#james cancer research

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

I will never recover from the knowledge that thymoma generally has a very high survival rate, and in most cases that it becomes fatal, the patient has unknowingly lived with the cancer for years. There's a chance that Wilson was sick for half the series and didn't even know it.

[stepbackattack]

[grinchwrapsupreme]

sitting here scanning through research papers about thymomas trying to figure out if Wilson could have had cancer the entire series because i’ve got problems

the answer is yes by the way

[twitchywoman]

Join the Fight Against Breast Cancer and Parkinson's Disease

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied. 

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them. 

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks. 

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared. 

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction. 

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes. 

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table. 

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it. 

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed. 

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.” 

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling. 

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence. 

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word. 

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.” 

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him. 

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?” 

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.” 

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.” 

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.” 

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?” 

“Almost,” you smiled. 

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.” 

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.” 

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.” 

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.” 

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment. 

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards. 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.” 

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week. 

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush. 

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted. 

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you. 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?” 

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!” 

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced. 

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured. 

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back. 

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically. 

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you. 

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him. 

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back. 

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.” 

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work. 

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head. 

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!” 

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged. 

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries. 

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.” 

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.” 

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said. 

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.” 

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. 

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.” 

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement. 

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed. 

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies. 

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke. 

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone. 

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu. 

“It’s already done?” he asked. 

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.” 

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down. 

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night. 

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. 

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said. 

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag. 

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked. 

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?” 

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?” 

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.” 

“You live here?” he asked. 

“That’s what I said,” you nodded. 

“And so that’s how you know French?” 

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.” 

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal. 

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered. 

“Oh, I don’t want to-,” 

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him. 

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.” 

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed. 

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon. 

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.” 

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.” 

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you. 

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you. 

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.” 

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?” 

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away. 

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream. 

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked. 

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.” 

You ignored his response and continued, 

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?” 

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid, 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.” 

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders. 

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.” 

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.” 

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.” 

You pursed your lips and nodded your head. 

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.” 

—

A few years later… 

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room. 

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon. 

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!” 

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain. 

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.” 

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.” 

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.” 

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you. 

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head. 

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.” 

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented. 

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.” 

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.” 

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre. 

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head. 

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.” 

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically. 

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes. 

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head. 

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself. 

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed. 

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.” 

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.” 

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it. 

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay. 

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch. 

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities. 

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married. 

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games. 

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce. 

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed. 

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.” 

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.” 

“A month,” House said. 

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it. 

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along. 

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?” 

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane. 

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him. 

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.” 

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded. 

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him. 

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.” 

The man looked at James strangely before saying. 

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.” 

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French. 

“Hmm.” 

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation. 

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”. 

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language. 

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.” 

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.” 

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase. 

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.” 

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,” 

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill. 

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier. 

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane. 

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied. 

“You don’t have any with you,” House said. 

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again. 

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said. 

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper. 

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face. 

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?” 

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab. 

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.” 

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,” 

“22,” James filled in and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been. 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?” 

“That would be correct,” you smiled. 

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?” 

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.” 

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested. 

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.” 

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch. 

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat. 

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare. 

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.” 

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast. 

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?” 

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.” 

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.” 

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird. 

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked. 

“We did?” James raised a brow. 

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained. 

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes. 

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food. 

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning. 

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return. 

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.” 

James shook his head, 

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.” 

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried. 

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply. 

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?” 

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you. 

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.” 

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head. 

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?” 

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves. 

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.” 

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.” 

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered. 

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend. 

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed. 

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat. 

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him. 

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added. 

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.” 

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.” 

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to. 

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch. 

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat. 

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?” 

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork. 

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair. 

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?” 

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.” 

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.” 

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted. 

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested. 

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled. 

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.” 

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there. 

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him. 

James put down his glass and nodded his head. 

“They are okay with it, right?” 

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine. 

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.” 

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure. 

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested. 

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,” 

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.” 

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.” 

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink. 

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.” 

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.” 

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added. 

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect. 

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?” 

“Nah,” he waved his hand. 

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked. 

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed. 

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?” 

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help. 

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on. 

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.” 

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.” 

“So there’s someone-?” 

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.” 

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject. 

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it. 

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.” 

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?” 

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted. 

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.” 

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground. 

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.” 

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him. 

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.” 

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him. 

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.” 

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.” 

“You noticed?” he asked. 

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled. 

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed. 

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat. 

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees. 

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food. 

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.” 

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.” 

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled. 

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?” 

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.” 

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?” 

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,” 

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.” 

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients. 

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal. 

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward. 

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him. 

“Hey James, are you okay?” 

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes. 

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him. 

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.” 

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly. 

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?” 

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned. 

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.” 

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist. 

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.” 

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment. 

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs. 

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company. 

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients. 

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable. 

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide. 

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying, 

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!” 

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red. 

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said, 

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.” 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.” 

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?” 

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly. 

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously. 

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance. 

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded. 

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look. 

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic. 

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.” 

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked. 

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer. 

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders. 

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself. 

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with. 

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door. 

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it. 

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours. 

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside. 

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow. 

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.” 

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?” 

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?” 

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. 

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.” 

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie. 

“What did you pick?” James asked. 

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.” 

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both. 

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen. 

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled. 

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright. 

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him. 

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen. 

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again. 

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head. 

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?” 

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.” 

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words. 

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter. 

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought. 

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded. 

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.” 

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.” 

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.” 

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked. 

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?” 

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!” 

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach. 

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes. 

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.” 

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.” 

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head. 

“Now hush and let me read.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned. 

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors. 

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. 

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?” 

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?” 

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh. 

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.” 

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.” 

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed. 

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself. 

You had heart-eyes. 

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James. 

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking, 

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?” 

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight. 

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?” 

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head. 

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted. 

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you. 

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked. 

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said. 

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled. 

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?” 

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.” 

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission. 

“Y-You would’ve said something?” 

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised. 

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.” 

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own. 

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,” 

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old. 

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together. 

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last. 

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple. 

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.” 

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.” 

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

[scotianostra]

9th October 1900 saw the birth in Edinburgh of Alastair Sim, the actor best known for his character and comedy roles.

He was the youngest of Alexander and Isabella Sim's four children. His father was a tailor who owned his own shop on Lothian Road, it is still a shop selling running gear nowadays.To use a suitable phrase for his father, I like the jib of the man, Alexander was one of a group of professional people in Edinburgh who noted the plight of wounded Veterans returning from the front who had little or no prospects of suitable accommodation or employment ahead of them. They founded the Scottish Veterans Garden City Association during the 1st World War and, under the chairmanship of Lord Salvesen, paid for the construction of houses for the use of returning servicemen.

Alexander Sim was offered, but refused, a knighthood.

For a time, the family lived above the shop, but as Alastair entered school, the business picked up enough that they were able to move to a house in Craigleith. Young Alistair was educated at Bruntsfield Primary, James Gillespie's High School and George Heriot's School. He worked for his father then another Edinburgh tailor but showed little aptitude and decided to enter Edinburgh University, studying analytical chemistry, but his further education was cut short when he was called up to the army. After the war he returned home and announced to his parents he was going to take up acting, this wnet down like a lead balloon and there was a falling out, Alistair left the family home and spent a year in the Scottish Highlands with a group of jobbing workers.

On returning to Edinburgh Sim took post in the burgh assessor's office. In his spare time, he entered poetry reading classes, winning the gold medal for verse speaking at the Edinburgh Music Festival.This led to him taking a job as a Fulton lecturer in elocution at New College, part of the University of Edinburgh.

Alastair Sim began working as a stage actor in 1930, taking on minor roles. His deep talent was soon discovered, and he was cast as Othello that same year. In 1932, he met and married Naomi Plaskill, his muse and wife for life. The couple had one child, a daughter named Merlith. It wasn't long before Sim moved to films in supporting roles. One of his more memorable characters was that of Detective Sergeant Bingham in the film series Inspector Hornleigh. His on-screen presence was so dominant that he has often been credited with "stealing the scene" from the film's star actors.

Throughout the 1940s, Sim was cast in several lead roles; he starred in the thriller Green for Danger, the comedy The Happiest Days of Your Life and Alfred Hitchcock's Stage Fright, among other major films. One of Sim's better-known portrayals was that of Captain Hook in the production of Peter Pan, a role he reprised six times during his career. In a national cinema poll in 1950, Sim was voted the most popular film actor in Britain.

I think quite a few of us will remember Alastair Sim in a slightly different role to those I have already pointed out, growing up before we had all the TV channels we have now and watching the old black & white films and the classic Belles of St Trinians where he played headmistress Millicent Fritton.

Looking through his other roles, I spotted he played the notorious Dr Knox, not once-but twice. For those who don't know, the doctor of note was a professor of Anatomy at Edinburgh University, he paid Messrs Burke & Hare for fresh cadavers to demonstrate the human anatomy at the University.

I mentioned Alistair's father refusing a knighthood, and it pleases me to tell you he too refused the offer of becoming Sir Alistair Sim in the early 70's.

He died of cancer in August 1976, insisting that his body be used for medical research - and that there should be no memorial service for him. His widow lived until 1999; she published a memoir, Dance and Skylark: Fifty Years with Alastair Sim in 1987. There is a plaque, commemorating Sim's birth, outside the Filmhouse Cinema in Lothian Road, Edinburgh, only a short distance from where he was born above his father's shop.

[beatingheart-bride]

Dorian was far from the only one of them who had his moments of acting up, it seemed: it was amusing to hear about everyone's more mischievous moments, moments none of them were exempt from. Even June had had her moments as a girl: Emily couldn't lie, it was especially funny to hear about the rare occasions in which her calm, well-behaved mother-in-law had gotten into trouble as a girl.

"Well, I can't pretend I've never sneaked away with anything out of the kitchen," Emily admitted, rather lax as she enjoyed another bubbly sip of sparkling cider. "I can't deny I've always had a bit of a sweet tooth, especially as a girl. I was especially fond of these blueberry-filled bonbons that my mother had shipped over all the way from France. I always had a habit of sneaking off with one or two when no one was looking, but one night, when I was feeling especially daring, I waited until everyone was asleep and ran off with a whole box! The next morning, my parents found the empty box and wrappers scattered across my bedroom floor, and me lying in bed with the worst stomachache of my life. I was banned from having any sweets for two weeks, but honestly, I'd felt like I'd had enough sweets for a lifetime at that point!"

It hadn't been that big of an issue in the long run, but it wasn't exactly something she'd want either Lon or Erika to replicate. The last thing she wanted was for either of them to make themselves sick from too much sugar, especially with how much any sign of illness in her loved ones could get underneath their grandmother's skin. Thankfully, they had yet to do anything on par with stealing a whole box of chocolates as of yet, and hopefully they wouldn't for a long time!

@beatingheart-bride

June subtly glanced Elizabeth's way when she overheard her and Emily's conversation, taking a sip from her own sparkling apple cider as she mulled over these remarks quietly. She didn't want to jump to any conclusions, however (nor give voice to these conclusions either), and settled for setting aside her glass and contentedly leaning her head against her husband's shoulder as Dorian happily regaled the group with stories from his and Randall's youth.

"...I admit, the violin was never my preferred musical instrument," Dorian was saying with an impish grin. "I was good at it, but I just never thought I was destined to become a legendary violin player like my mother expected, and so I was always trying to find a way out of my lessons, and our sprawling garden made for an excellent place to hide. Admittedly, Beau knew it was where I'd go first, since Randall and his mother would be out there, but he'd seldom be too hard on me about it. He knew I didn't like the violin very much, and that I'd rather be outside with my best friend."

"Contributing to the delinquency of one of your own students, Mr. Ghast?" August chuckled as Beau came around to refill both Dorian and August's glasses (the Burke patriarch having decided to be daring enough to have a glass of wine with dinner). Smiling as slyly as the young master, Beau replied, "Only here and there-I knew what Mr. and Mrs. Gracey expected of their son, and so I tried to keep him in the classroom as much as I could, learning the violin, French, cursive, all lessons they wanted me to teach him...but what good was having a young friend on the estate if they couldn't play together?"

"A very good point," August admitted-all work and no play never did a young mind any good, he felt, and so he could get behind Beau allowing his young charge to run free and enjoy his childhood, especially with his grandson. It had to have been a pleasant change of pace for the both of them, given the lives they both led.

"And besides, Dorian didn't need my help in his delinquency," Beau chuckled. "Even before he met Randall, he was always very clever at sneaking out when I had my back turned and taking off down the hall to find some sweets and hole up somewhere I couldn't find him. Between the two of them, Dorian was easily the brains of the operation."

"Guilty as charged!" Dorian grinned, raising his hand as he added, "If anything, Randall did his best to keep us out of trouble, while I was the one trying to make trouble in the first place!"

[bartychaser]

Hey, ehm so, what I’m about to share is really personal and might trigger people who have to fight bullying and mental and/or physical illnesses bc mention of suicidal tendencies.

Idk what exactly it was but (on Pinterest I believe) someone was like “Yeah but why are there people hating on James? He’s so funny and cool with his pranks and Snivellus, just get your shit together” no he is not and I won’t get my “shit” together.

For me personally he triggers self destructive feelings and behaviours that kept building up since SECOND grade (until 10th I believe it was… could also be beginning of 11th) because there where so many ✨funny and cool✨ people who picked their “Snivellus” and spoiler alert it was always me. They pulled so many funny comments and pranks one me that almost cost me my life in the end and they were not done until 10th grade ended. They bullied me with the knowledge that I was ill in some way bc I told them I was seriously and most probably dangerously ill but at that time we didn’t exactly know what it was.

They bullied me for my illness and that illness wasn’t just “being weird randomly” that illness was a fucking brain tumor (luckily not cancer, I’m fine since I had surgery) that caused an epilepsy which is one of a kind.

The most common form of epilepsy is cramps, lying on the floor, looking funny with the drool dribbling down the chin and almost biting off their tongues (yes that can happen… my cousin is badly disabled bc a seizure damaged his brain at 3 months old).

I had a form of epilepsy which my doctors said they’ve never seen before though they were working in that business for over 40 years and they did their research when they heard about me. I was kind of the only person ever known in german medical studies in the last at least 40 years with those form of seizures. And because they were so unique they fucking sent me to a psychiatry because the doctor I’ve been to MULTIPLE TIMES before always said “Nah you’re just mental”. That also was funny enough to pick on me, rubbing in my face that I was a freak and ill and couldn’t do anything about it and I cannot count how many times I’ve prayed to not wake up. Because of people that acted just like James.

I have the right to hate him because in reality I fear him. I fear people like him because getting to have them in my life almost cost me my life and I’m so damn sure they would’ve laughed it off if I one day stopped showing up and my teacher would have stand in front of them crying because he lost the student that reminds him “so much of his sister” (that’s a quote btw) and had to tell them. I’m so afraid of James-like people and therefore I hate him. Not because he is James, James as a character has nothing to do with my past but he was the reason for another’s miserable past if you know what I mean. And every time he is mentioned making fun of Snape or pulling pranks that harm others (mentally or physically) and not only to annoy them bc that actually is funny, I feel those feelings crawling up again and I know it’s not healthy in any way bc he is just a fictional character and that is enough to get me flashbacks but it is what it is so don’t fucking ever try to tell James-dislikers who’ve openly been through similar things that ✨it’s just fun✨. For people in their past it, too, was just fun, for you it might just be fun, but for people who suffered under that fun it’s not. And not a single soul deserves that. There is not one human being who deserves to be picked on/bullied because others want to have some fun.

And no, I don’t mean to hate on James-likers bc yes, in some storys he really is cool and nice and funny and I can understand what you like about him but looking at what is shown to us in books and films he was a fucking prick who loved bullying Severus and making his time at school a part of his life he probably wishes never happened and that triggers my hate-fear if you know what I mean. I’m not trying to say your just like him, making others wanna end them or something, I’m just saying that there often is a sirius reason to dislike a character other than wanting to be different and cool or whatsoever. Sometimes you try to make someone like James with saying things that actually are triggering like “Hahaha it’s fun” Doesn’t mean you can’t try but be careful and always be respectful with trauma which really can be triggered by just one sentence or character.

I know it’s difficult and I do know there are almost no people who communicate/share their trauma just like I did but sometimes people dare doing this bc on social media they can be anonymous just like me. If my former class mates would read this they had no clue it was me. If my brother read this he had no clue it was me, you get my point? But others don’t have that anonymity bc they already published their name/face whatsoever and if anyone they know would see this they would really be fucked. At some point you probably will trigger someone but that inevitably and that’s okay because you can’t see what they’ve been through and you didn’t do it in purpose. But if someone tells you to just leave that topic no matter which topic, there. Is. A. Reason. (Probably) Respect their “no”

P.S. okay that sounds a little aggressive and guilt tripping, I’m sorry but I don’t know how to say that otherwise that was not my intention😭

[littlethingwithfeathers]

I'm grumpy about Silent Hill again...

TW for discussions of suicide, self harm, abuse (both parent to child and amongst peers) and general spookiness. Y'know... the usual Silent Hill rigmarole of trauma and despair. Also be warned that I'm going to spoil a lot of the Silent Hill series, in particular Silent Hill 2 and the Short Message game that just came out. ***

So... one of my most popular posts out there is this one. It's about Pyramid head and the loss of subtlety in media. And I couldn't help but feel like we hadn't moved an inch from when I posted that back in... *checks date on post* hrrk. my bones... 2017. I'm going to die soon. Anyway. Today I watched Second Wind do a run of the short, free-to-play Silent Hill: Short Message. I admittedly had a good bit of trepidation going in just because of the marketing. Which, for all of you marketing majors out there, that is called "Not a good sign." Marketing should make you want to play a game... especially if you're a fan of the series already. But this... it was a bit of a wet blanket, largely due to the fact that it spoiled a lot of the focus of the game. It basically said "this is a game about how bullying and being chronically online is real bad. We're gonna be spooky about it now." And... straining to push aside how incredibly reductive that is... why give it away? Why say it out loud? Why did you tell us what you are doing? Can you imagine Silent Hill 2 if we'd known it was about James killing his wife from the jump? We didn't. We hadn't the first clue. We knew nothing other than that he was looking for her and she was maybe dead? But we didn't know how... possibly lung cancer or TB given that she had the most pointed coughing sequence since the movie Tombstone. And hey... the last game had someone looking for a loved one too. Maybe that's the deal with Silent Hill. Who knows? No one did at that point. It was still a big old mystery for the most part. And then the E3 trailer... like there's the weird pretty lady in jail? But what's she talking about? Who the fuck is Mary? Is that... his wife? Well then who the hell is Ms. Miniskirt? No wait... is that his wife in the VHS tape? What the hell is going on? Oh look gameplay! And... a little girl? And a weird guy with a gun... This soundtrack slaps. I'm gonna go see if it's up on Napster yet. (this was 2001... again... my bones etc) I remember combing over low-res copies of that video for HOURS when it came out. Why are the nurses different? It's not snowing? Who are all these people... And why do they all sound like they put ketamine in their coffee. It was like a great big puzzle to work out and we had a ball theorizing and researching so when it came out we were HYPE. And that was largely because in short... we knew SOME things at release. Fog. Nurses. Big stick. Weird people. Banger soundtrack. Dead (but probably not) wife. And we presumed or supposed more... cult activity? New beasties? Radio maybe? But we effectively knew nothing about the plot. And the best part was, while they had a solid hook (Find dead lady who we love so huggy buggy much) and instant intrigue (Angela in the cemetery being weirder than a film by David Lynch), and a very familiar setting (we may have improved draw distance on the PS2, but we don't have to use it!), we still didn't really know what was going on. The plot was essentially unfolding out of a black box. Silent Hill 2 was quite content to be a slower burn than trying to boil the Lake Superior with a signal flare. You don't even see the main "villain" Pyramid Head until a few hours in and, as I pointed out in that other post, there's no flashy cut scene to introduce him and go WOOOOOO SCARYYYYY. He's just chillin' behind some prison bars (which that totes is normal in an apartment complex) and staring at you like I stare at the inside of my fridge when I really would like some cheese to materialize.

And then... like we're not even really sure what the hell is going on for the longest time. We meet our wife's hot twin with the key to a strip club and she keeps getting killed over and over... and things keep getting increasingly rapey and lewd in a way that's just uncomfortable more than anything... But even at the end. Even with the big reveal of "You killed your wife." they still don't ever explicitly state "And you killed her because you couldn't have sex with her anymore." It wasn't until you finished the game, and talked to someone else about it, or let your brain cook on it for a bit that you went... heyyyy... he's a horndog! (In fact... if I'm going to chide SH2 for anything it's that right at the very VERY end they tried to frame James's actions as understandable because the woman who was dying and frightened and in pain was mean to him. Yes, being a caretaker is hard. But Christ... pick a topic for discussion.) But contrast all that with Short Message. The marketing and such all said out loud "THIS IS ABOUT BULLYING" so even going in... I was already like "yep. The bully is probably us, but we had reasons because we have to be complicated and you aren't allowed to make the player feel bad" And lo was I correct. There was no... intrigue. I was never curious about the character or the people around her because I knew this story. They already told me what story they were telling so I could practically sing along, especially as a millennial that had to grow up watching little videos and skits in school about the evils of bullying. And when you are going to tell a trope-ish story, and you tell the audience what the trope is, it becomes "say the line" writ large. This isn't me advocating for super twisty unexpected plot arcs (looking at you, Supernatural). Far from it. You absolutely should tell a story in such a way that the audience understands how you got from point A to point Z, even if there are some surprises along the way (See Sixth Sense for that masterclass). Rather, what I'm missing from this (and frankly a lot of the Silent Hill games and honestly... media in general these days) is a sense of restraint. A sense of trust in their audience to "get it." They can't just plonk us in the fog with a radio and a stick and say "You're here to find your best friend/dog/cousin/wife/business partner. Good luck. Here's a weirdo to prattle cryptically at you in order to unsettle you immediately. Bye!" No! They have to tell us what kind of story they're telling and what themes are important. They can't just... give us a Silent Hill Game and trust that we know what to do with it. It's... insulting frankly. Especially as a longtime fan of the franchise who remembers when they did trust us and they did have faith in their work. I will say this in compliment to Short Message. The environment design was pretty cool. Especially the sticky-note hallways... they looked like leaves... and sometimes teeth... and like tightly packed bones in an ossuary. It didn't... say anything really. But it looked cool. And you can't go wrong with Akira Yamaoka's soundtrack. But... while I'm on the subject of design. Y'all. An animate sakura tree in an oversized hoodie is not scary. But bless you for at least having the restraint to not make her Pyramid Head.

[compacflt]

When it comes to historical research, do you research for things that DON'T exist? For example, foods that are common now but didn't exist in the average American restaurant or grocery in the '80s or '90's? Words, phrases, and entire concepts that are commonly accepted today but unheard of to the average American when Mav and Ice were at Top Gun?

Your writing is so unbelievably good.

not really because I don't care about food, I care about the literary device that is "taking communion." i.e. it doesn't matter what they eat, it only matters that they're eating together, for the plot.

And, okay, showing my little-kid bias, but was there actually stuff in grocery stores in the 80s/90s that wouldn't be there today/vice versa? brands might change, like okay Pringles might not exist but you still have potato chips; and obviously specialty stuff like what you find in your average Asian market might not be commonplace, but, like, were the 90s all that different from today, American-food-wise? its my assumption that they weren't, but I also wasn't alive in the 90s, so. Um, ectocooler Hi-C, maybe? that's the one 90s food I know.

attitudes of course are what change. today's concept of being so QUICK to publicly label sexual identities would be extremely foreign, for instance. obviously people did label their sexualities in the 80s & 90s, people were definitely calling themselves bisexual and such, but probably not the people ice & mav would be hanging out with, in the Reagan-era navy. which is what my fics are about. that's the whole point.

and, also, COMMUNICATION changes. I have never used a payphone in my whole life so I actually have no idea how they work. but they were ubiquitous "back then," and lend themselves to amazingly interesting conflict (omg I don't have enough change to call my boyfriend maverick who's mad at me!!!) which is why I lean on payphones so much in my writing. honestly, im gonna be real, the invention of the cell phone makes telling stories about miscommunication so much harder. instant-speed communication would make certain stories less interesting, which is why a lot of horror movies default to the "no cell service" trope to isolate their characters, or why some teen dramas have the characters reject cell phones on principle (Alyssa or James having a phone in 2017's "The End of the F***ing World" would solve most of their problems, which is why Alyssa smashes hers in the first five minutes and James basically says he views them as a cancer to society--if they had phones the story would be boring, so the writers took away their phones).

I also feel like people used to treat society differently "back then," i.e. Going Out was much more of a thing when there were 10 channels on TV and no one had cell phones, so you Went Out and had drinks & met strangers & interacted with general society to an extent im not sure we do anymore. So that experience is way more fun to write about in the 80s than today. (u can't see me but im seething with jealousy over ppl who were born in ~1965)

idk. im not sure I did a great job reproducing the zeitgeist of the 80s/90s in my fics, bc I wasn't there to have knowledge of what they were like. I got most of my presupposed knowledge about that time period from reading Calvin & Hobbes anthologies as a kid. oh well.

[zerogate]

"Men were designed for short, nasty, brutal lives. Women are designed for long, miserable ones." -- Dr. Estelle Ramey

Male expendability starts in the womb. The egg of the female inches in solitary splendor down the fallopian tube, inviting impregnation. It has no competition. On the other hand, the sperm—the male’s contribution to procreation—vigorously swim the lengthy course up the vagina and uterus, beating their long, thin tails in an effort to outrace the millions of their brothers headed for that solitary egg. Only a single spermatozoon—one literally “chosen” by the ovum—manages to finally penetrate the egg’s outer membrane and achieve the grand prize of impregnation. The losers die.

But that is merely a preview of the casual manner in which Nature tosses male lives away. Male fetuses are the primary victims of natural abortions, miscarriages, and stillbirths. When times are tough, Nature shows her preference by hiking the rates of spontaneous abortion for males to higher than normal but continuing her tendency to preserve her embryonic daughters. As James V. Neel of the University of Washington says, for males “in utero it’s a jungle.”

Things don’t get any better after birth. In their first few years of life, male babies have a higher death rate than their sisters. Then the nasty habits built into the male genes begin to take their toll. Even in a nice, civilized spot like Alameda, California, where researchers performed a longitudinal study of five thousand adults, males were nearly four times more likely to lose their lives to homicide than females. And they were twice as likely to be accident victims. Their own aggression and bravado did them in.

But cockiness is not the only thing that mows men down. They are twice as likely to be victims of lung cancer, suicide, pulmonary disease, cirrhosis, and heart disease. The immune systems of females work far more efficiently than those of males. How can you encourage the male immune apparatus to function at a higher level? There is a way, but I wouldn’t recommend it: castration. The single trick that kicks the male defensive system into higher gear is the elimination of maleness.

[...]

One result of these myriad handicaps: in every industrialized country, women live four to ten years longer than men. But why does Nature treat the lives of males with such abandon? The reasons are simple. If you did away with the vast majority of men on the planet but preserved the women, you would scarcely even dent our species’ reproductive capabilities. One man kept around as a stud could easily provide a hundred women with the wherewithal to become pregnant whenever they pleased. Every nine months a one-man, one-hundred-woman collective could produce a hundred babies.

Just how disposable males are becomes obvious in the light of statistics revealed by anthropologists William Divale and Marvin Harris in 1976. The pair scrutinized data from 561 primitive social groups. They found that societies constantly engaged in war are very selective about the babies they allow to live. They want boys—male children who can grow up to be warriors—so they weed out the female infants, killing them outright or undernourishing and overworking them. The result is that they end up with 128 male children for every 100 females. So far, it sounds like the males have made out quite well. But when the “treasured’ ‘ young boys pass the age of fifteen, their fate becomes less rosy. They are sent off to war. And there, they die. On the average, 28 out of every 128 never make it to maturity. Their lives are simply tossed away.

-- Howard Bloom, The Lucifer Principle: A Scientific Expedition into the Forces of History

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 8

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ROLLING IN THE DEEP - ADELE

“Miss Ivonne Rainer.” A dude with black hair and green eyes stepped into the room, holding a case file. He was around my age, well built, and judging by the confidence, high up in the precinct. He was also, now that I mention it, sexy. “You’ve got a very chequered past, by the looks of it.” 

“I’m not playing chess, mate, so just cut to the chase.” I retorted, tapping my watch. “You’ve got 48 hours, so why not tell me your name so we can move things a bit quicker?”

”Detective Sergeant James Rhodes.” He showed me his badge. 

“Where’s the bad cop, eh?”

”With Dean Winchester. Good cop’s with Sam, and the even worse cop is with you.”

”I feel special. Flattered.” I smiled sarcastically. “Why are you holding us?”

”Your buddy Dean is being held on charges for suspicion of murder.” 

I frowned, leaning forward. “Murder?!”

”You sound genuinely surprised. You should’ve gone to acting school.”

”Who could he have murdered?” 

“We’re getting onto that.” He replied, opening a file and giving me a once over with a hint of red on his cheeks. I smirked a little, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s just look through your file first. I’ve got a lot of research on you, Ivonne. You’re 27, born in ‘79 in Jersey to Michael Rainer and Audrey Rainer neé Singer. You went to a good primary, got a score of 174 on your LSATs, an almost perfect score on your SATs and scored a full ride to Princeton on the course of economics while trying to help your younger sister Quinn battle cancer, which ultimately failed.” I gritted my teeth. “But, here’s the catch. One year after your admission, you were forced to drop out due to your father’s untimely death, a murder which was never solved. Do you want me to continue?” 

I stayed silent. 

“Tough crowd. About a month after your father’s death, you were the centre of an open and shut case eight years ago in which your brother Carter descended into insanity and killed your family by sticking knives into their throats, and also killed your mother’s unborn child. However, in defence, you shot him after he tried to do the same to you. You were proven innocent after a CCTV recording placed Carter as the killer of your sister Lily and your mother. You went off the grid, but then conveniently seven or eight years later, you were kidnapped by your boyfriend Xavier Jackson, but you broke free, wrestled for his gun and shot him twice, killing him. Your witness? Sam Winchester.” 

“You done relating my life story?” I scoffed. “I’ll admit it, you’re cute and this macho, intimidation act is as well, but if you’re aiming to take me out to dinner after this, you’re gonna have to take a step back and reassess the situation.” He looked taken aback, and I nodded. “I’ve met people like you before, Serge, and I know exactly how to deal with them.” 

“We’re here to discuss Dean Winchester.”

”And so far all you’ve done is relate something that isn’t important and check me out.” I smirked. “Get on with it, will you?”

”Why I listed every bit of your family history is because one thing doesn’t add up.” He put down the file. “How you ended up with the Winchester brothers. You have no connection to them. Your family had no contact with the Winchesters. So how did you end up with a man who’s charged with assault, murder and grave desecration and his brother?” 

“I found them.” I frowned, pulling out my dad’s journal. “Read about John, Sam and Dean Winchester, knew I had to find ‘em. I had a stalker after me. Not anymore, but Dad’s journal knew that they could help me and they did.”

”What about Tony and Karen Giles?”

”Anthony Giles was a friend of John Winchester.” I explained. “I went with Sam and Dean once they found out that he was dead, throat slit with no trace of any bad things happening in Giles’ life to make him do such a thing.”

“There you go.” Sam gave Dean and I a cup of coffee while Dean handed Sam a paper while I dried my hair with a t-shirt. I was wearing a baggy black cashmere jumper with jeans, my necklace around my neck as usual.

“Anthony Giles.” Dean stated. 

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” I asked, leaning in with my hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“He’s a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” 

I read the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Room was clean, throat was slit… but no DNA or prints.”

”Keep reading. It gets better.” 

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Sam muttered. 

“So either someone tampered with the tapes, or…” 

“There’s an invisible killer.” 

“My favorite kind. What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?” 

“I’m not Scully. You’re Scully.” 

“No, I'm Mulder. You're a red-headed woman.” 

“You two are idiots, more like.” I sighed. “Let me dry my hair, then we’ll head out.” 

“C’mon, Beanie,” Dean laughed, “you look good with wet hair.” 

“Then again, it doesn’t feel great in cold air.” I winked. “Maybe next time.” I rifled through my box of IDs, buying my lip. “Who are we today?” 

“Insurance investigators.” 

“I’ll get my suit from the Mustang.” 

“But, if you think about it, Dean couldn’t have murdered Tony, being at my house, right?” I asked. 

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened next.” 

“We went to see Karen, to help her keep herself together. And boy, she was fallin’ apart.” 

Karen Giles sat on her sofa, sniffling and wiping her nose on a tissue. “Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.” She whispered, holding back the fifth wave of tears. 

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam pressed on, and she nodded. I forgot to mention, we were insurance investigators. 

“Sure.” 

“So, if you could tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.” I asked, sitting down next to her. 

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.” Karen recounted, and I nodded. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” 

“No, like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

”Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked. 

“Unusual…” 

“Yeah, like… strange?” 

“Strange?” 

“Y’know, like… weird noises, visions-“ I cleared my throat, stopping Dean. 

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” She whispered, and Carl wrote it down on my flip notebook, and I was loosely holding the pen to give an impression that I was writing and not a magic pen. 

“What kind of a nightmare?” Sam frowned. 

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.” 

“Did he say what she looked like?” Dean asked. 

“What the hell difference does it make of what she looked like?!” 

“Our company’s thorough, Mrs Giles.” I smiled, stepping in to save Dean’s butt. Again. “We’d like to get a detailed description of the days prior to the incident so then we can make a good analysis. As many details as you can spare, if that’s ok.” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, calming down, while Carl wrote down ‘good job’ on the paper. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.” 

“Thank you for your time.” I gave Karen a side hug, giving her my fake calling card, but had my burner phone number. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“I told Karen to call me if she had any problems and then we set off.” 

“Doesn’t explain why you broke into Anthony Giles’ office.” He persisted.

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. She gave us the key. It wasn’t a break in.” 

“Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” Sam gestured. 

“Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was showing.” I read out, sitting at the computer. 

Dean whistled. “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” 

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.” Sam shrugged. I found something at the printer, whipping it out. 

“Take a look at this.” I showed it to them. It had the word/thing ‘danashulps’ written all over it. “Dana Shulps.” 

“A name?” 

“A name that’s everywhere.” Dean chuckled. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 

Sam checked the desk, shining his torch down. Then he breathed on it, revealing the word Dana Shulps. “Well, I think we’ve crossed over to a whole new level of weird.” 

“Tell me about it.” I typed quickly, trying to crack the password to Giles’ computer.

”Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested. 

“Or it’s the name of our red-eyed mystery girl.” Sam shrugged. We went through available files, I scoured the internet, hacked into police databases, but… 

“Nada.” I grimaced. “No girl name Dana Shulps ever died a horrible death or even existed. The surname Shulps isn’t even a name.” 

“So what now?” Dean groaned. 

“I’m a few clicks away from unlocking Giles’ laptop.” I clicked my tongue. “There could be something in his personal files.” 

“How long?” Sam asked. 

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Carl, lend a nib.” Carl started helping, while I counted down the seconds until-

There we go.

“Seriously?” Sam sighed.

 Dean’s fart noises.

”Your story checks out.” Rhodes nodded, closing the case. “But fact remains that Dean was found at Karen Giles’ murder scene.”

”Fact remains that Dean Winchester saved my life.” I frowned. “On multiple occasions, won’t specify which, and if that warrants anything, it warrants a hell lot of respect and favours. Come on, Serge. You’re smart, it’s obvious. You’re probably the type of guy to take one look at who you’re dealing with and say whether they’re guilty or not. And you’ve taken a long, hard look at Dean. At me, maybe even Sam. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think any of us are guilty?”

”No.” Rhodes admitted. “Facts don’t add up. Dean wasn’t holding a weapon when they found him. He wasn’t present at the murder of Tony Giles. No prints, no DNA, just him conveniently at the scene. But I’ve got nothing else to work with, unless something else is at play here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because a murder isn’t that clean cut.” 

“What if it was something else?” I shrugged. 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“At the crime scene, we found two words written over and over. Dana Shulps.” I showed him the printed paper. “Help me figure out what this means. If you find Dean guilty after this, go ahead, arrest him, put him on trial and get him in prison with a lifer, but for now, consider the fact that he’s innocent.”  

James sighed, conceding. “Fine, but it has to look like I’m interrogating you.” 

“Not so much of an even worse cop, huh?” 

“I bend to reason. Now, Dana.” I wrote down the name, staring at it. 

“Best thing I’ve got is an anagram.” I shrugged, tapping a pen on the table. 

“Scramble it, then?” We both wrote down the words in different ways, switching things up, thinking, until I got something. 

“Ashland sound familiar?” I asked, and he nodded. 

“Ashland’s a street name.” A woman knocked and walked in, and she looked to be in her late forties. Her badge read ‘D. Ballard.’ 

“Detective Ballard.” Rhodes’ demeanour switched up, turning to Ballard with a smug air. Wow, that was quick. Smoother than butter. “How’re things going with Sam Winchester?” 

“Story matches Dean’s. How about Rainer?” Ballard replied. 

“We’re getting somewhere.” He smirked, glancing back at me. “Miss Rainer and I were having an intense heart to heart, but story still matches the other two’s. Though, I have to say, tough customer. Not sure Pete would be able to keep his cool for long if he had her.” 

“I doubt it too.” She nodded. “Keep at it, we can only hold ‘em for 48 hours.” She left, and Rhodes switched again, turning back to me with an easy smile. 

“How’d I do?” 

“You lie almost as well as I do.” I grinned. “Am I turning a good boy soft?” 

“Cut the bad girl act, Rainer.” Rhodes chuckled. “Yeah, I have to admit, I was checking you out, but I can look through a guise if I see one.” 

“Again, flattered.” 

“You’re a hard case to crack, aren’t you?” 

“I like to give people a challenge.” I wrote on the paper. “Get this to Dean and Sam, any way you can without being spotted. They need to know.” 

He took the paper, standing up. “I hope to God that you’re right, Rainer.” He left, leaving me to contemplate all my life decisions.

”Trust me, I hope so too.” I sighed.

Rhodes came into my room later, looking grim.  “I got you a ticket out, but Dean’s decided to confess. You might wanna come watch.” 

“Confess to what, though?” I asked, picking up my leather jacket and putting it on. 

“That’s what I wanna find out.” We went into the interrogation room, where they were setting up a camera. 

“Beanie.” Dean grinned upon seeing me. “Are you ok?”

”I’m doing fine.” I nodded.

”Your boyfriend decided to confess, sweetheart.” One detective smirked. “Speak directly to the camera, and state your name for the record.” 

Dean faced the camera, a smug smirk on his face. Wait, I know what he’s going to do. “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius.” Here we go. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

”Excuse me?” Ballard scoffed. 

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?” Dean shrugged. “Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant ass.” Detective Sheridan hissed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

”I’m not joking, Ponch.”

”You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!” 

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.” Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming him against the wall. I was going to step in when Rhodes held me back, other officers jumping in to help.

”Pete!” Ballard gasped. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rhodes yelled, stopping everyone. “I’ll cuff him myself, just go return to your jobs. Rainer, you stay with me.” Everyone left, leaving Dean, Rhodes and I alone. 

“Well done, you locked me up.” Dean grimaced as he looked down at the cuffs now around his wrists.  “Whatcha gonna do, gloat?”

”Ask you two if this Casper thing is real.” The answer took Dean aback, and he blinked at Rhodes, wondering why. “I talked to Rainer. The facts don’t add up, and a spirit seems most obvious when it comes to a murder with no prints or DNA.” 

“Beanie, you sly fox.” He chuckled.  “She can talk her way out of anything.”

”Long story short, yeah, it is.” I nodded. “Shifter is real too, all of the likes of it are.”

”So, Ashland?”

“Street name.” Rhodes nodded.  “Why this spirit is trying to tell us that, I’m not sure.”

”The girl died there.” Ballard stepped in, and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to speak. “Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.” 

“I want to know more about the stuff you were talking about earlier.” She gulped. 

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

”Let’s pretend for a moment that you aren’t entirely insane.” 

“Mhmm.”

”What would one of these things be doing here?”

”A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.” 

I noticed something on Rhodes’ wrist, and I took out, pushing up his sleeve. 

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

”These weren’t there before.” He gulped, looking freaked. Ballard pulled up her sleeve too, showing the bruises. 

“You two saw it, didn’t you?” Dean frowned. 

“How did you know?” Ballard gasped. 

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I... I don't know what.” He paused, staring at Ballard’s stunned expression as she turned away. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?” 

“You think we’re going to die.” Rhodes breathed. 

“You need to find Sam.” Dean urged. “He can help, and so can Ivonne.”

”You’re giving up your brother.” Ballard stammered. 

“Go with Beanie. She’ll find Sam and they can help figure this out. You can arrest him if you want, or you can let him help you.” 

“Lead the way, Rainer.” Rhodes agreed, and I immediately walked out of the door, both of them following.

I knocked on Sam’s door at the motel. “Jim Rockford? It’s Tabitha from room service.” Sam opened it immediately, spotting the two behind us. “They saw it. This is James Rhodes and you know Detective Ballard.”

”Get in.” We all got inside, and Sam hugged me before turning to the other two, holding their wrists. “These showed up after you saw it?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded. 

“You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. I should be arresting you.” Ballard shakily told us, but we shared a look. 

“Fine. Arrest Sam, then.” I shrugged. “After we save your life. For now, just trust us to do this, ok?” 

“She’s right, Diana.” Rhodes vouched, and she conceded. I gave him a thankful smile, pulling out Sam’s folder of crime scene photos and booking photos. 

“Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?” 

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood.” Diana stammered. 

“Alright.” I showed them the photos. “I’m gonna flick through these one by one, and you’re gonna tell me if you recognise her.” I went through the photos one by one, and then Rhodes cleared his throat when I stopped at one. 

“That’s her.” He nodded. 

“Yeah.” Diana agreed. 

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.” Sam frowned. 

“But we don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after us?” 

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” 

“Pete, Diana and I did.” Rhodes gulped. 

“Did you bust her? Any of you?” I asked. 

“I did, but I got her a shorter sentence than she was going to get.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.” 

“What?” Diana coughed.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Sam explained.

”Of course it is.” 

“You guys go and have a glass of water. Keep an eye on each other. Ivy and I need to talk.” The other two went into the room behind us so Sam and I could have a chat.  

“Rhodes seems to be taking it well.” I smiled. “Ballard, not so much.” 

“I think Rhodes is taking it well cause of you.” Sam smirked, and laughed when I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see the sparks. Dean would’ve already commented on it.” 

“He’s a man of the law.” I sighed. “I have more fake IDs than I’ve had birthdays.” 

“Maybe that’s the danger of it. Forbidden love-“ I slapped him across the head with a piece of paper. “Ow, okay, okay!” 

“You better not mention to this to Dean.” 

“I think he knows.”

We walked into an abandoned warehouse, my gun drawn just in case. 

“A firearm?” Rhodes scoffed.

“It’s licensed, so untwist your boxers.” I smirked. 

“So what exactly are we looking for?” 

“We’ll let you know once we find it.” Sam informed, then we split up, searching for a possible place to hide a body. I scaled the wall, knocking on it to try and find a bit of hollow wall that I could bust open-

“Sam!” I heard Diana yell, sounding scared. “Sam! James! IVONNE!” All three of us came running back, and we found Diana alone. 

“What happened?” I asked. “Did you see Claire?” 

“She, she was here.” 

“Did she attack you?” Sam questioned, looking around. 

“No, she was just… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.“ There was a shelf blocking the window, so Sam and Rhodes got to work and moved it, revealing the word ‘ASHLAND SUP’. 

“I’m guessing the SUP started the word supplies.” I grinned, then followed the reflection to a wall on the other side. “Sam, did you bring the sledgehammer?” Sam held it up, so I took it and started cracking a hole the wall. I peered in, and nodded. “Yep. There’s something here.” Sam joined me and helped me tear the rest of the wall open, revealing Claire Becker’s body.

“God.” Rhodes breathed. 

“Something about this is bothering me.” Sam frowned. 

“You’re digging up a corpse.” Diana pointed out. 

“Digging them up is pretty par for the course. But why would a vengeful spirit lead us to her corpse?” We bent down to take a look, and Diana reached out, touching the necklace. 

“Does it mean something to you?” I asked. 

“That necklace. It’s rare, custom made on Carson Street.” She pulled out the same one from her neckline. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.” 

“Now this all makes perfect sense.” Sam nodded, piecing it all together. 

“What does?” Rhodes frowned. “Apart from Pete killing Claire.” 

“Claire’s not a vengeful spirit, she’s a death omen.” I explained. “She’s not killing people, she’s warning them that they’ll die by the same hand she did. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.“ 

“Detective, how much do you know about your partner?” Sam asked. 

“Oh my god.” Diana gasped. 

“What?” 

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.” 

“Someone like a heroin dealer. Someone like Claire.” 

“I’m going to make a phone call, find out where Dean is.” Rhodes stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to another corner. “If we’re right, he could be next.” 

“Did you bring the Mustang?” Sam asked me, and I held up my keys. 

“Yeah.” I nodded, then turned to Claire’s body. “We’ll catch him.” 

Rhodes came back, looking freaked again. “Pete just left with Dean. Said he had to be transferred and just took off. He’s not answering the radio, either.” 

“We need to cut him off.” I grimaced, cocking my gun. “He’s in a county vehicle, so we need to access the lo-jack and find the route. Let’s go!”

I was driving with my pedal to the metal, with Diana and Sam in the back and Rhodes at the front with me. 

“Tell me.” Rhodes turned to me with a smile. “How does a girl like you end up in a job like yours?” 

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re smart, quick on your feet, obviously good with a gun. You got almost perfect scores on your LSAT and SAT, got into Princeton, practically a shoo in almost anywhere. You could’ve been great on the force, instead you’re hunting the impossible.” 

“Hunting the impossible seems like a better option, in my opinion.” We reached the GPS location of the county vehicle, appearing behind Sheridan just as he was about to kill Dean. 

“Pete!” Diana yelled. “Put the gun down!”

”Diana?” Sheridan gasped. “How'd you find me?” 

“I know about Claire.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Put the gun down!” 

“Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.” 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. 

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan lied, while I flicked down the safety pin on my gun. 

“It’s a little bit late for that.” 

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.” 

“You had a choice, Pete.” Rhodes frowned. “Instead you killed an innocent woman. Then why Tony and Karen?” 

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.” He reasoned. “It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.”

“How many more people are going to die over this, Pete?” 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.” 

“Hey!” Dean barked, but backed away when the gun was turned on him. I rolled my eyes, ready to pounce, but with a gun trained on Dean it wouldn’t be wise.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.” I gave Diana a look, but she put her gun down. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sheridan turned to Dean, but then Diana quickly picked up her gun, shooting Pete in the stomach and making him fall, giving Dean time to roll out of the way. 

“Then why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass?!” She hissed, before she was tackled herself, and Sheridan got up, instantly going for the gun, facing off Rhodes and Sam. However, Claire showed up behind Sheridan, making him turn around and gasp in horror as she smiled, giving me time to pull the trigger and shoot him in the back. He fell to the floor, more permanently this time, and Claire gave me a nod before disappearing. 

“Hell of a shot.” Rhodes breathed, glancing to me. 

“Thanks.” I smiled. We gave Diana time to mourn her partner, then she came back to us. 

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“No, not really. The death omen Claire, what happens to her now?” 

“Should be over. She should be at rest.” 

“So, what now, officers?” Dean asked. 

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.” Rhodes explained. 

“You’d take care of that?” I smiled. 

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.” 

“You sure?” Sam blinked. 

“Yeah, they’re sure, Sam.” Dean urged. 

“No, I mean, you could lose your jobs over that.” 

“Look, we just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” Diana sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for the three of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.” 

“Do you know where my car is by any chance?” Dean asked. 

“It’s in an impound lot on Robertson’s.” She gave Dean a look. “No. You’re not stealing it.” 

“Of course not.” I smiled, patting the boys on the shoulder. “We’ve got my Mustang, and we’ll improvise. We’re good at that.” 

“Clearly.” Rhodes grinned, and Dean and Sam shared a look. 

“We’ll meet you at the car.” Dean smirked, dragging Sam with him. Diana had slipped off, leaving me and Rhodes. 

“This’ll be one heck of a story to tell.” 

“I bet.” I laughed, storing my gun in my arm holster. “Just leave out the part of the death omen and people won’t call you insane.” 

“That sounds best.” He chuckled. “You’re a really hard case, Rainer, you know that, right?” 

“I’ve heard. Well, I’ve better get going.” I smiled, then pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I stared at them, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I have my keys. If I have them, how are the boys in the-“ My focus was thrown off course by a pair of lips on mine, an arm wrapping around my waist. I dropped my keys because of the impact, forgetting about them and cupping the nape of his neck, the other arm hanging loosely around it. I could feel his smile, tilting his head-

“HAUN HAUN! YOU GOT THE GIRL, OUI OUI?!” I pulled away, turning to where Dean was. 

“DEAN WINCHESTER, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” I yelled, then stepped back from Rhodes. “Sorry about them.” 

“Nah, you’re good.” He picked up my keys and gave them to me, kissing me again quickly and then my hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to forget you, Rainer.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Serge, nobody can forget me.” I handed him a note with my burner cell number. “Call me sometime. If I don’t pick up, I’m hunting another demon. And, uh, call me Ivy.” 

“Then call me James.” He took the note, pocketing it. “I’ll lead the cops off your trail. Just go, and don’t die, cause those two will need your help. You’re a smooth talker.” 

“I guess that solves the mystery of why I joined them in the first place.” I smiled. “See you around, James.” 

“You too, Ivy.” I walked back to the Mustang, unlocking it and getting in. 

“You boys are idiots.” 

“I like him the best.” Dean smirked. “Cool dude.” 

“Yeah, we love a rogue officer.” Sam teased. 

“Shut up, you two.” I groaned, flooring it and waving goodbye out of the window to James, who was watching me leave. 

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[lostsoulincssea]

You single-handedly transformed Hob's Bay. All I'll say is I saw the potential in things others didn't. Well, that seems to be true of every investment of yours. I've been very fortunate. Except with your hospital. According to the records you provided my wife, um... yeah, you've invested millions into cancer research, but to date, you haven't made a cent. Your point? Every investment you've ever made has been profitable, except for this one. I'm saving my people. I don't need to profit from illness. Especially cancer. Especially cancer. This disease is important to you? People in Hob's Bay are developing cancer at disproportionate rates. Did your wife show you those records? She did. She also told me about Henry Miller and James Distefano... More accusations. Two criminals who have been experimented on. Were they also part of your research? Because if they were, it certainly makes me wonder, Mr. Mannheim...  — Superman and Lois 3x07 "Forever and Always" 

[facts-i-just-made-up]

do you have any interesting facts about crabs?

The crab is one of nature's most spectacular yet enigmatic creatures. It has a rich history across the waters and beaches of Earth that goes all the way back to the Jurassic era, and is likely to continue well into the coming eons.

The earliest known crab is "Eocarcinus." Though many mistake this term for a species, it is in fact the given name of the first crab. Eocarcinus was born to James and Jennifer O'Decapod in 200,000,004 B.C.E. Expected to pursue a career in bottom-feeding, Eocarcinus instead decided to found the field of Cancer research. As no medical field existed at the time, Cancer referred strictly to the astrological variety. Eocarcinus first discovered the Crab Nebula, the Crab Pulsar, the Crab Quasar, and the Crab Galaxy.

Crabs following in Eocarcinus's footsteps, of which he had many owing to his numerous crab legs, have made incalculable contributions to both evolution and culinary arts.

As humankind developed, crabs attained a new status as "delicious." Humans ate every known type of crab, from the soft-shell crab, to the hard-shell crab, to the unix-shell crab, which I tried to come up with a joke for but couldn't even begin to understand what the hell this interface crap means in order to even make a pun. Interface like uh, enter-face because you eat it? I dunno I'm not a programmer.

Anyhow, the modern crab canon (cranon) consists of several thousand distinct species with their own unique life cycles, dimorphisms, and flavors. From the colossal coconut crab to the tiny pubic hair crab, to the exotic hairy crabs of the East Asian coasts to the festive cheerleader crab of American high school gym pools, the crab is enjoying a cultural renaissance as it has become synonymous with the death of colonial racist jerks, and various other memes.

This thrills the crab.

[morganablack]

HEAR ME OUT

ASSASIN SIRIUS AND DOCTOR REMUS!!!!

Sirius being an assassin and thief, stealing information and selling it on the black market.

Remus being a researcher with a cool project, idk, cells regenerating or curing cancer, anyway you get the point.

AND

One day Sirius is stealing some codes and when he is trying to leave the building, he is mistaken for an inter by Peter and dragged into Remus lab. WHERE HE MEETS REMUS.

I have a soft spot for grumpy Remus, so he is a grumpy doctor that drinks way too much coffee.

Sirius being like “I will go with it now cause I’m curious where this is going”

So he starts working at the lab with Remus, doing good for the first time in his life.

Peter being Remus assistant and James working in the FBI to catch Sirius ( there is room for Jegulus with FBI agent James and criminal Regulus 👀)

BONUS

Remus slowly falling in love and seeing the cracks in Sirius story, so he starts looking up his diploma, his background and coming up empty = heavy angst 👀

Regulus coming to drag Sirius back into his old life because Sirius isn’t allowed to stay in one place too long, but he’s already in love with Remus = even more angst 👀👀

Walburga hunting Sirius down and hurting Remus in the process = 100% pure angst 👀👀👀

[girlactionfigure]

Rosalind Franklin, chemist and DNA crystallographer.

Rosalind Franklin (1920-1958) has been called “the unsung hero of the double helix” after she failed to win recognition for her work in discovering the double-helix DNA.

Rosalind was born in London to a wealthy Jewish family. She studied chemistry at Cambridge University. She then went on to study the structures of carbon in coal, and later, viruses in plants and animals. In the 1940s, she studied plant viruses that blighted important agricultural crops, including the potato, turnip, tomato and pea. In 1957, she conducted research into the virus that causes polio.

In 1953, she made the most important discovery in her career. Using x-ray equipment and a micro-camera, Franklin photographed and analyzed samples of DNA. In May 1952, Franklin and a graduate student took a ground-breaking photo, labelled #51, which unequivocally provided the first clear image of DNA and its helical pattern.

Franklin’s research results had been passed to fellow scientists James Crick and Francis Watson without her knowledge or permission. Her photo, and her precise analysis of the x-ray diffraction data inspired Crick and Watson to reject their initial idea of a three-helix molecule and make the necessary calculations to develop the double helix model of the DNA strand we now know. Without Franklin, there likely would have been no global recognition for Watson and Crick and no Nobel Prize.

Crick and Watson were awarded the Nobel Prize in 1962. Franklin had already died of ovarian cancer in 1957 at the tragically young age of 37. When Crick and Watson were given their prize they not only did not acknowledge Franklin’s contribution to their work, they never even mentioned her name in any of their publications.

Franklin may not have been recognized during her lifetime, but years later, Watson and Crick did eventually acknowledge her contributions. In a book published in 1968, “The Double Helix” Watson wrote, “The instant I saw the picture my mouth fell open and my pulse began to race. The black cross of reflections which dominated the picture could only arise from a helical structure.”

There is now a Rosalind Franklin University of Medicine and Science in Chicago, which was originally founded in 1912 as the Chicago Hospital-College of Medicine, and was renamed after Franklin in 2004. Franklin has also become greater known among the general public, and was placed fifth in the 2018 BBC History Magazine poll of the world’s most influential women.

Finally, years after her death, Rosalind Franklin, whose work was instrumental in unlocking the structure of DNA, is receiving the recognition she deserved for so long.

Historical Photos of Women's Stories