the separation, the neglect of Anna, and the repetition of the repression mantra for Elsa, but let's be honest: can any of us say we would've handled the situation better?

In a modern analogy, Elsa has a trait that makes her unavoidably lash out in moments of extreme emotion. When playing with her sister she accidentally lashes out and Anna ends up at death's doorstep; only rushing her to the ER and having her undergo traumatic brain surgery allowed Anna to survive.

As a decent father, separating the girls and focusing on getting Elsa's powers under control was obviously the top priority. Elsa even agrees with Agnarr! In the musical, Iduna argues that the girls should be kept together, and Elsa says "Mother, it's how it has to be. What's best for her is best for me," then turns to her father, who reassures her they'll find a way to control her powers. There is never an indication Agnarr and Iduna planned to keep their daughters separated forever, just until Elsa could be around people without accidentally hurting someone. The problem was that neither parent knew how to actually help Elsa; the trolls gave them the vaguest advice of avoiding "fear", which wasn't actionable.

Without help, the day the girls could reunite never came. After the parents died, Elsa tried to follow their advice, but she was a child without guidance. Of course she didn't do it right! And when she did reunite with Anna, exactly the thing they were all fearing happened: she was overwhelmed, lost control, and mortally wounded her sister.

Just ... Agnarr is a tragic figure. There was no good answer in his situation, especially if he was trying to be a good king on top of dealing with all this. It's part of why I prefer the idea that he died on just a normal diplomatic trip, because then the tragedy is human and normal. Frozen 2 saying that the parents died trying to find answers for Elsa makes the world feel small and boring and like nothing else ever happened.

So in summary: he's such an interestingly tragic character. I wish Frozen 2 had been content to leave him as a normal, tragic character instead of warping his whole life to revolve around Elsa.

least favorite thing about them:

As a person? Emotionally abusing both daughters for a decade. Not only was Elsa being taught to repress her feelings, but Anna was so neglected by both parents that she was talking to paintings for company while her entire family was in the same home. Just because her trauma didn't manifest in explosive, awful ways like Elsa's, it seems both parents assumed she was fine and handling it and never noticed that her cheer was another coping mechanism.

As a narrative device? I kinda like that he kicks off Elsa being wrong about how to control her powers and starts her and Anna on the path of trauma that leads to the horrific situation that forms the basis of Frozen.

In Frozen 2, I really hate that this man apparently never figured out his wife was a native woman and - separate to that - felt comfortable telling the story of the time his family massacred a whole tribe of native people as a bedtime story to his kids. Its a bad character trait and bad writing - two for one!

favorite line:

Had to ask the roommate for help, and she turned up:

Elsa: Were the Northuldra magical, like me? Agnarr: No Elsa, they were not magical, they just took advantage of the forest gifts. Their ways were so different from ours. But still, they promised us friendship. In honor of that, your grandfather, King Runeard, built them a mighty dam to strengthen their waters. It was a gift of peace.

The narrative framing is what really makes this [chef's kiss]. He's so, so wrong, and on top of it, he's blatantly ignoring Elsa's cry for reassurance that she's not alone.

Oh, but for Frozen 1 -- I saw a post once pointing out that the mantra Agnarr teaches Elsa is "conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show". It doesn't become "conceal, don't feel, don't let it show" until Elsa's had a lot of time to spiral alone and conflate her dangerous powers with her sense of self. It's a little detail but one that hurts me in a good way.

brOTP:

Does Agnarr have friends? I genuinely can't think of one. I like how musical!Agnarr interacts with his family. As mentioned above, I like that he and Elsa are on the same track when it comes to keeping Anna safe even if it means the girls can't be together.

OTP:

Agnarr/Iduna (musical edition)

nOTP:

Agnarr/Iduna (Frozen 2), though I've just started Dangerous Secrets and I think it might give Frozen 2 a run for it's money in terms of bad romance. The flawed premise is inherited from F2 thought so ... let's call F2 the worst.

random headcanon:

I like to believe that he's a good king of Arendelle. We have no evidence of this either way in the films, but it makes him more interesting if he was a decent king who was trying to balance that with his family life. I imagine he became a less stellar king after they had to close the family off from people, but still not bad.

(Sort of like Nicholas II pulling away from public life because he couldn't explain that the reason they kept a weird monk around was Alexei had hemophilia, but in this case it's because Elsa can kill people in a simple accident.)

Overall, the people of Arendelle remember Agnarr fondly but without a lot of detail.

unpopular opinion:

I simply do not care! And furthermore, there is nothing Disney or anyone else can do will make me curious about this man or his life. I don't care how he and Iduna met, I don't care who they were when they were younger, I just do not care. They exist to be Anna and Elsa's origin story, and that's it.

Also, I think the girls need to talk about the fact their parents sucked. They can't heal until they admit it.

song i associate with them:

"Monster" from the musical...? Mostly because Elsa invokes him by title in it. I don't think of Agnarr as a character much, but Agnarr the concept definitely haunts Elsa.

favorite picture of them:

One HUNDRED percent this picture of him talking about how his family massacred a native tribe, saying that the tribe attacked them (which is demonstrably wrong), not knowing his wife was on the massacred side.

Honorable mention to Iduna's absolute lack of reaction. No thoughts, head empty, if she confronted the fact she had two kids with this man she'd have to do something more drastic than occasionally singing her kids a native lullaby after her loving husband is safely gone.

That whole scene being the opening of the film sure was a choice!

I'm also fond of every single musical Agnarr, but he's not photographed as much.

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

she's her daddy's girl, her momma's world - chapter 34

make it go away (part one)

Maya’s first illness is a doozy.

Read on AO3 or below.

Being a new parent was scary.

There was a huge learning curve and so many unknowns. Although Kelly and Stella both took to parenthood like fish to water, things beyond their control, things they couldn't plan for, still tested their confidence as parents.

One of those things? Their teeny, tiny two-month-old baby getting sick for the first time.

It was flu season and RSV was running rampant across the country and every time Stella turned on the news, she felt like the only thing she would see was stories about RSV and record-breaking hospitalizations. It was scary and every story made Stella hold Maya that much closer.

With her still being on maternity leave and snow having already made its home throughout Chicago, Stella didn't take Maya out much. Doctor's appointments, grocery shopping (curbside pickup), and the occasional trip to visit Kelly at the station when Stella was feeling stir-crazy were the only times Maya ever left the safety and security of the loft. No one other than Kelly and Stella was allowed to kiss Maya and their friends had to practically bathe in hand sanitizer before getting to hold the infant. It was all to keep the baby safe, but germs were everywhere and even though those around her were careful, Maya still got sick.

It started with a stuffy nose and a cough. Kelly noticed it first when he got Maya up in the morning when he got home from his shift. The baby had been extra clingy the day before but neither parent could figure out why…until the coughing started.

Maya's cough lingered for a few days. It wasn't really getting better, but it also wasn't getting any worse.

Until it did.

They first noticed something else was wrong when they felt how warm Maya was when she woke up from her nap. She had a slight fever of 99.6, which thankfully wasn't high enough to mean a mad dash to the nearest ER, but it did cause some nerves for the new parents, especially when paired with Maya's newly acquired cough. Stella called their pediatrician's office but because it was the weekend, she only got to speak to the off-hours nurse who was, in Stella's opinion, less than helpful.

They tried their best to keep Maya's fever down and make sure she stayed hydrated, but her cough and stuffy nose made nursing harder (and messier) than usual. Finding a balance between keeping the infant cool and keeping her in front of the humidifier to help with her cough and congestion was difficult but Maya was still her calm, happy self regardless of how bad she felt.

Her fever fluctuated throughout the night, keeping both anxious parents awake. They'd decided around 2:00 am that they'd call Maya's pediatrician's office as soon as they opened to try and get Maya in to be seen. Kelly had a shift later that morning, but he'd already told Boden that Maya was sick and was certain his Chief would be OK with him being a little late to shift. When Maya was involved, he could get away with almost anything—the little girl had everyone wrapped around her tiny fingers.

They never made it to the pediatrician and Kelly didn't make it to work that day.

Maya's fever, after holding steady around 99-100 degrees for several hours, spiked just before 7 am leaving the infant lethargic and fussy. Her cough had worsened to a wheeze and one glance at the little girl's chest showed just how much of a struggle breathing was.

That was the last straw for the anxious parents, and they immediately threw their necessities into Maya's diaper bag and headed to the hospital, desperate to get Maya some help.

                                                   … … …

If anything good came from Kelly and Stella's frequent visits to Med (both as patients and first responders), it was the relationships they had with a lot of the doctors and nurses there. More specifically, and most importantly for what they're experiencing at this moment, their relationship with the doctors and nurses in the ED.

All it took was one quick phone call with April and, by the time Kelly, Stella, and Maya arrived at Gaffney, Natalie Manning and a treatment room were waiting for them.

                                                       … … …

It didn't take long for Natalie to figure out what was wrong with Maya—she had RSV. It was the diagnosis Stella had feared since she saw that first news report.

She and Kelly had tried SO hard to keep Maya safe from RSV and other germs and viruses her little body would struggle to fight off, especially this time of year. They had been careful, but apparently not careful enough because Maya was sick. They failed her.

Stella felt guilty. She berated herself for those few surprise firehouse trips she took Maya on. Yes, Maya loved seeing her daddy and Stella liked getting out of the house and visiting with the team, but Maya was still tiny and her immune system wasn't fully developed. It was stupid and selfish and put Maya at risk unnecessarily. Tears pricked at Stella's eyes as she thought about it. Stupid.

Kelly saw Stella getting emotional and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. He had an idea about how she was feeling because he was feeling it too.

He was the one going all over Chicago during rescues. He was the one in near constant close contact with victims, Academy recruits, and co-workers. Who knew what kind of germs he brought home with him every day? What all had he exposed Maya to? The pandemic had taught them all the importance of hand washing but how many times had he rushed through the process in his hurry to hold his baby girl after a long shift? Stupid.

"Her oxygen levels are lower than I'd like to see," Natalie announced, snapping the worried parents out of their guilty thoughts. "But she's not in the danger level yet. I'm going to admit her into the PICU and we'll get her on some oxygen and some IV meds."

Stella and Kelly nodded their consent. Even if Natalie's words confirmed their fears about how sick Maya was, the fact that she was getting the help she needed helped calm their nerves slightly.

Natalie got Maya situated on the infant bed then moved back and allowed the nurses to bring up the bars and start rolling Maya out of the room and transferring her upstairs. Stella and Kelly followed closely behind, Natalie walking with them.

"How has she been with feedings?"

"Not great," Stella sighed. "She was nursing just fine at first but when her cough started getting worse, she started struggling."

Natalie nodded. "We'll add some fluids to her IV as well. If she wants to nurse go ahead and let her but if it continues to still be a struggle we might have you pump and give her a bottle or, if it comes to it, a NG tube."

"A feeding tube?!"

"That's the worst-case scenario," Natalie soothed. "I don't see it getting to that point, because the supplemental oxygen is helping, but I want you to be aware of everything."

One look at Stella and Kelly's faces and Natalie continued. "I know this is all overwhelming and scary but Maya is doing really well."

Knowing Natalie was trying to reassure them, Kelly gave her a quick, small smile. His eyes never left Maya though.

The trip from the ED to the PICU didn't take long. They got Maya settled into her room where Dr. Michaels, one of the PICU Pediatricians, was waiting for them. He and Natalie worked together to get Maya on the monitors and comfortable.

Natalie got paged back down to the ED a few minutes later. She hurried out of the room with a promise to check in on them later, leaving the Severides alone with Dr. Michaels. They'd never met the man before, but Mrs. Goodwin ran a tight ship (Halstead antics excluded) and trusted the doctors she employed. If she trusted Dr. Michaels, they would too.

They stood on one side of Maya's bed while Dr. Michaels stood on the other, listening to her lungs and how they were responding to the oxygen. Maya laid pitifully on the bed, her tiny body looking incredibly small even in the infant bed. Her tired, fevered eyes followed the doctor's moves carefully.

Maya's favorite place to be when she was tired or not feeling well was in someone's arms so the fact the little girl just laid there was a true testament to how bad she felt.

When Dr. Michaels finished his check, he took a small step away from the bed and addressed Kelly and Stella. "So, I'm hearing some minor crackling in her lungs, which is typical with RSV. We have her on 3Ls of oxygen right now, but I would like to warn you that that number is likely to increase before it decreases as the virus works its way out of her system. It's not a guarantee, just a possibility. She's on IV fluids to keep her hydrated and her fever has already started to come down. She's pretty sick but, all things considered, she's doing pretty well."

Kelly and Stella nodded again, worry slowly starting to loosen its grip on them. Maya already had clenched one of Stella's fingers in her fist, so Kelly placed a hand on the top of Maya's head. The little girl immediately turned toward the hand, making her parents laugh. Despite how sick Maya was, she was still a complete daddy's girl.

"Can we hold her?" Kelly asked.

"Absolutely!" Dr. Michaels answered. "I know Natalie spoke with you about her feedings. If she wants to nurse I encourage you to let her but if it's still a struggle we can try giving her bottles or move on to different means if necessary."

Stella nodded. She looked at the doctor, down at her daughter, and back up to the doctor again. "Do you know how long she'll have to be here?"

"Unfortunately, RSV is one of those things where you can only treat the symptoms and not the virus as a whole—its something that just has to run its course." Dr. Michaels noted. "How soon Maya gets out of here all depends on how well her body responds."

It wasn't what Kelly and Stella wanted to hear. They hated unknowns. The investigator in Kelly always wanted to find answers but that just wasn't something he was able to do right now.

Dr. Michaels left shortly after with a promise to check in often, leaving the anxious parents alone with their daughter.

A nurse came in immediately after, showing them how to pick Maya up and hold her without messing up the monitors and cords attached to her. She handed Maya to Kelly, who immediately cradled the little girl against his chest. He frowned slightly at the heat still radiating from the infant.

Maya seemed unbothered by the fever and just snuggled impossibly closer to her daddy. It hadn't even been an hour since arriving at the hospital, but she was clearly feeling better, despite how warm she still felt. Thanks to the oxygen, Maya was breathing easier and the IV had given her a bit more energy.

Kelly placed a kiss on the top of Maya's head and gently started swaying back and forth.

With Maya safe and secure in Kelly's arms, Stella shot a quick text off to Brett and Boden filling them in on Maya's condition and letting Boden know he'd need to find a floater for Squad. She apologized to Boden for the late notice, even attaching a sweet but very sad picture of Kelly and Maya in the hospital room to the message to soften the blow, but the Chief just told her and Kelly to focus on Maya.

So that's what they did. That's what was most important at the time. Nothing else mattered other than being with Maya and getting her healthy.

[greengreyblue42]

The following contains descriptions of medical things, including things that are wildly inaccurate, and also swearing. And Death, obviously.

There was a horde of med students walking down the hall. They were being led by someone I knew well—a professor at the nearby university. I scanned their Patron Pins. It was a sea of stars, representing the god of healing. Scattered in the midst were a handful of fists for the god of hospitality, and one or two of the books for the god of knowledge. Nothing surprising. The professor—bearing the lectern pin for the god of charisma—smiled at me as she passed. The med students also gave me a smile, until one of them placed my patron pin. The skull didn’t represent a very common god, so many people forgot that He was a deity at all. At least until it was time for a funeral. I straightened my lab coat and kept walking, doing my best to ignore the expressions on the faces of the once friendly students. The fearful ones were fine; it was the hatred that I didn’t like seeing.

I rounded the corner and headed for my next patient. Thankfully I wasn’t in the ER today, just non-intensive observation. But this next patient was said to be a doozy of a man. No one was quite sure what was wrong with him, and it was my job to finally pin it down. I knocked on the door, waited a moment, then opened it.

‘Man’ might have been a bit strong of a term. He was wearing a Patron Pin (triangle, god of chaos), so he had to be older than 20, but his face was still soft and young. His hair was dyed red and in spikes, and he was wearing a gothy choker. I suspected that 1) it was a continuing fight with the nurses to be allowed to wear it, and 2) the rest of his outfit would match if he hadn’t been forced into a hospital gown.

“Hey, man,” the kid said. “Are you here to let me out?”

“Nope,” I responded, taking his chart and looking it over, holding it carefully between the kid and my pin. “I’m told there’s something wrong with you, and it’s my job to figure it out.”

Like I planned, the kid laughed. “There’s lots of stuff wrong with me, but you can’t fix any of it.”

“We’ll see,” I hummed. The kid’s boyfriend had checked him in and said he was complaining about blinding headaches before tripping and falling, where he had fainted for long enough for the ambulance to collect him. “I hear there’s something wrong with your head.”

“That’s what I’ve been told!” the kid exclaimed. I looked up. He looked proud at the accusation. I smiled inwardly, but made sure to keep my doctor face on.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” The chart noted that he refused to explain his symptoms. I set the chart back where it belonged. It had served it’s purpose.

The kid’s eyes went wide. I was confused for a moment before I realized that the chart had had another purpose. Fuck.

“Damn, dude!” the kid breathed. “Your patron is Livian?! The god of Death?! And you’re a doctor! That’s way metal, dude!”

“...Metal?” I asked cautiously.

“Yeah! I’m supposed to be rebellious, for god, and I don’t think I could ever match the sheer power of ignoring your god’s wishes.”

Aha. Well, it was better than I was expecting. I chose not to explain the Agreement, nor tell him about the kid down the hall who had actually broken her patron agreement. Instead, I smiled at him.

“What’s the point of life if you’re not living on the edge?”

“Exactly!” the kid shouted.

Later, the nurses asked me how I got him to consent to an MRI. I knew some of them thought I was threatening him.

--

I looked at the MRI results and realized why my god had sent the kid to me. Brain tumor, slowly pushing on the boy’s skull. Inoperable. The kid was going to die. I took a deep breath, then prayed to my god under my breath. Then I went to talk to the kid again.

“I’m going to die???” The kid wasn’t so gung-ho now. He looked scared, pale against his red spikes.

“I can’t say it isn’t a possibility.” I shifted my papers on my lap for something to do. No matter how many times I had this conversation, it never got easier. “But there is an experimental procedure. If you want—”

“I don’t want to die! I’ll sign whatever, just do it!”

I nodded in understanding. “Okay. I’m going to give you a packet of information. A lawyer and a doctor will come in in about an hour to help you read it and understand exactly what it says, then, if you still consent, you can sign it and I’ll get you set up.”

“I don’t need a lawyer to help me read!”

“It’s for informed consent stuff; I’m not allowed to operate without a lawyer signing off on you understanding it, since I’m the one who’s running the experiment. The hospital covers it; don’t worry.” The kid, still ashen-faced, nodded.

Two days later, I operated on the inoperable tumor. The procedure went off without a hitch. The kid was going to be fine. I left the clean room and took off my gear, piece by piece. Then I left the operating suite. There was a woman sitting outside. Seeing me, she burst into tears.

“Ma’am—” I started, but suddenly she was standing and in my face.

“What are you doing with my boy, you fucking necromancer?” she shouted, drawing eyes from around the hall.

“Ma’am, I’m the doctor who operated on your son—”

“Don’t lie to me! I see your pin! You fucking Death follower! My son is dead and you don’t have the empathy to tell me the truth!”

“No, the surgery was a success—”

“I bet it was with a gravedigger as the lead surgeon! You killed him! You killed my son!”

I didn’t have a response to that. With how many times it was said to me, you’d think I would by now, but I had nothing. Instead, I let my departmental supervisor, who had just come out of the operating room, take over the situation and fled the scene.

Six weeks later, when the kid was discharged, I passed by the doors as he was leaving. He gave me the widest grin I had seen from him yet. His boyfriend and mother, who were standing as far away from each other as possible, gave me the stink eye. I chose not to stop to talk.

--

I didn’t have the energy for both my research and my job. I needed the research, since it was my passion, and also what my god wanted me to do, and I needed my job because. You know. Eating. So yes, I did dabble in necromancy. But not the armies of zombies or the mind control thralls or whatever fear is the New Big Scapegoat. Just… just energy siphoning. And not from just anybody. Just the lost causes. And I don’t use that term lightly. That kid was a lost cause to most of the hospital. No, a lost cause is someone very specific. Sometimes—more often than you would think—my god would take a person to the afterlife, but their body wouldn’t die. Well, it would have died if we would have let it. But it was hooked up to machines to keep the heart beating and the lungs breathing and all of that, and there were relatives involved that didn’t want the machines turned off if there was even the remotest possibility of a miracle. And, since everyone had a Patron, and medicine was advancing each and every day, there was always a possibility of a miracle. But not even my god knew how to reattach a deceased person to their body, so if he had taken them, then there was never, ever, going to be a miracle. He would tell me which people were in that state, and I would borrow from their energy—at least what little of it was left, much like how when you pour soup out of a can there’s still liquid on the sides. It wasn’t very filling, but it got me through. First it was the brain surgery methodology, then reversing certain types of cancers, then some autoimmune diseases. I would throw myself into my research, trying my hardest to keep my patients alive. I averaged a major procedure breakthrough every two years, and less than an hour of sleep a month. And yet—

“I’m sorry, sir, I think you must be lost!”

I turned to see a young nurse, clearly fresh out of school. She smiled at me, bright and hopeful. I glanced at my outfit, cringing when I realized I hadn’t been home to change in eight days.

“Sorry?” I asked, not understanding.

“This is the patients’ wing of the hospital,” she said in a voice that was clearly meant to be helpful, but enlightened me to the situation about as much as a sleep mask in the catacombs of an old cathedral. “The mortuary is on the other side of the building.”

Oh.

And yet I was still trapped in the perceptions of my patron.

I had two options here. Option one was to spend the next hour trying to convince her that I was the single most decorated doctor in the history of mankind. Option two was the one I always picked.

“Oh, my bad. Thanks for letting me know.”

I ignored her cheery wave as I continued down the hall towards the staff room where I left my car keys eight days ago. I needed a shower something awful.

--

I don’t know why I agreed to be on a professional panel at the local university. I had work to do; I was so close to a breakthrough in helping with ALS. Even if I wasn’t working on that, there were patients at the hospital who needed my help. I closed my eyes, reminded myself that my colleagues were competent, and also that the next generation of doctors could use my guidance, and refocused on the discussion.

There, a hand in the sea of barely-legal faces. He thought there were even one or two without Patron Pins in the mix, but that wasn’t his business. The facilitator passed a mic back to the student.

“Do your Patrons help you with your patients?”

I winced, but no one seemed to share my distress. No, the woman on the other end of the table (a renowned geneticist, one whom I had worked with previously to help restabilize some highly painful and fatal genetic mutations) even grinned with pride.

“My Patron,” she began with a slightly bragging lilt to her tone, “is the god of Logic.” Aha, that’s why she was so happy. Logic was an uncommon god in the medical profession, due to her preference towards fields with less random variables. “She can highlight the patterns in genetic code for me, showing me the problems that these poor people face.” That trick had been quite handy, although my colleague had certain… issues with identifying which highlights were because of her god and which were because of her coffee spilling for the fortieth time. I also noticed that she failed to mention that her god made it difficult to identify which people were abnormal and wanted help, and which ones were abnormal and just fine with the situation, since all deviations from the pattern were technically illogical. But I guess the question was about helping, not hindering.

The next person down the line was also smiling. I didn’t know him, but based on his dress he was an experimental pharmacists. “My Patron—the god of Medicine—can tell me the names, uses, compositions, and side effects of every drug ever invented by mankind. With just a thought and his help, I can prescribe to anyone the best medication, with no error.”

I rolled my eyes.

The next few people were much the same; their gods helped them do their doctoring very, very well. And then it was my turn.

“My Patron is Livian, god of Death,” I announced, and I felt more than heard the room go quiet. I didn’t know where to go from there. Livian didn’t help me with my research, or my diagnoses. The energy assistance was super nice, but not something that these students (or my colleagues for that matter) would be comfortable hearing. The fact that I barely aged was nice about 70 years ago, but I was still mistaken for a grad student on occasion, and had gotten significantly more annoying. But I had to come up with something quickly, or it was about to get mighty awkward.

“He does favors for me when I save patients. Last week, I removed a tumor from a lung of a life-long smoker and he rearranged traffic so I could get home in half the time.”

There were mutterings at that. How could the god of Death rearrange traffic? Had I killed someone in a car accident by saving a man in surgery? The answer was much more mundane than that. My god was feared by all the other gods, and never asked for favors. So he was able to ask the traffic god to clear stuff up for me, and the traffic god complied immediately.

“Why does the god of DEATH want you to SAVE patients?”

I winced, and so did the facilitator. Once again, there were two options for how to respond. Option one, I go into detail about my exact relationship with Livian and why he liked me.

Whenever I got this question, I went with option two.

“The gods move in mysterious ways,” I answered. The facilitator, looking more panicked than ever, quickly grabbed the mic and asked for new, different questions. I debated fleeing the room in the sudden quiet.

--

I had practiced medicine for two hundred and fifty seven years, five months, ten days, three hours, and twenty six minutes (counted from receiving my first job offer) when it finally happened. Nobody had died of disease in about a hundred years. Nobody had died of an accident in decades. And now, nobody had to die of old age.

It was a simple thing, really. It didn’t quite reverse aging, but instead slowed it to a near crawl. It was a single procedure to implant into a single cell, which deleted the code for aging in all of its repetitions, thereby ending the process. It wouldn’t halt death completely—nothing ever would, really—but the number of people who would die a year across the whole globe would be in the single digits, if that. And since the gods of War had faded away due to lack of worship, and the gods of Natural Disasters were calmed by the technology of mankind, and the gods of Illness had been killed, and by my hand, there was nothing left to take a life.

I was done.

I held the confirmation papers in my hand, reading them over and over again. The procedure had worked in every person it had been done on. It had been done on everyone who consented to it over the age of thirty. There were a bunch of people who said no, of course, and there always would be, but the vast, vast majority had taken it.

I. Was. Done.

I felt someone staring over my shoulder and turned to see who it was. It was an old, old man, with bones pressing against tight skin covered in fields of thin wrinkles. Livian, god of Death, my Patron. I smiled.

“I’ve done it,” I whispered (my god did not like loud noises). He smiled.

“You’ve done it.”

We stared at the report for another few minutes.

“You know what this means, right?” I asked, looking up at him again.

In that moment I was reminded of my Patron ritual, done hundreds of years ago. They’re always a private thing, just for the twenty-year-old in question. A few candles, a few hours of praying, listing your accomplishments for the gods to hear and judge. Then the god who will watch over you summons a Patron Pin for you, and you wear it until you die. At least, that’s what I was told. I knelt in my circle and Livian appeared almost immediately.

“But I want to be a doctor!” I had shouted, stunned at the direction this was taking. I had wanted a God of Medicine.

“And a doctor you shall be, my son,” Livian had responded. “For you see, I have but one wish…”

Now, holding that paper in my hands, I met my Patron’s eyes and saw a fire there that I had never seen before.

“Now, my son,” said Livian, “Now I get to rest.”

“We get to rest,” I echoed, smiling.

And my Patron took me into the deep night, closing the door behind the both of us.

“So, your patron is the God of Death?” Yeah. “So, are you a necromancer? A great Warrior?” …Nah, I’m a Doctor.

[shortpplfedup]

O trespass sweetly urged! Bad Buddy Episode 5

GIFs by @liyazaki

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

*High-pitched screaming* In this episode, well...*gesticulates wildly at gifs above*

ROSALINE KNOWS WHAT'S UP

O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.

Ah Ink one of the 2 MVPs of the episode (the other is of course Paa), continuing the fine lesbian tradition of gently nudging the baby gays towards their lightbulb moments. She says so much without saying much at all. It's clear that she has a sense where Pat's heart really lies but she doesn't intend to push him on the matter. When he's ready to talk, she's ready to listen.

ROMEO FINALLY GETS A CLUE

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.

Between Paa's sage advice, Ink's gentle rejection and an assist from Korn(!), Pat eventually gets his brain to where his heart is, and finally realises that Pran's is right there next to it. Pat's oh moment is more like an oh couple of days, but by the time Wai decks him for behaving like a general jackass outside the dorm, he's more or less figured it out. And Pat being Pat, it's only a matter of a very small amount of time before he does something about it.

OUR STAR-CROSS'D LOVERS' STARS FINALLY ALIGN?

Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!

The rooftop scene was being hyped to the heavens so I had a little trepidation but man oh man did it deliver, and I don't just mean the kiss. All cards just get laid right on the table, and nobody is pretending to misunderstand what has happened, what is happening and what's going to happen next. Pran continues to screw his courage to the sticking place after having his heart broken for it last episode, and his bravery is just so awesome to see. To have him tell Pat outright you've got to stop doing this to me...we are not a thing basically admitting how he feels after having kept it inside for SO long, it's a MOMENT. And then Pat just pours out EVERYTHING he has repressed and stifled and pretended not to feel for years. And then that KISS...

...that kiss cleared my skin

...that kiss topped up my bank account

...that kiss might have inspired world peace

...that kiss ended the pandemic

...that kiss was perfect.

Pat's exhale of relief, Pran's desperate passion, the light and the lightness emanating from Pat afterwards and the pure wretched fear and dread from Pran...the rollercoaster ride has only just begun.

Commentary from the Chorus

Sign me up for the Ink/Paa girlfriends newsletter, I am a member of the executive committee and a supporter of the agenda.

Pat got far too loose-lipped with Wai and I wonder how that's going to play out.

I was right about the bet at least, even if I was wrong about everything else.

I didn't talk much about the fight scene outside the dorm because I think that's gonna be my scenepost this week.

Beach trip next week!

[wizkiddx]

Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3

thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are

warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )

^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots

/////////////////////////

“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.

“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.

“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”

You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.

You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.

He must really really be unhappy.

You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.

This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.

Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.

And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.

Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.

But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).

“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.

“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”

“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”

“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”

You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.

Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.

“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.

He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.

Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.

It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.

“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.

“Hello?”

“Harry it’s me”

“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.

“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”

“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.

“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”

“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.

“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”

“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”

“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”

“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.

Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”

Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“

“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“

“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.

With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“

“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”

“You live across the road.”

“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.

The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.

There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.

“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”

“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.

“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.

“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”

~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~

tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

[awheckery]

so. uh.

cut for frank discussion of chronic illness and the serious failures of the american healthcare system. tw for fatphobia and gaslighting.

Last July, I got sick. It wasn’t too bad at first: some fatigue, body aches and a slightly elevated temp, until suddenly it was bad and I wound up in the ER. It took three rounds of steroids, a round of antibiotics and a more powerful inhaler to get my feet back under me, but I never fully recovered.

I didn’t talk about it here, except for answering an ask in October and blaming my lack of creative output on depression. It really, really wasn’t depression; it was my health progressively collapsing, one system after another until the avalanche of symptoms that flattened me just after New Year’s.

For the last four months, I’ve spiked a fever over 100°F nearly every single day. My joints hurt. My knuckles are knobbly and swollen, and occasionally my fingers are so painful and weak I’ve had to literally tape my pen to my hand at work. I get rashes at random that itch so badly I claw myself bloody. I overheat and have hot flashes in temperate rooms. The skin on my face and neck and shoulders turns red and hot to the touch, like I’m burning for hours with no immediately discernible provocation.

Some days, I wake up and I don’t have the strength to get out of bed. Some days I can’t wake up at all. I’ve slept through deafening alarms for hours, long enough for my phone battery to run out and die. I can only stand up for ten minutes a day without being hobbled by the effort, and every extra minute beyond that I pay for in hours spent bedbound by exhaustion and pain.

I keep losing words. I’ll arrive at the middle of a sentence and stumble to a halt, because the word I need isn’t there. It’s not true aphasia, and it’s not all the time. I comprehend written and verbal communication perfectly well, but I can’t get my own thoughts out without tripping over them.

I am, to quote a friend attending school to be a nurse practitioner, “a textbook case for SLE,” and I agree, but somehow I can’t pay a doctor to treat me seriously.

In January, I was referred to a rheumatologist after the bloodwork my PCP ordered indicated I had autoimmune activity of some kind.

To date, that’s my only test for anything that’s come out definitively positive for any kind of disease state at all. Ever. I tested negative for celiac disease on a technicality nine years ago, despite how specifically and intensely sick gluten makes me, so I was dismayed but not too surprised when follow-up bloodwork for lupus came back just barely inside the range of “normal.” Despite that, I wasn’t prepared to be jerked around as much as I have been.

The first rheumatologist I saw, back at the end of January, had barely been in the exam room for thirty seconds when I could see he’d already made up his mind about me. He was dismissive and perfunctory and condescending when he told me that “plenty of perfectly healthy people have positive ANA results,” and he referred me back to my PCP for an exercise program and antidepressants to treat my “fibromyalgia.”

Putting aside that I’m not a “perfectly healthy person,” I’m a Fat Lady living in America, and I’ve experienced medical fatphobia for decades at this point. You learn the key words and phrases pretty quickly, and “exercise program” has never not been a euphemism for “weight loss.” (Which is heavily ironic in this particular situation, because before I was Fat, I walked 2-3 miles a day for funsies and spent 15-20 hours in the gym every week. I only stopped because I somehow shredded both my ACLs in one summer. I’d love to get back to that if a rheumatologist could help me figure out how to be active and uninjured at the same time.)

I was frustrated after that first appointment, enough to request a referral to one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Why not go to the best, right? There was a five month wait for an appointment, but I am stubborn, and I made use of the time by documenting every bullshit symptom my body threw at me. I have a daily symptom journal, full of subjective entries like my pain and fatigue levels, as well as objective entries like daily temperature changes and photos of my rashes and my burning face and my goddamn mouth ulcers.

I thought I had enough logged to be impossible to ignore, and then I saw the second rheumatologist three weeks ago, and the first sentence out of her mouth was the beginning of an interrogation on my blood pressure, and whether I was taking medication or if I was on a fucking exercise program for it. I tried to get the appointment back on track by sharing my symptom diary, and she turned back to my just-under-the-wire test results, and told me, “many healthy people have positive ANA results, it doesn’t mean anything without other positive test results for specific conditions.”

I said, “Healthy people don’t run a fever for months.”

And then she told me that a "fever is not associated with any of the conditions a rheumatologist treats." I was so startled by the confidence and authority with which she stated the lie that I was unable to speak to rouse a defense or contribute anything else for the rest of the appointment. After an insultingly brief examination, in which I never took my face mask off and she declined to look at any of my photos, she said that she “didn’t see anything that could be rheumatologically wrong with me.”

I asked her what she thought could be wrong with me, and she grudgingly admitted it’s possible, though rare to have an autoimmune disease and test negative for everything, so she would order more tests and refer me to appropriate specialists for my various symptoms. She ordered a referral to an infectious disease specialist for my fevers, and a referral to a dermatologist for my “rosacea” (that she’s assuming I have, because I would like to again note she did not see it, at no point did she actually look at my face or a photo of it), and a referral to an ENT for a salivary gland biopsy for my dry mouth, and a referral to a neurologist for my “stroke-like” memory and speech problems.

It was, all told, an unbearably shitty appointment. I cried in my car for an hour in the hospital parking garage so I wouldn’t do anything impulsive like lying down in traffic, and then I went home, cried some more, and went to bed for three days.

On the fourth day, I woke up enraged. It’s one thing to be blown off by a doctor when you’re just reporting symptoms without proof, it’s a wholly different thing for a doctor to ignore your proof and lie about diagnostic criteria to your face.

It’s hard enough not to think you’re crazy when your test results come back negative over and over; it’s that much harder after being told that your major concrete measurable symptom is diagnostically irrelevant, when it really, really isn’t.

(for the record, just going off the symptoms I can concretely prove I’ve experienced in the last week alone, I land a 16 on this chart, which is the most up-to-date, widely agreed-upon diagnostic criteria)

I have decided, for the moment, to play ball. I don’t have the energy to jump through all the hoops this rheumatologist wants, but I'm angry enough to drag myself through them. Tomorrow I’m supposed to see the infectious diseases specialist. On Wednesday I see the dermatologist. In two weeks I see the ENT, and I’ve got a neurology appointment tentatively scheduled for December.

I’m going to be blisteringly forthright with all of these doctors about why I’m there, and that I’m looking to exclude diagnoses other than the lupus I pretty obviously have. (Except with the ENT. Apparently they treat allergies, and I’d like to be able to go outside long enough to walk a dog, someday.)

I’m supposed to see this rheumatologist again at the end of November. Depending on how this week’s appointments go, I’m aiming to either move up my appointment with her when one becomes available, or just send a firm yet diplomatic email asking why the diagnostic criteria apply to everyone but me.

If anybody else has gotten through this fucking nightmare successfully, I’m open to suggestions, it’s not like it can get worse at this point.

[drawlfoy]

Mirror, Mirror Finale P.2

masterlist  request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw reader

request: yes very highly requested lol

summary: despite never speaking before, y/n has a big crush on draco malfoy, a particularly broody and obnoxious slytherin. what will happen when they finally have to start associating? and what if they run into a certain mirror that shows you what you truly desire?

warnings: cursing!

a/n: so ik i said this was gonna be out later this week but i love you guys too much! here it is...the final part of mirror, mirror! it’s weird to finally finish a series like this but ohhhh boy here we are

taglist: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99 @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop

word count: 2.1k

“About time you got off your arse.”

“Hello to you too, Rena,” Y/N sighed as she dropped her satchel on her bed. Her roommate watched, bemused, as she began to unpack her things. 

“How are you?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer. “I really missed you. We were all worried sick, you know.”

Y/N snorted, tossing her wrinkled robes on the bed and making a mental note to spell them neat later. “I do know. Madame Pomfrey was going to kill me for how many times she had to tell you to leave me and let me rest.” 

Rena’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Y/N. “I missed you too.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as the cold afternoon breeze wafted into their room, carrying the smell of fresh snow in. 

“So, anything exciting happen? Did anyone tell you anything….interesting?”

“No.” Y/N was about to turn back to her work before she caught the mischievous expression on Rena’s face. “What? Why?”

“Nothing,” she sang. “I’m just wondering. I have to catch up with my best friend, you know. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been the whole of four days.”

“It’s been forever,” she restated, jumping up and spinning Y/N around (who couldn’t help but allow a slow grin to spread across her face). 

“I was going crazy in there.” Y/N’s voice was considerably more serious. “I never told you, but--” she chose to ignore the look of anticipation written all over Rena’s face, “--Malfoy talked to me. And he was so nice to me, it was we--”

“That COWARD!” 

The outburst started Y/N, who dropped her things on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry? Rena, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Rena, her tone dutiful and mournful. “It’s not my place. Anyways, what did that loser do?”

“Er,” began Y/N, “I don’t know how much of it was real or if it was because I was on pain potion, but he and I--I don’t know, flirted? There was a lot of banter, and before he knew it he pulled me off the ground--”

“You were on the ground?”

“--he pulled me off the ground and picked the gravel out of my palms.” Y/N swallowed as she recounted the instance. She’d never seen him look so soft before. “He said he had something he wanted to tell me, and his voice got all strange.”

“And then?” 

“And then Madame Pomfrey came to yell at me and basically--oh god, Rena, she basically told him that I dreamt of him!”

Rena snorted with laughter. “Shit, dude. I don’t think you should worry, though. You’d think any bloke with half a brain would’ve figured out that you were obsessed with him by now.”

“Shut up.” Y/N’s face was hot. “Anyways, I haven’t seen him since. I’d prefer if we could stop talking about this.”

“Sure, sure.” She took in a breath. “Wait, what about rounds? Don’t you still have to see him?”

“No. Flitwick told me I’m off. At least until next month.” If she sped through the thought, it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ending of a chapter, huh? How are you feeling about that?”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Rena, I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? It’s over.”

If her words carried any deeper meaning to Rena, she didn’t show it. “Lighten up, girly. Maybe it’s not.”

“All I’ve done is make a fool of myself,” lamented Y/N, throwing her empty satchel in the closet and collapsing onto her bed. “I’m just going to go back to what everything was before. This hasn’t changed anything. Now, Rena, I have a Potions exam to study for.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

~

Her interactions with Draco were few and far between in the following weeks. Sometimes she caught a few glimpses of a pale blonde head of hair as she walked down the halls to her classes, but nothing concrete, nothing even close to the amount of interaction they had while she was still bound to her rounds. 

It was certainly a punch in the gut--after all, she did spend a good portion of her academic career thirsting over him--but the sensible part of her knew that this was for the better. Her schoolwork became her top priority again, just like it had been the years before she was assigned to be his partner.

So, given this pattern of communication, it was fair to say that Y/N was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she saw Draco waiting by the entry of her common room at 11pm one night.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she shifted the books in her satchel to be secured over her shoulder.

“Yes, actually,” he said smoothly, not tripping over his words in the slightest. “I have rounds tonight.”

“I’m aware.” She hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding the way that it was.

“And I’m out of Wide-eye potion.” 

“That really sucks,” Y/N said as she held up her hand on the door of the common room, uttering the riddle’s answer under her breath before she stepped in. 

“Wait!” His voice turned her around--it was pleading, almost desperate. “I have an exam tomorrow. No one in Slytherin has any. Snape would kick my arse for waking him up now. I know you have some left over since you never finished the rounds, and I--I understand if you don’t want to but it doesn’t have a very good shelf life anyways and I was hoping you’d...that you’d be alright with giving it to me.”

She paused, completely stunned. The most hopeful part of her wondered if he had made this up, but she squelched this with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Fine. Come with me, you must be freezing outside.” 

Y/N wasn’t wrong--the weather had taken a turn in the past few days to be bitterly cold--but it wasn’t like she’d object seeing him for any longer. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak-willed.

Draco looked pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and stepped into the common room with her, following her up until she reached the base of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re comfortable,” she began, “I’d honestly prefer if you came with me. I don’t want to explain to anyone why I let you into our common room unsupervised.”

He looked like his mind was buffering the information for a second, standing with a glazed look in his eyes before he sucked in a breath and became the picture of confidence once again. “Want me in your room that bad?”

Yes.

“You wish.”

He scoffed as they climbed the stairs, Y/N a few steps above him. She thought that if she maintained the space he wouldn’t see how hard she was shaking and wondered where Rena was. Studying with Hermione like she told her she was? She hoped.

Y/N stopped in front of her door at the very end of the hall, decorated with a banner that had their names displayed in glittering bronze letters that moved in the light. “Ok. You can come in with me if you want--it might be a couple minutes since I don’t quite remember where it is.”

He looked amused with himself as she got out her wand and attempted to unlock her door with the specialized charm she and Rena had decided upon. Mortifyingly enough, her hand was too shaky to execute it.

“Hey, hey,” Draco tutted, holding his hand out. It enveloped hers and held her wand still as she muttered the incantation, unlocking the door and swinging it open. 

“Er...thanks,” she said. His hand was still over hers. 

Y/N broke the eye contact to dart through the door to a thankfully dark and empty room--if Rena had seen that, she never would’ve let her hear the end of that--and began rifling through her drawers as Draco shut the door and examined her room.

“You’re flustered,” he noted as she tipped over one of her candlesticks and just barely managed to catch it. “Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise, little Ravenclaw?”

“Like you care.” Y/N shut the desk drawer with an audible BANG. “And don’t call me that. Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling in her grave hearing you infantilize her good name like that.”

Draco laughed from his stance by her door--a sound that she hated to admit that she really missed. “I take back what I said. You certainly sound like yourself.”

Y/N’s fingers finally closed around the last bottle of Wide-Eye, which was quickly tossed to Draco. “Happy now?”

He sent her a strangely weak smile as he slipped the vial into his pocket, no doubt silk lined and expensive. “Sure. So this is goodbye? Actually?”

“I think...I think so.” 

Y/N had moved closer to him so only about a foot stood between them, a distance that felt like a mile from where she stood. 

This is goodbye.

Draco was making a motion to turn around and open the door when Y/N experienced the most severe lapse of judgement in the entirety of her 17 years.

She sprung forward, her fingers curling around the satiny soft fabric of his tie and pulling. Her motion was rough enough that he jolted forward, his eyes wide with surprise as Y/N closed in and pressed her lips to his in a very chaste and ungraceful movement. 

The split second that it took for her to realize the consequences of her actions was enough for her to let go completely and jump away, apologies readily falling out of her mouth in disjointed and clumsy collections. 

“I’m so sorry...Oh my god...I have no idea what got into me...Draco, I--”

Before she could finish, his hands were already cupping her face, his frame bent down the slightest so he could be more level with her. And he was--oh--he was kissing her, actually properly this time, without the tense closed-offness of her first attempt.

When Y/N imagined what it was like to kiss Draco Malfoy, she didn’t imagine him to be so soft. Or warm. Or gentle, or pliant, or whatever other good things he was to her as he snaked her arms around her and held her tight to him.

His kisses turned feverish, almost desperate as he turned her so she was pressed up between him and the wall. Everywhere his hands touched felt charged with electricity and energy, and as his hands traveled up and down her spine she decided that this must be what it’s like to die of happiness. 

“Draco,” she managed in between kisses, pulling away for air for just a moment and sliding back down so her feet touched the floor again. “Can we talk? About this?”

“Thanks,” he responded, his eyes glittering with endearment. “I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw.”

“Shut up.” 

He grinned but made no effort to step away from her, instead choosing to drag his fingers up and down the side of her exposed neck. “What’s there to talk about? I like you, you like me, there’s nothing we need to do to complicate this further.”

“You...you what?”

“Yes, genius, what else did you think I was planning on telling you that day in the courtyard,” Draco said. “I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were over me. That was horribly embarrassing, you know. Had to nurse my ego for weeks before I could garner up the courage to speak to you again.” He stopped to gently press the pad of his thumb into the little dimple she had in her left cheek, smiling uncontrollably as he moved his hand back to cup her face.

“How was I supposed to know that?” argued Y/N. 

“Isn’t this supposed to be the smart house?” he teased. 

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make me decide I don’t like you anymore.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me?”

“I’m going to scream.”

“Just from kissing me? Wow, I must be good.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I!”

Y/N gazed up at the boy in front of her for a few beats, admiring how the moonlight bounced off the silvery strands of his hair and how his smile reached every corner of his face. 

“I take back what I said,” she told him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

He smiled again, leaning in close so his lips barely brushed her ear. “No. No, it isn’t.”

[mlbpotter]

Sole Crusher and why I hated it.

Ahh, one of the most prodigious episode for Zoe-fans.

You see, we see Zoe in a car touring Paris as she came from New York. She entered a bakery to get something for her family (A.K.A Audrey) Marinette entered, and slipped on the floor, but Zoe being who she is, clever perfectionist, nimble, quick blah blah blah, whatever the directors want to show us, caught Marinette in a blink of an eye.

In irl, I think if somebody did slip, in front of me, I’d be too shocked to react in seconds. I’d be gaping, mouth open, too shocked to catch anyone.

Ahh, well, Marinette then talked to her a little, learnt how she only had one friend, made some of us feel pity for her (eh, Thomas). So, NOW THE NEXT PART REALLY GETS ME! Marinette didn’t know who this unknown Zoe girl was (could be a thief, murderer, kidnapper idk) yet she gave away her phone number, free pastries, and invited her to HER FRIEND’S CONCERT! OMG you dumass, you don’t just give away these things to unknown people!

Well, still, moving on, zoe went back to the car, and to the bourgeois hotel. She gave away the pastries to the driver saying her family preferred sour from sweet, meaning they were not exactly caring. Just showing what a bad mother Audrey is, Zoe, like Chloe tried to act all snobbish and mean to get her mother’s attention.

To keep it short, Zoe met Chloe and they had a very meaningful conversation. But the thing that bugged me the most was that what Chloe said. 'Your father exists only to do whatever you want, whenever you want.'

Huh? Forgot this, in origins pt.2? This shows that chloe actually loves her father.

Also, Chloe was shown locking Sabrina in a locker, and forcing her to do her homework.

......

So how do u explain this?☝️

Chloe cares about Sabrina. Thomas really ruined Chloe's character her smh, in sole crusher.

Anyways, Chloe took Zoe to the school in a limousine, with Sabrina running behind them!

BrUh, thomas? R u serious? This is a kids show, no? You are supposed to show how to be considerate, not treating ur friend as slaves!

After some more uneccessary chloe-being-cruel moment, Chloe introduces everyone to Zoe.

She says, that Zoe needs a guy to pamper, who is preferably rich....wow, Thomas you already destroyed Adrien's friendship with Chloe, what more do u want?

When Zoe pretended to hate Marinette's macaroons, Sabrina started idiolizing her immediately. SABRINA ALSO NEEDS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!!

Obviously, Chloe 'tried' to teach Zoe some mean habits, and Marinette was confused about the way she acted so differently at school.

Being Marinette, she texted Zoe about the the confusion, and obviously blamed Chloe. When Chloe found out that her sister was texting her arch-enemy Marinette, she became furious.

Zoe lied and said that she was planning to humiliate Marinette. One of the worst things about Zoe is that she tries to change her nature just to meet up the needs for others. Chloe only does that to impress her mother.

Zoe went up the blacony, and was met by Andre, Chloe's father, who tried to console her, by telling her his own dream. Ok, listen up, how come Andre is only nice to his step-daughter, in a fatherly way??? And treats Chloe like a spoilt queen?? What kind of a father u r, even though u know that's wrong? Ugh

Anyways, the part where Andre wanted to be a film director was pretty cool. Again, we get some background history about the character. And yes, he listened to Audrey, about being rich, not a film director, blah blah blah, showing again how bad of a wife Audrey is.

Then, we discovered that Zoe wanted to be an actress for no good reason, and yest, admittedly she is pretty good a hiding her emotions and 'acting'.

This is how Andre tried to cheer up Zoe, but obviously made the situation worse, as she only thought about the way Chloe, treated her, and not her mother. So yeah, She only has a grudge against Chloe, again showing how horrible and cruel Chloe could be, right?

Just because Chloe said, 'You either step on other people, or I step on you!' This is so out-of-character for, Chloe. She would never say that, I reckon this much.

And there we go, Zoe reluctantly wears the diamond shoes, and becomes akumatized by shadow moth.

So, her power was touching other people with her shoes, and she became bigger.

Sole crusher, found Chloe in her room taking selfies of herself, to shoe how vain she was and how much she admired herself. Ummm..when did Chloe have an obsession with taking her photos? Except maybe in the episode where Marc was akumatized.

Chloe caught a glimpse of Sole Crusher, on her mobile's photo.

She said, 'How come you are using my image without my authorization?' Old Chloe loved to be idolized, so out-of-character.

So, when Chole discovered that it was Zoe, she began running like she was in a marathon, which was again out of character, as she wouldn't run, it'd be too much of work for her.

I think the running was just to show how bad of a character Chloe was, as she pushed Marinette's parents and Marinette herself towards Zoe, to show how cruel, evil and selfish she really is.

Another thing, I think that the kwamis shouldn't be allowed outside the box very long, as someone might catch them, like Chloe almost did.

So, the reason Sole crusher didn't step on Marinette, was because Marinette is the main character of the show, and she just can't be in a dangerous situation (Thomas logic). It'd made a great plot if Marinette was crushed by sole crusher. It would keep the viewers on their toes.

Eh, well, To make look Chloe worse, they made her run further, and order Zoe to literally step on the 'losers'. AKA rest of Marinette's classmates. (Do students really meet each other like this irl?)

So Marinette discovered that Zoe was Sole crusher, and gave some advice.

Marinette: That's not true, you don't need to crush on anyone. The 'winner' and 'loser' thing doesn't exist. It's just people, each one with your differences and unique features. (after Chat Noir interrupted) Zoe, no one will judge you here. You can be yourself! You can trip, you can fall, there's always going to be someone to help you stand up. I will always support you!

Shadow moth manipulated Zoe again, So Chat Noir tripped sole crusher giving Marinette the chance to run away and transform in a place that no one can see (totally). Since Tikki followed Marinette, and Kaalki alerted Adrien about the akuma, they both were able to transform.

Since I am no good at writing battle scenes, I'll tell the main points. Ladybug used her lucky charm, and got a shoe horn. So basically, Chat Noir and ladybug both destroyed the heels of Zoe's shoes, but the akuma didn't come out. Chloe insulted sole crusher, and got crushed.

Chloe : Look at how you're treating ur very expensive shoes! Go back to wearing you hideous and plain sneakers.

So ladybug figured out that the Akuma must be in those sneakers Chloe mentioned.

So the team tried to find out those sneakers in Chloe's house. Ladybug saw Sabrina in the closet, yet asked her about the sneakers, and ignored her. Wow, shoe some empathy ladybug, or even Chat Noir!

They saw Andre, and he told them where the Akuma went. So basically Andre showed them the box, and was so scared of Audrey, that her had hid those directories a secret from her. Since that box was not opening, ladybug used her shoehorn to open that box thingy. Long story short, ladybug repaired everything, and gave Zoe the lucky charm, and left.

Skip to the noon, where Zoe went to the concert she was invited in, and Chloe still believed Zoe's lame story about humiliating Marinette, and was super pissed off when Zoe ate the macaroons.

So yeah, Zoe apologized about her akumatizatidon, and told her 'tragic' backstory. She didn't want to disappoint her family's expectation, so she pretended to be mean.

In her boarding school, she was being bullied, and pretended to be someone she was not.

And since er...the miraculous fandom characters are so 'different' and tried to be nice to her, which was pretty cool of them....

Chloe demanded that Zoe leave for New York, but Andre was pretty cool about it, and made a lame yet nice excuse for her, to be enrolled in anther boarding school. So she had a different room. Obviously, the creators showed how err..awesome Zoe is as she said to Andre, 'Promise me that you are not going to give up on your dreams for too long.' But Andre's dream was very irrelevant, as nothing of that sort was mentioned after that.

Zoe's new found friends helped her become a better person, and there were some ending pics of her.

Zoe's message to Marinette was pretty cheesy ngl. But if only Zoe was introduced as a character who didn't out smart her sister, I would honestly love her so much!

(If my dumb shit post doesn't get famous, I will quit. I literally worked so hard for this post, and also had to rewrite it multiple times)

[starillion]

part 1 of this two part series im working on. do i know this scene is way overused? yes. am i still posting it? uh huh.

word count : a pitiful 974

characters : findekáno / fingon. implied maitimo / maedhros

part 2

The cruel winds swiveled around his body, seeping inside his clothes, swishing aside his long braided hair, tickling his bare neck. Findekáno shivered. He stood alone, shoes worn and hands blistered from the hours climbing the slopes of Thangorodrim. The peak was nigh. What would happen if he reached it? Findekáno took a step. Dirt and pebble crushed under his weight, some falling off the dangerously steep sides of the mountain. That would be him, taking a wrong turn. He took another step, another, and another. A whole night must have passed while he climbed - the newborn sun shimmered from the horizon. Its radiance shone despite the cloak of darkness Morgoth had enveloped his fortress in. The Valar haven't forsaken me yet, or so he hoped. He leaned on a stone beside him, taking a rest deprived for hours. Still above him, was a peak steeper and far less even than the landscapes below he had come through. Could he climb that? Findekáno wondered. And for what? A plan he thought only days ago to be wise brought him here, high atop Thangorodrim, with no way to turn back.

For Maitimo, he reminded himself. For Maitimo, Maitimo. If he was this desolate here, he couldn't imagine what his boyfriend must have endured. For years. That thought kept him going. The guilt. Guilt that he was acting tired after only a few hours of climbing; guilt that he waited too long to go seek his friend; guilt that he let Maitimo think that he had given up. And guilt that, now Findekáno may never find him alive again.

Below he searched the land, deserted when its foul inhabitants cowered underground in fear of the sun. No traces could he find. No hints of the entrances to secret lairs, no living creatures, and nothing that could tell where among the vastness could Maitimo be.

Findekáno let out a cry. A curse, towards Morgoth who brought evil to all his kin, foul beasts that slay, demonish balrogs and illfavoured orcs. "MAITIMO!" he screamed out loud. His own voice echoed as a response. Maitimo....aitimo.......tim......mo........o He stood there until the last of the echoes died out. Did he hear something else - his boyfriend calling back his name? Or was that just the winds blowing in his ear incessantly?

He imagined Maitimo, somewhere out there. FInno.. "Nelyo, I'm here!" he cried out again. "It.. It's Finno!" Echoes laughed at him, desperate. No... no.....no......o Findekáno cared not. "Nelyo, I know you're here.. I'm gonna find you. You know I will!" he said out loud, as if they were playing hide and seek centuries ago back in Valinor.

I'll give you 10 seconds to hide... a tear rolled down his cheek.

Ready or not here I come! He took a step forward.. and tripped.

He was tumbling down the stony slopes of the mountain until the edge of his cloak got hung in a crooked rock. His arms were bloody with gashes. Ouch. He poised himself to the nearest foothold and calmed his breath. He must have fallen at least an half-hour long climb. He would have wept if not his glands were frozen shut from the shock. "O Eru... Why?" he whispered. The sun no longer looked as blessed when it shone upon him, blinding his eyes.

But turning his head away, he spotted - about a metre or so over his head - a harp. He had forgotten that he brought this earlier. Nonetheless he reached his arm up, and grabbing it, he slung the instrument over his back. The harp, one of the few possessions he brought from the West, one he never dared to cast aside even despite the perils of the Helcaraxë.

'kano's always been the better singer, but... i wrote this for you and figured i should perform.'

Findekáno's hand jerked upwards.

maitimo was blushing. something he rarely ever did.

The mountain felt more like a cliff, but he found the old route he made, and climbed, teeth gritted.

slender fingers stroke the harp, perfectly tuned. 'that's kano's work though.'

With every heave he cried out Maitimo's name.

findekáno laughed. 'let's hear it then.'

He reached the point where the ground was flat enough to stand on. Was it midday yet?

maitimo cleared his throat, tucking a strand of red hair behind his ear.

He reached to his back and brought out a harp. Despite his fall, it was still well tuned, except for some strings decayed from years of unuse. Findekáno had never played it since Maitimo's capture.

as laurelin fades and ere telperion blossoms, the stars of varda are brightest still

"As Laurelin fades and ere Telperion blossoms... the stars of Varda are brightest still," from age-old memories he called back the tunes. His scarred and blistered fingers left hints of red in the strings.

when twilight comes in valinor, all that was ever made like jewels of the noldor

"When twilight comes in Valinor, all that was ever made like jewels of the Noldor," his voice crackled on the higher notes, but he kept singing.

"Where fly the gulls and eagles of Manwë

in Valinor where is blessed with light,

have you gone hunting with Menelmacar?

where music fills our hearts with glee,

are you with Oromë whose horn I hear from Tirion the fair?"

At this, his fingers halted. The songs is to be sung by two, and Maitimo had handed Findekáno a parchment with lyrics to sing the rest for him. Remembering that day, his voice became lost, and with the music gone, the fierce winds claimed dominance again.

But then, from above him, faintly came a sound that he first thought to be just the rustlings of the wind.

"n... ith.....ou i........shall.................unto.. e......d."

Findekáno's heart drops. There is no mistaking that voice.

[incorrectstarcoquotes]

Incorrect Recap - S2

Alright @seddm​, Round 2 it is! My first round and his first round. Let’s get it on!

My New Wand - Star learns wandless magic in order to prevent starco from being canon early because why would we want that? It’s just the only thing everyone wants.

Ludo In The Wild - A nature documentary is the best way to show what Ludo has been up to.

Mr. Candle Cares - Tom does something wrong again and everyone still spends four years trying to convince me that he didn’t, and even if he did, it’s okay.

Red Belt - A Marco-centric story is the best way to catch up on some character development. Also, the Diaz’s are afraid of the store?

Star On Wheels - A car chase through a southern California freeway is the best way to show Star and Marco’s trust deepening.

Fetch - A dog from another dimension tries to fry its own brain to catch a break. I’m sorry, what?

Star Vs Echo Creek - Star runs away from accepting responsibility from a crime she committed and Marco spends all day and all night trying to look for her (but we don’t see that part).

Wand To Wand - Wand to wand, man to man, hand to hand. Both Star and Ludo learn to use their half of the wand.

Starstruck - Star learns the same lesson we all do, never meet your heroes.

Camping Trip - River travels dimensions through sheer force of will to be a third wheel to Star and Marco’s camping trip.

Starsitting - Babysitting is the best way to show how Star and Marco’s dynamic would be married with children.

On The Job - Buff Frog does as any good single dad would do and goes out to try to bring home the bacon...er, corn.

Goblin Dogs - The show beats down the Marco money joke until we’re introduced to a character I slowly start to hate.

By The Book - Glossaryck uses his omniscience to fuck with Star, and we learn that Ludo does know Marco’s name.

Game of Flags - Star makes her own team of two with Marco at a family reunion as they a play a game that everyone is a little too into. It’s like playing football at Thanksgiving in Texas. Even the people who don’t like football are suddenly experts.

Girls’ Day Out - Star and Janna totally become friends as Marco gets a reminder of that Jackie body. I mean, DAMN.

Sleepover - A magic box voiced by Goku forces the characters to develop.

Gift of the Card - Star and Marco act more like a canon couple than most canon couples and my favorite character name is introduced.

Friendenemies - Tom and Marco actually bond over boy bands and karate movies. I’d actually buy into this if Tom fans hadn’t been talking shit to me this whole time.

Is Mystery - Buff Frog goes up the ranks of everyone’s favorite character list by furthering the main plot.

Hungry Larry - An interdimensional terror is the best way to teach Rafael that adult fear is legitimate fear.

Spider with a Top Hat - My eight year old niece turns to me and asks, “Are we still watching Star vs?” because neither one of use could believe the crap we were looking at.

Into the Wand - We learn that Toffee is corrupting the wand and the magic but Star doesn’t figure it out until much later.

Pizza Thing - Pony Head makes everything worse for Marco because she’s Pony Head. It’s kind of her thing.

Page Turner - Star proves that she’s a Gen Z-er by believing that ancient dark voodoo whatever isn’t a big deal.

Naysaya - Tom does something wrong again and again everyone tries to tell me that he didn’t, and even if he did, it’s okay.

Bonbon The Birthday Clown - Star vs pulls a hard Toradora by having Star realize that more Jarco time does mean less Starco time. Ludo steals the book and changes the game for the characters and the plot.

Raid the Cave - Star and Marco pull a Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Star’s parents do what all leaders do and try to downplay the severity of the crisis.

Trickstar - "Weird” Al Yankovic sucks the joy out of people which is the opposite of what he does IRL.

Baby - A cute little cat thing gives Star a reality check.

Running with Scissors - A crazy episode about Marco getting his own dimensional scissors has so many terrible ramifications through the fandom. Like my God I fucking hate all you dumb motherfuckers “He’s 30. He’s 30.” THINK FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS YOU PIECES OF SHIT. DID NO ONE THINK WHILE MAKING OR WATCHING THIS EPISODE? AARKDAKL;SDF

I’m sorry. I lost my head for a while there.

Mathmagic - Star almost destroys the multiverse because she’s not good at math.

The Bounce Lounge - Star tries to save her favorite hangout and...that’s really it.

Crystal Clear - There are few things worse than watching a dumbass try to be smart, as Star learns.

The Hard Way - Ludo learns a spell. One spell. Singular. Toffee shows himself again.

Heinous - Marco’s parents will believe anything.

All Belts Are Off - Marco tries to get the approval of someone who really isn’t worth it, and turns out, Star really is a bug.

Collateral Damage - Star learns how crazy the people of Echo Creek actually are and Marco becomes an odd number because he literally can’t even in this episode.

Just Friends - The show pulls a Toradora for the second time but far worse.

Face the Music - Patrick Stump figures out what took everyone else two seasons to learn that STAR BUTTERFLY IS IN LOVE WITH HER BEST FRIEND...and his name is Marco Diaz. Star’s parents face political blowback because they’re just the worst.

Starcrushed - All of my worst hopes and fears come true until that last minute.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

“I think you might be pregnant.”

Minor cussing and some drinking in here along with hospital, IV, and blood. This is a continuation of this fic but you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on in this. 

January 21, 2020 8:00am 

All was quiet in the ER that morning. Or as quiet as it could be with two gunshot victims and several heart attack patients. It had been crazy since he punched in at 5:00am for his 12 hour shift. 

He threw himself into a chair and surveyed the waiting room. He was waiting for something to happen but for the moment it was temporarily calm. 

He was lost in his thoughts, thinking of the dinner that Racer had promised him, when a chart was thrown on the desk with a bang. Looking up, he saw Plums standing there with an unsettling look on her face. “You alright, Plums?” 

“Just felt off for a moment.” She pushed a smile to her face, sitting in a chair. “Hey, good job with that gunshot victim earlier. Not sure how but you got him calmed down.”

Spot grinned, thinking back to the first 30 minutes of his shift. “Got him talking about his daughter. Works like a charm.” 

“Well I appreciate it.” Kat grinned, looking at the clock before turning to her chart. 

Spot watched her. “Something’s off with you Plums. Are you doing alright?” 

“I’m fine; don’t worry about me. Jack’s got all these ideas for projects this weekend and I’m a little nervous to be honest. But I’m fine.” She waved him off, as he raised an eyebrow. 

“And is there a reason you’ve been in the bathroom like 6 times already this morning?” Spot picked up a pen and his own chart. “Is there something you wanna tell me?” 

Her eyes went wide as her hands went to her ponytail to tighten it before giving him a look. “I didn’t know you’ve added stalker to your resume.” 

“For being a doctor you’re kinda thick headed, Plums.” Spot smirked. 

She turned, giving him a confused look. “Pray tell, head nurse Spottie, tell me what I’m missing.” 

Leaning in close to her, he grinned before whispering. “I think you might be pregnant.”

She pushed back in her chair, eyes wide. “There’s no way.” 

“Come on. There’s a way. You and Jack - trust me I know more than any brother-in-law ever wants to know.” Spot gave her a look. “You’ve got all the signs - frequent trips to the bathroom, sleepiness, fatigue, need I go on?”

Kat shook her head. “I’m not pregnant, Spot. Just drop it.” 

“Just take a test. If I’m wrong, we drop it. If I’m right, we’ll celebrate.” Spot kissed her cheek. “Why are you so worked up denying this?”

She sighed, flipping the chart closed. “Just drop it. I’m off the clock. I’ll see you this weekend, love you.” 

“Love you too Kat.” He gave her a look, watching her head to the locker rooms to grab her stuff. “I’ll see you this weekend.” 

The day passed, with more runny noses and coughs that he wanted to see but it was quiet, thankfully. No major crises or issues walked through the doors. Looking at the clock he saw that it was just past noon. He was planning on escaping to the cafeteria to grab something to eat when the bay doors were thrown open and a gurney was wheeled in. 

“What do we have boys?” He caught up with them, accepting the chart they had started before looking at the patient, eyes going wide. “Kat?”

“26 year old female; husband found her fainted and lethargic. Her husband called saying she had fainted several times, hitting her head the final time.” Spot looked at the gauze on her forehead before looking over at a worried Jack. He gave him a tight smile before looking at the paramedics. 

“Let’s get her over to bed 2.” He said, pointing in the general direction.  

Stopping at the desk, he gave Isabel, another nurse, a look. “Page Dr Rush and Albert. Plums is in bed 2.”

Walking over to the bed, he was met by a few nurses and an orderly. They transferred her to the bed, letting the paramedics leave. Spot looked at Jack. “Jack, talk to me. What happened?” 

Jack kept an eye on the nurse as she started an IV, getting Kat hooked up to all of the monitors. Putting a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, Spot looked at him. “She’s going to be okay. Now I need you to tell me what happened.”

“One minute she’s telling me what a pain in the ass you are at work today. And the next she’s falling to the ground. She was so still, Spot. She didn’t move for a minute or two while I called 9-1-1.” Jack cried as Dr Rush and Albert showed up. 

Albert looked between Jack and Spot before nodding at them. Dr Peter Rush sighed. “Didn’t we just kick you to the curb, Plums?” 

“Missed it too much. Had to come check up on all of you.” She grinned. “I’m fine you guys. It’s just a little head wound.” 

Dr Rush stepped up to the bed and looked her over. “Albert, would you take Jack to the waiting room? We’re going to do some tests and you can come back in.” 

Jack shook his head, giving Spot a pleading look. “I’ll come get you when we’re done, I promise.” 

Letting Albert guide him, Jack sighed loudly. “Love you, Kat.”

“Love you too Jack. Go I’ll be fine. Call your brother.” She gave him a look, watching him walk away before looking at the two men in front of her. “Spot don’t start. Order a full blood work panel and see what’s up. Also, just stitch me up.” 

Dr Rush chuckled. “She self diagnosed herself . . . why was I paged?” 

“Possible concussion and because she’s a stubborn little thing and I needed someone to look at her.” Spot chuckled. “Anything else?” 

Looking at Kat, Dr Rush gave her a look. “What year is it?” 

“2020.” She grinned. 

“And what day of the week is it?” He asked. 

“Tuesday.” 

“And what’s your puppy’s name?” 

Kat grinned. “Basil.” 

“I want a CT scan, I want to know why she’s fainting. I don’t think she has a concussion.” He handed her chart to Spot. “Let me know what you find out. Kat, take it easy; try to sleep some while you’re here. Let us run tests and we’ll see what’s going on.” 

Waiting until he left, Spot gave her a look before drawing blood. “Did you take a test?” 

Swatting him, she shook her head. “No but knowing you, you’re gonna run one. Put a rush on those, please?” 

“Will do. You scared Jack.” He said, flicking the test tube a bit to ensure all the bubbles were out of it before putting a barcode on it. He would deliver the blood to the lab himself. “Do you need anything?” 

She sighed, pushing herself up in the bed. “I know I scared Jack - one minute I’m complaining about you and the next I'm on the floor with his mug hovering over me. Can I have some water? Can you grab Jack?” 

“I’ll have Al bring you some water. Anything to eat? And yes, I’ll grab Jack as I head to the lab.” He promised, patting her leg. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”

Kat smiled, biting her lip. “I had lunch. Thank you for everything, Spot.” 

Spot patted her shoulder before giving her cheek a kiss. “Rest. I’ll send Jack and Al back here. Love you.”

“Love you to, Spot.” She smiled. “Thank you.” 

He nodded, stepping out closing the curtain behind him before heading to the waiting room. Spot quickly found Jack sitting there with Racer beside him. They both stood as he approached. “How is she?” 

“She’s good. She’s hooked up to an IV getting some fluids. We took blood work and I’ll bring it up to the lab. She’s going to be getting stitches and a CT scan and will know more in a bit.” Spot smiled at the two. “You guys can come back and sit with her if you want, until we take her up for the scan.” 

They both nodded and followed him through the maze of the ER. He stopped at the desk and grinned at Al. “Hey can you come stitch up Plums? And grab her some water.” 

“Sure. Thought you’d want to do that?” Al grinned, looking between Spot and the two behind him. 

Fishing in his scrubs pocket, he pulled out the vial of blood. “Gotta take this to the labs. I’ll meet you guys by Kat in a bit.”

Tugging on Race’s hand, he pulled him closer. “Hi love. I’m sorry it’s so chaotic but I’m glad you’re here for Jack.”

“Hi yourself.” Race grinned, leaning over and kissing him. “Go be the hero and save the day. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

With a pep in his step, Spot gave him a look before heading towards the elevator. Tapping his foot, he took a moment to inhale a deep breath before exhaling. He hoped the vial of blood would clue them in on what’s going on, though he had a pretty good feeling. 

Walking into the lab, he grinned seeing Elmer standing there. “Hey man is there any way you can rush this and run this while I wait?” 

Elmer gave Spot a look. “It’ll cost you.” 

“Whatever it takes. I just need this done. Order should be in your inbox.” Spot handed over the vial, leaning against the wall, taking out his cell phone. 

A quietness descended on the two. Spot took that time to flip through the texts he had received, most of them from Race trying to figure out what was going on with Kat. He sent Race a text to see how Kat was doing and glanced up at Elmer. “How’s your day been?”

“Busy. Y’all couldn’t have a quiet day in the ER could you?” Elmer gave him a look grinning. 

Spot chuckled. “Never. But it’s been quieter than the last few days, knock on wood.” 

Elmer laughed, shaking his head. “Glad you’re in the mayhem and I’m not. Alright, the tests will be in the patient's file by the time you get back downstairs.” 

“Thank you! I owe you.” Spot clapped his hands, heading towards the elevator, pressing the down button. 

Stepping off the elevator, he headed to the desk, pulling up Plums’ chart before reading the labs. His eyes widened at the one result, a grin pushing through his lips. Logging off the computer, he headed back to her bed. “Oh thank god you’re back.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking between Jack and Race who both had grins, Albert who was frozen halfway between the bed and the curtain and Kat who just looked half asleep. 

“These two are trying to convince Al to put purple or green stitches in. They think they’re funny but they’re not.” She rolled her eyes, hand flying to her head with a groan. “Can you stop them?”

Spot gave his husband and brother-in-law a look, pointing at them. “Al go check up on status for a CT, you two sit there and touch nothing.” 

Walking to a drawer, he grabbed a few things, looking at Kat. “Did he numb you up yet?”

“No. He was too busy being egged on by these two.” Kat gave him a look. “Can you assign him flu cases for the next week?” 

Spot grinned. “Shhh that’s our secret. How are you feeling?” 

“Slight headache and just tired.” She gave him a faint smile as he prepped to stitch her up. 

“Race, don't look at Kat. Keep your eyes away from her.” Spot said, glancing over his shoulder. “Just a few more Kat.” 

Snipping the thread, he threw everything just as Al came back in. “They can take her now if you’re ready.” 

“You two will have to wait in the waiting room.” Spot gave Jack and Race a look as Jack started to protest. “She’s going to be upstairs, running tests. You’ll be bored so we’ll come get you once she’s back.” 

“Is she going to have to stay overnight?” Jack asked, standing. 

Spot shrugged. “Probably not but we’ll know more after the CT scan. Don’t panic - this is routine and normal. She’s okay, Jack.” 

Kat grinned at her husband and brother as they both gave her kisses. Al and Spot transferred her upstairs, Al leaving them at radiology. “So what did my labs say?”

“You owe me.” Spot looked at her. “You’re pregnant.” 

Tears clouded her eyes, as she shook her head. “Really?” 

“Yup.” Spot nodded. “We can do an ultrasound if you want when you go back down.” 

She chuckled. “Not exactly how I wanted Jack to find out or you and Racer.” 

“But it’s kinda perfect.” Spot grinned. 

She nodded, folding her hands over her stomach. “Can we not tell Jack? I will, I just want him not to find out with the hubble babloo of the ER.” 

“Let me talk to Rush and we’ll see what we can do.” Spot grinned. “Now let’s get this CT scan done and we can get you out of here.” 

He sent a text to Rush with Kat’s request and waited in the hall until she was done. Blink quickly read the report and didn’t see anything abnormal which they expected. Pushing her back downstairs, Spot put her back in her bed before going to find Race and Jack. “She’s back in bed. I’ll have Dr Rush come in and she should be released soon.” 

“Spot, give it to me straight. Is she okay?” Jack stopped him before he started to head to the back. 

He bit his lip, looking between Race and Jack. “She’s going to be okay, Jack. Dr Rush wants to look at everything before coming to talk to you guys, okay?” 

Jack nodded, following Spot to the back. Race followed them, but held back as Jack went to see Kat. “You’re lying.” 

“Am not.” Spot gave his husband a look. “And since when do you know all medical things?”

Race grinned. “You biting your lip is a tell. You know something.”

“Even if I knew something, I couldn’t tell you because of confidentiality.” Spot gave him a look. “Besides if they want you to know, you’ll know.” 

Race’s eyes lit up. “So you do know something. Spottie . . .” 

“No, Racetrack. Go in and check on Kat.” Spot pushed him towards the curtain, giving him a pointed look. “I’ve got to get the doctor then I’ll be in. Don’t be a nuisance.” 

Spot watched him disappear behind the curtain before heading to the nurse’s station. He saw Dr Rush standing there and slided up beside him. “Did you see Kat’s labs?” 

“I was just looking at them. Now what does she want to do?” Rush looked at him, flipping through the labs. 

Spot grinned. “She doesn’t want us to tell them about the lab results. So I was thinking we tell them she was dehydrated and she needs to push fluids for the next couple of hours.” 

Dr Rush nodded, motioning him towards Kat’s curtain. Spot walked behind him, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

They stepped in and all eyes turned to them. “We have your results. Looks like you’re dehydrated but everything looks good. I would suggest taking it easy for the next couple of days and push fluids - water and juice. Skip the alcohol.” 

Jack leaned over and kissed Kat’s forehead with a strangled chuckled. He closed his eyes, continuing to kiss her forehead. “Any questions?” 

Kat laughed, shaking her head. “I think we’re all set. When can I leave?”

“As soon as Spot writes up the discharge papers.” Rush gave them all a look before stepping out of the curtain. Spot looked at the pure excitement in the room and the relief on Jack’s face. “Kat, do you need anything?” 

She looked at Race and Jack who were both grinning brightly at her, a weight lifted from their shoulders at their wife and sister being alright. “Nah I think I’m alright. Just get the papers ready?” 

“I’ll get them ready.” Spot chuckled. “How are you getting home?” 

Race raised his hand. “I told them I would take them home since Jack rode in the ambulance with them.” 

Nodding, Spot left the area, heading over to the nurse’s desk to start the paperwork. Spot logged into the computer, reviewing his notes before typing them up. Finishing them up, he quickly printed them off. Grabbing that and a prescription that printed off, he headed back to Kat’s area. 

“Basically, keep hydrated, rest, don’t do anything dumb.” Spot gave Jack the paperwork, giving him a look. “Keep her calm, even though she doesn’t have a concussion, she might have a hell of a headache. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

Jack nodded, giving him a look. “Thank you Spot. I’ll text you if I have any questions.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He gave Kat a look. “Let Jack wait on you hand and foot. No Dr Plums today . . . it’s just Katherine for the day. Go watch all those Hallmark movies you love and cuddle Basil.” 

He started taking the wires and IV out before giving her a look.  “Do you need anything before you go?” 

She shook her head as Albert came up with a wheelchair, before helping her into the wheelchair. Patting Jack’s back, Spot watched them walk out of the area with a smile on his face. He just hoped that Kat would tell him sooner rather than later. 

Race caught him as he walked out of the area. “Hey, what time will you be home tonight?” 

“Around 5. You still making dinner?” Spot asked, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Race nodded. “Pasta, right or do you want something else?” 

“Kind of craving homemade pizza.” Spot grinned. “I’ll see you at home, I love you.” 

“Love you too. Have a good rest of your shift.” Race kissed him, waving goodbye before heading out of the emergency room. 

Going back to the desk, he collapsed in the chair, rubbing his hand over his face with a loud sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the noises around him. He heard the chair next to him slide across the floor, as he peaked an eye open. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m doing as well as I can be right now.” Spot sighed. “Got another two hours before I’m done and all I want is a bed for a nap. How are you doing? Ready for all the incoming flu cases coming your way?” 

Albert threw his head back, groaning. “Ha you’re funny. I’m fine. I wasn’t in the room all that much but it seems as if Kat’s alright - just dehydrated from what I saw.” 

Spot nodded, grinning. “I’m sure Jack will be the perfect nurse for him.” 

The next two hours passed by without an issue, a few simple cuts and bruises and an arm that needed to be set. He quickly grabbed his stuff before clocking out and heading home. He sighed, getting into the car, starting to head home.

He was looking forward to laying on the couch with Sassie, their dog, and looking forward to whatever kind of pizza Race was making that night. Pulling into their driveway, he quickly got out before slamming the car door behind him. Walking up the sidewalk, he pushed open the door, inhaling deeply, sighing in content at the spiciness in the house. 

“Honey I’m home.” He tiredly called, dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes. “And it’s been a hell of a day.” 

Race poked his head out of the kitchen while Sassie made her way over to him. He patted her a few times, before leaning over and kissing Race. “I love you. It was good to have you in the emergency room and not be the patient.” 

“I love you too and you’re not funny.” Race rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I have a beer open and ready for you.” 

Quickly changing into sweatpants and a hoodie, he sat at the kitchen table and watched Race finish up dinner. He relaxed in the chair and listened to Race prattle on about anything and everything. As they were finishing up dinner, both of their cell phones chirped with a text message. “OH HELL YES!” 

Race did a weird jig in the middle of the kitchen, with the biggest grin on his face. Spot gave him a look. “What?” 

“WE’RE GONNA BE UNCLES, SPOTTIE!!!!” Race yelled, continuing his jig. “Jack just texted the news.” 

Spot grinned, shaking his head, standing up and joining him in his awkward jig. The secret would stay with him now. In this moment, he would jig with his husband and celebrate the happy news.

There’s almost 3500 words of another emergency room fic featuring doc Kat and nurse Spottie. Hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! 

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 15)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 My Master Post

The next two hours were the most frustrating ones of Logan’s life. It seemed like the entire universe, or perhaps more accurately his entire family, was doing its best to make his life and job as stressful as possible.

He’d stepped away from his desk for less than one minute to make sure Darlene and Fredrick’s coms were set up to his specifications. He had them outfitted with what he would usually give to undercover agents. It was a constant feed of audio from their side and Logan could talk to them with a click of a button. It was on an entirely different frequency than anyone else used and, barring damage to the actual equipment itself, it should never go offline.

When he got back to his desk and checked his phone, he had a missed call and a text message from Patton. Of course. Of course, in the 30 seconds he is away from his desk, someone finally calls him back. He opened the text message. His first thought was, ‘Patton, you are lactose intolerant. Why are you buying so much cheese?!’ His second thought was that the string of emojis was unintelligible. What about a baby and a knife?! If he’d just bought cheese, why did he need to go get a burger, fries, and ice cream, and on that count, why more dairy?

He tried to call Patton back, but as he was beginning to expect at this point, there was no answer. Frustrated, he slammed his finger down on the end call button. ‘I have no idea what that means’ he texted him back. He set his phone back down on his desk after making absolutely sure his ringer was at full volume.

“Be sure to track all traffic updates in their path,” Logan said. The other people in the base snapped to attention, their fingers going to work at their keyboards. Then, he pushed the button on his desk. “Fredrick?” he asked.

“We just got on I-26,” Fredrick replied instantly.

“Good,” Logan replied. He sat down in his chair to rub at his eyes and grabbed his phone once more. He shot off texts to different people in a pattern he was getting very used to at this point. Then, he went back to look at Patton’s message once again. “Why must you always use these infernal things?” he asked the text from his brother. He looked over his shoulder and saw Clara looking up. “Clara,” he said. She flinched at his tone.

“Yes?” she asked hesitantly.

“Are you literate in the emoji text message language?” he asked.

“Um…yes?” she said.

He stood and placed his phone in front of her. “Can you make sense of this message from Patton?” he asked.

“Er,” she said, looking at it with a perplexed expression on her face. “I’m getting… he bought a lot of cheese. Then he kidnapped… or got kidnapped by a baby? He got fast food and then did other things… then got gas and coffee. Um, he says everything’s cool and he loves you.”

“He got kidnapped by a baby?” Logan asked skeptically.

She gave him a helpless shrug. “That’s what he said. He got in his car at the grocery store, but there was a baby with a knife and the baby made him drive.”

“Well, thank you for trying,” Logan said. He took his phone back from her and wandered back over to his desk.

“Okay,” Darlene was saying over the coms. “But why do you even need chair covers for your apartment?”

“To prevent damage and stains,” Fredrick said back.

“You bought them for $20 at a yard sale. They’re already stained.”

“Even more of a reason to make a seat cover for them! It’ll make them cuter, and since I’m sewing them, I can personalize! See look, here’s the pattern I’m using.”

“Fred, I’m driving.”

They continued to chat idly about Fredrick’s latest sewing project. Logan was just content to have an open line of communication with his agents.

They eventually moved on from arguing the merit of chair covers and went on to discussing the pattern and color options. Well, Fredrick at least was discussing it. Darlene had descended into noncommittal hums, ‘yep’s and ‘I can’t look at that because I’m driving’s.

“Do you like this flower design or this flower design better?” Fredrick was asking.

“The first one,” was the answer.

“You didn’t even look!”

“Boss, there’s been an accident on I-26,” Emerson informed him from his desk.

“Where?” Logan asked.

“Around exit 52. The actual accident was only on the east side, but it was a truckload of cows, so it’ll likely affect Fred and Lena’s path.”

“Alright,” Logan said. “Find me the quickest alternative route.” Emerson nodded and turned back to his computer. Logan pushed the talk button. “There is an accident ahead of you,” he informed Fredrick and Darlene. “We will be giving you an alternate route. Stand by.”

“Yes, boss,” Darlene replied.

“Have them take exit 65 and get on Highway 236,” Emerson instructed.

Logan nodded and pressed down the button again. “You’ll want to get off on exit 65,” he told them. “You’ll take 236 until you’re past the accident.”

“Got it,” Darlene replied.

“We just passed mile marker 61 a few seconds ago, so we’ll be there soon,” Fredrick offered.

Darlene and Fredrick exited the interstate without any problems. It was a few minutes later that, with the obnoxious sound of a saxophone, the song titled ‘We Are the Number One Bad Guys’ (which was reportedly a mash-up of a song from a children’s show and a pop song) started blaring from his phone. Usually he’d be annoyed by hearing that sound as Patton and Remus had set it behind his back and he couldn’t figure out how to change it. Today, however, the sound was a relief. He grabbed his phone to look at the text message from Remus.

‘I’m not his keeper’ is what the text said in response to Logan’s many messages asking him if he knew where his brother was.

Logan stared at his phone for a least a whole minute.

“What’s wrong boss?” Clara finally hesitantly asked.

“I,” Logan said calmly. “Love. My. Children.”

“…Uh huh?”

Logan typed back a message he was certain at this point would not get a response, and then he hit the talk button on his desk. “So, Fredrick,” he said. “Tell me more about these chair covers. You mentioned flowers?”

“Uh…” Fredrick’s voice said. “Yes?”

Logan glanced up at the other agents in the room who were all staring intently at the designs in their desks. “Have you considered paisley?”

Logan focused on listening to Fredrick and Darlene’s conversation while the rest of the office focused on not looking at him unless it was to update him on the traffic for Fredrick and Darlene for the next 15 minutes.

“Whoa!” Darlene suddenly said, and Logan could hear the sound of braking through the sensitive listening devices

“What?” Logan pushed the button to ask.

“There were a couple of cars in our lane…” Fredric said.

“Was that a gun shot?” Logan asked when there was a loud pop on the other end.

“Uh… give us a minute boss,” Darlene requested.

He could hear the engines turn after a moment, likely as they accelerated again.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked.

“We’re, in a car chase now, apparently,” Fredrick replied, voice strained.

“Why?” Logan asked.

“I recognized the first car!” Darlene said.

“What do you mean you recognize the car?” Logan asked.

“I… shit!” Darlene said. Logan could hear the sound of tires squealing. A few seconds later there was a huge crash followed by a couple of incredibly loud splashes.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked.

There was cursing on the other end of the line in response and the sound of two doors slamming shut and then running.

“Darlene! Fredrick! What is going on?!”

There were a few more seconds where he could hear the sound of breathing and then the sound cut out halfway through the sound of a splash.

“Fredrick?” Logan said. “Darlene?” He took his finger off the button. “Please tell me we didn’t just lose the signal,” he said to the room at large.

There was silence.

“Please, someone tell me we didn’t just lose the signal to the high-tech spy gear I put on both of my agents.”

After a pause, Emerson finally spoke. “It’s… it’s not waterproof sir.”

“I see,” Logan said, his tone serene. “It isn’t waterproof.” He looked down at his hands settled on the top of his desk next to his useless talk button and the phone that no one seemed to be willing to call or text with anything useful. He turned his hands over, grabbed the bottom of the desk, and flipped the whole thing over. His computer smashed on the ground and the normally well-organized pens and papers scattered across the floor. “Well, why the hell isn’t it waterproof?!”

No one dared to answer his question, and Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, surveying his broken computer and overturned desk for a few minutes.

Eventually, he straightened. “I need to borrow someone’s desk,” he said. Three people scrambled to their feet, but he held up a hand. “I’ll use Darlene’s,” They all scrambled back to their desks, “and send someone after those two!” He strode over to Darlene’s desk and sat at her computer. He pulled up every local news outlet he could find. They needed to find a new starting place, because he honestly didn’t know where to go from here.

He spent an hour trying to piece together what exactly was happening out there with news articles, police scanners, and other information channels. There was an explosion an hour and a half earlier in the city where this all started, and he worried that had something to do with the lack of communication as it was on the road from Nelsen’s base to the city. However, that still left almost 2 hours before that of silence from Roman and Janus unaccounted for. There were also two separate break-ins to the security office of the grocery store down the street from Remington Gates home which Logan imagined somehow was connected, but he couldn’t figure out how. And what did the cows have to do with it? Anything? Everything? What was going on? There was no news about whatever had happened with Fredrick and Darlene and the other team of agents he sent after them were still 20 minutes out from their last known location.

“Uh, boss?” a tentative voice said. Logan looked up at Clara who was standing at the edge of the desk. She flinched at the expression on his face when he looked up.

“Unless a member of my family or Virgil Gates has arrived at this base, I don’t want to hear about it,” he snapped.

“Well…” she replied, “actually…”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 16

[brideofedoras]

Under Covers, pt 2

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, arousal and sex dreams

Word count: 2900+

Under Covers

Thank you all for the lovely responses to Under Covers, I know that surprise twist was evil of me (but I don’t regret it, it just felt right!).  I received a few requests for a part two, and a suggestion for it to be Cooper’s POV.

So... here is Uncer Covers, as told by Cooper...

And, because I’m just as horny for William Cooper, there will be a part three!  Mwuah!  Love all of ya!

@urban-trek-thru-middle-earth​ @emily-strange​ @nora-hewlett​ @to-boldly-nope​ @pandaqueen7799​ @bakerstreethound​ @portals-to-a-new-world​ @below-average-fangirl​ @writerdee1701​ @ladyreapermc​

Cooper reached for the travel mug in the console… but his fingers curled around nothing.  A quick glance away from the early morning traffic showed an empty cup holder.  “Well, that’s just typical,” he snarled grumpily.

His morning was off to a fan-fucking-tastic start, with a burnt Hot Pocket, his much-needed second cup of coffee forgotten on his desk at the office, and a restless night filled with some incredibly hot dreams of the only person he could one-hundred percent trust at work.

Ember.

She was a blessing, whether she knew it or not.  Quiet, intelligent, efficient, with an uncanny ability to anticipate his needs.  Beautiful.  Sexy.  A big flirt who had done a lot for his ego and self-esteem these past few months, and making him remember he was still a red-blooded man.

Last night’s solo sex on the back deck with a cigar and bourbon, fantasizing about having her on the glider swing or spread out on the patio table… bent over the deck railing…  

“Down, dammit,” he glared down at his crotch when he felt that familiar stir.  

Evidently that quick wank in the shower earlier hadn’t helped.  

God, he hated waking up horny.

It was going to be a dreadfully, painfully, long weekend, he thought as he signalled to pull into the parking lot for Ember’s apartment building.

When the file detailing the op landed on his desk he had immediately known he would assign Ember as his partner.  She did not have a lot of field experience, and had zero undercover experience, but she was a quick learner and self-sufficient.  He’d seen her wipe the floor during hand-to-hand combat training under Kordesky (he was supposed to be teaching that course, but at the time he’d been recovering from busted ribs from an op gone wrong).  Men three times her size hadn’t stood a chance.

It had both terrified him and turned him on.

But an entire weekend, maybe a tad longer, pretending to be a couple on a romantic getaway to nail a bad guy, with her…

Fuck, I’m screwed.

With a frustrated sigh he plucked his phone from the holder on the dash (strictly for GPS reasons) and pulled up the last text thread.

I’m outside.

His hazel eyes flickered to the old limestone building built in the ‘30s and remodeled, what, twenty years ago, into an apartment complex, wondering which part of the structure her apartment was in.  

His phone chirped in his hand.

Be down in a minute.

He groaned, his eyes dropping to his zipper once more.  I won’t.

If he survived the weekend, it would be a miracle.

He started to put the phone back on the clip when he realized he needed to tell her he wasn’t in his SUV.

Black Mercedes sedan.

Her response popped up a second later.  No Porsche?

He chuckled.  “No, no Porsche,” he mused out loud.  He’d thought about it, the sweet little Roadster the CIA had confiscated a while back.  Gorgeous car… but not ideal for a six hour drive to North Carolina.

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis, he texted back.

A classic sports car and a sexy young woman would most definitely make him look like he was.  Well… so would the Mercedes, but it drove like a dream and wouldn’t kill his back or ass for the long trip.

You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

“Oh, you’re flirting, Sweetheart,” he groaned.  He shook his head to clear it before pressing his hand hard against his crotch.  “Behave, dammit, stay down.”

He had no idea when he’d find the opportunity to handle that particular issue.  The little bungalow on the beach they’d be calling home for the next few days only had one bedroom.  Light, airy, lots of windows and a door opening out onto a veranda, a king size bed--

He pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw Ember step out of the building.

“Fuck.”

God damn was he screwed.

Ember was dressed in a snug, scoop neck tank top and cutoff shorts that showed off her long legs.

Legs he’d dreamed of wrapped around his hips.  Draped over his shoulders.  Hooked over his elbows.

“Now is not the time to rehash your favorite fantasies, William,” he scolded himself as he climbed out of the car.  He took the opportunity to adjust himself and straighten his plaid shirt to try to conceal the ridge in his jeans before he walked around to the trunk to open it.

Did she nearly trip over her own feet?

He kept that question to himself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it next to his.  He carefully shut the lid before turning his attention on Ember.

“Get in the car, Kid.”

She immediately bristled before storming off.

Oh shit, he sighed heavily as he watched her yank open the passenger door.  He quickly rounded the car to climb into the driver’s seat.  “Easy there, Tiger,” he looked over at her.  “You okay?”

She shut the door and buckled up before taking in a deep breath.  

Yeah, Cooper, you hit the wrong damn button by accident, he realized.  Better salvage this and fast!

“Yeah.  Sleepless night.”  Her smile was faker than the phony IDs his buddy had made for them in high school.

Yup, wrong button.  

He frowned in sympathy.  “Worried about the op?”  He was giving her a bullshit excuse for her temper flareup and he knew it, but he also knew Ember would not admit him calling her “kid” had upset her.    

Her smile fell, allowing him to see how tired she was.  “You could say that.”

“You’ve got the easy job,” he reminded her as he started the car.  “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

Inwardly he flinched.  Wow, Cooper.  That was smooth.

“You call that easy?”  The blush staining her cheeks was downright adorable.  “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried!”

He grinned.  Either she’s in denial about flirting or she’s clueless that she’s a natural.

“‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell?  Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

God, he could still feel her hand cupping his jaw and her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

Her blush grew brighter.  “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!”

“You were flirting,” he grinned even more.  “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over!”

Uh-huh.  A whole plate piled high with monster cookies, his favorite fucking kind?

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he couldn't help but chuckle.  “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”  

Please forgive me.

Ember shuddered and turned a little green.  “Pretty sure he lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” he slowed for a stoplight.  “Not your type, then?”

Please say no.  You deserve so much better than him.  Or me.

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

He busted out laughing at her sassy rebuttal.  There’s my girl, he struggled to get the mirth under control so he could speak again.  “No, no, I haven’t,” he shot her a look.  “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.” 

She finally smiled.  “I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” her own voice was laced with a touch of humor.

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride,” he pointed out.  “She made Sanderson cry a couple of times.  You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she mused.  “And I don’t flirt.”

Oh, Honey.

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”  He struggled to keep another grin at bay.

“Not flirting!”  She twisted away from him.

But not before he glimpsed the splotching blush dotting her chest.

His mind went south before he could stop it.  Does she blush like that after an orgasm?

God dammit.

“What is it, then?”  He mentally shook himself to get his mind back on the conversation.  He winced when her head thumped against the window.

“The truth.  Thirty-five is still young,” she sighed.  “Age is only a number.  What matters is how you feel inside.  Take Grandpa-- er, Henry, for example.  He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”

“I need to find out what his secret is,” he joked.  Sometimes he needed more energy to make it through the day.

“No!”  Her voice squeaked.  “You don’t want to do that!”

His jaw dropped as he looked at her.  “Wait, he really has a secret?  What is it?”  He needed to know.

She blushed again.  “Nope,” she shook her head as if she were trying to shake off an unpleasant thought.  “It was bad enough overhearing it.  I’m not telling you.”

Oh.

Must’ve been something dirty if she was blushing like that.

“H-how long of a drive is it again?”

Did her voice just crack?

“Six hours if the traffic isn’t bad,” he answered.

“Straight through, no stops?” 

He chuckled.  “I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster.  You have breakfast yet?”  He glanced over to see her shake her head.

“There’s a coffee shop up ahead,” she pointed out.  “They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

His stomach grumbled quietly.    “Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she paused to cover her yawn.  “They come with sausage and cheese.  You’ve already had their donuts.”

His mind tripped back to the massive powdered sugar donut that had led to her soft touch that fateful afternoon.  His unintentional groan at that memory bordered on sinful.  “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen.  I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

No, down, he stubbornly told himself off at the images popping into his head.  “You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”  He inwardly grimaced at the husky and teasing tone in his voice.  Who’s flirting now, Cooper?

“Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

She had his number.  Damn, she really is good.  “Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches even for a little catnap anymore,” he signaled to turn into the lot for the coffee shop.  

Liar, he ratted on himself.  He’d spent too many nights on the couch before Michelle asked for a divorce when she finally decided she couldn’t take being a CIA agent’s wife anymore.  If it weren’t for his kids he would not have gotten the couch for his new place.

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it?  We could share it.  I promise to be on my best behavior.”

He coughed to cover a strangled groan.  Share a bed with Ember?  All weekend?

Fuck.

“What?”  She asked.

“You’re flirting again.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she frowned at him.  “My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he rolled his window down.  “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Cooper was pretty sure the barista, Tomer, was eye-fucking him.  Not the first time that had ever happened, but it sure as hell was the first time a guy was so bold about it.  And the not-so-subtle looks he was giving Ember were poorly hidden.  

Oh, yes, I’m gonna be the topic of conversation the next time she stops in, he chuckled to himself.  It was both amusing and flattering.

By the time they hit the freeway his two breakfast sandwiches were demolished and she was barely finished with hers.  He shifted to get comfortable.  Long trips by car were never fun, the miles monotonous and the seat unforgiving.  

Flying had not been an option.  The department could not justify using the jet for a weekend op, which left commercial flights.  He personally hated that option.  Checking weapons and other tools of the trade through security was a headache he did not want to deal with.  It was easier to drive.

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

It never hurt to go over plans a few times, and with this being Ember’s first undercover op he wanted her prepared.

The breathy “no” from her caught him off guard.

He shot her a quick glance.  “Seat reclines if you want to take a quick nap,” he swallowed the groan at the mental images of her stretched out on her back in that leather seat, him leaning over her…  He shifted in his seat when his jeans grew a little tight again.  “If you want to turn the radio on, go for it,” he cleared his throat (and his head).  “I listen to just about anything.  Except for the new crap.”

“Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff, either.”

Thank god.

“I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”  She asked softly.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

When the opening guitar licks for one of his favorite songs began to play he grinned.

God, if this song wasn’t the ultimate euphemism for sex.  And the tempo.  Jesus Christ.

And the fact that Ember had the Scorpions on whatever playlist she had?  His crush on her grew that much more.

It reminded him of his high school days, his first car, T-tops off and cruising the strip rocking out to AC/DC, pretty girl in the passenger seat.

Sometimes he missed those days, not having any responsibilities other than keeping his grades up for football.  

He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel and sang along off-key.  He found himself really getting into the music and tried to tone it down, but after catching Ember trying not to stare he decided to put his all into it.

And all bets were off when his favorite Def Leppard song came on.  

They played random road trip games when he wasn’t rocking out.  Counting state license plates.  Slug bug (or punch buggie as his little Katie loved to holler, especially when she saw the blue ones).  Billboard alphabet.  Count the road kill (gruesome but it worked).  I spy.

When she yawned for the tenth time in about as many minutes he realized why she was playing the games.  She was trying to stay awake despite repeated suggestions to recline the seat back and take a nap.  He even threatened to sing her to sleep.

She stubbornly insisted she needed to stay awake to help him watch traffic.

Somewhere along the way she did fall asleep.  He smiled to himself when she sighed in her sleep and shifted to get comfortable in her seat.  As carefully as he could he reached over to slip her sunglasses off and laid them on the dash.

No way was he waking her up any time soon.  She needed to rest up.  

He was humming along to “In The Air Tonight” and miming the drum solo above the steering wheel (it was a federal offense to not perform the drum solo) when a soft whine came from the passenger seat.  He quickly glanced over at the distressed sound.  “You okay over there?”  He pressed the button on the steering wheel to turn the volume down even more for the radio.

She shifted in her seat, head lolling toward him before a quiet snore reached his ears.  He chuckled and shook his head before he turned back to watch the road.  They were ten minutes from the nearest fast food restaurant and despite still being full from breakfast he needed to go to the bathroom and stretch his legs.  He just didn’t have the heart to wake Ember up quite yet.

A few minutes later she drew in a deep breath and moaned.

That moan sounded suspiciously like his last name.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Ember shifted and moaned again.  “We… shouldn’t…”

He felt his cock begin to stir at the soft little sounds coming from her.  Sounds he had fantasized about more than once.

“Oh… god…” she squirmed.

Fuck, his jeans were uncomfortably tight.  Cooper flipped the turn signal and checked his mirrors before exiting the freeway.  

Her moans and gasps were more frequent now, with his name whined out a few times.  He drew in a shaky breath, that last guttural moan damn near making him cum right there.  

It would be cruel to wake her up, he thought as he pulled into McDonald’s parking lot.  But he could not sit in the car and listen to her have a sex dream about him.

“Oh… god… Cooper…”

The way she was panting.

The way his cock was throbbing dangerously.

He hated himself, for having no choice but to listen to her pretty little sex dream sounds and for waking her up before she could…

No.  Do.  Not.  Think.  About.  It.

“Ember,” he gently squeezed her shoulder before he chickened out.  “Wake up, Sleepyhead,” he murmured gruffly when she blinked her eyes open.  “We’re stopping for lunch.”

She looked disoriented, and he kicked himself for interrupting that dream.

He pulled away, breaking contact before his body could overrule his brain and pounce on her.  “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing.  Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

When she remained quiet he looked over.  “No comment?”  

“No!”  Damn, that blush was beautiful on her.  “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he agreed as he pocketed the keys.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”