#oncology courses

[diginerve]

Pediatric Hematology-Oncology: Advances in Childhood Cancer Treatment

With time, many recent advances and developments have been made in Pediatric Hematology and oncology. Students often are short of time to track such recent findings, which can prevent them from becoming the best medical professionals. 

If we look at this branch of MD, we can see that many new ways of treating cancer have entered the field. All of these help children battle cancer easily. To make you aware of such recent developments, we are writing this blog post. 

Therefore, as a postgraduate, you must be aware of what is currently happening in the field of Pediatric Oncology. 

Latest advances in treating childhood cancer treatment

Over the last few decades, there have been many advances made in the field of Pediatrics and Hematology, which are discussed below:

CAR T Cell Therapy:

If you want to know about how to prevent childhood cancer with the newest and most personalized treatment, then CAR T Cell Therapy has all your answers. This Chimeric Antigen Receptor (CAR) T Cell Therapy is for kids who get leukemia back even after treatment. 

Radiation therapy:

Although Radiation therapy is another childhood cancer treatment, yet again, it is the talk of the town because newer and more precise ways of delivering radiation are being developed. In this therapy, cancer cells are destroyed with the help of high-energy X-rays, protons, and photons. It includes both external and internal radiation therapy. 

Precision medicine: 

The scope of treating childhood cancer goes beyond the universally applicable treatments mentioned above. In this approach, genetic analysis can find out the mutations causing a child’s cancer, which allows doctors to customize their treatment, which gives fewer side effects than chemotherapy.

Liquid biopsy: 

Another type of development made in childhood cancer treatment is Liquid biopsy. This minimally invasive technique allows doctors to quickly identify a kid's cancer cells. They do this by analyzing tumor DNA found in their blood. This can help them to give better treatment to the children when the cancer relapses again. 

By reading these discoveries, we can see that children can overcome cancer and come back to living healthier and happier lives than they used to live earlier. 

The following section is designed for postgraduate students who want to learn more about this field. 

Pediatrics MD— Course

This Pediatrics MD course at DigiNerve, designed by Dr. Piyush Gupta, helps students get all the latest and resourceful information they can't get elsewhere due to their time shortage. 

By enrolling in this MD in Pediatrics, students can get a range of benefits such as:

Online video lectures: The course includes 170+ hours of pediatrics video lectures.

Self-assessment questions: If you want to practice yourself and know where you stand, then you can try 1490+ MCQ questions outlined in the course.

Engagement activities: There are a range of activities, such as chat shows, journal clubs, and recent updates on the field.

AI chatbot: Dr. Wise (AI chatbot) can help you clarify all your theoretical and practical concepts.

So, if you want to stay updated with the latest information and advances in Pediatric Oncology, buy this course now!

Conclusion

Staying informed with the help of resources like this MD course led by qualified professionals like Dr. Piyush Gupta, you can pave the way towards becoming a medical professional and assist in creating a better and healthier future for children.

[featherwurm]

I'm going to get a lot more personal on here than I usually do:

Baulder's Gate 3, and especially Karlach, make me feel seen in a way no price of media I've ever engaged with before has. It's a big reason why I love it and why it's sticking with me like it is. I too am a big, loud, enthusiastic woman who says out of pocket shit. I have a heavy internal dialogue with myself. I have a temper, I'm bisexual, I love cute shit. I endured years of being utterly touch starved. I love sex and food and being alive...

I also have cancer; it's Follicular B-Cell Lymphoma. I was diagnosed in 2020 when it had reached stage 3A. It's currently under control after chemo* and I'm living my life normally. But while it's a very treatable kind of cancer, it's not fully curable**. There's nothing in me they can remove (it's my whole lymphatic system that's broken) and no drug currently that can wholly knock it out. It's cause is not known (genetically or environmentally), and its unusual for this type of cancer to affect someone as young as I am (I was diagnosed at 35 - it's much more common 65+***). So every three months I go into oncology and they check my blood and symptoms and see if I'm doing ok. I get imaging and biopsies occasionally too. This will go on until I'm not ok (hopefully a long time yet). I'll have to have still manageable but more invasive treatment the next time around. It's a well researched kind of cancer, and my oncologist hopes that in the next decade there may be some more permanent cure for it.

So you can see where I'm going with this. When you hit Karlach's monologue after killing Gortash, I've never felt better understood. I have no one to blame for my condition, no revenge arc of course, but the very same fear, frustration, grief, and anger are all things my husband has heard from me. I've never seen a more beautiful and moving and real exploration of the topic that resonates with me so meaningfully out of a piece of fiction that I love. Béart's performance is amazing - capturing a whole spectrum of emotion.

Karlach's story is absolutely not incomplete as written, confirmed by both the devs and Sam Béart - a terminal condition is just that. You don't get to fix or save her, you get to go with her through tremendous trial and difficulty. If you want to continue that story in your mind that's great (I know I'm eager to do so, for my own personal encouragement if nothing else) but on it's own it's a whole story about coming to terms with something that doesn't have a quick and easy little fetch-quest resolution.

So - every time I see another whinging post/essay/bitchfest about how her story feels "unfinished" or "incomplete" or "has too much cut content" you can see why I might take it a bit personally - knowing that the life I have, the easy solutions I don't get, and the frustration and grief I live with is seen as incorrect and wrong and bad writing makes me a little pissed off. If you think the story is incomplete as told and think a 'third engine upgrade' is missing you completely missed the point.

Karlach doesn't get a simple easy ending because people like me**** don't get that either. And like my husband and the others who love me you can choose to follow that story anyway. And that's fucking beautiful.

*Yeah dealing with cancer and undergoing chemo during a pandemic was really a peach.

**XKCD hits the nail on the head here and here.

***Current treatments have good decade long prognoses... but saying 'you'll probably be fine for the next 10 years' is a lot different at 35 than it is at 65.

****And believe me I've heard from a lot of chronic/terminally ill folks who love the game for the way it represents these things and feel the same, with her Gale, and Shadowheart too.

[spncrscasey]

Workaholic (j.w.)

Fandom/Characters: House M.D. - James Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Children either bring couples together, or push them apart. Unfortunately in your case, it was the latter.

Warnings: baby talk, miscarriage, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, unhealthy coping mechanisms, tumor/cancer mention, happy ending don't worry, and a BUNCH of pet names (these people are sickly in love- its insane)

a/n: almost finished with season 1 of house and i love wilson so so much, he’s such a cutie patootie. anyway i don’t know how accurate this is because i haven’t seen much of the show yet so im going off spoilers and random reasearch lol but hopefully it makes sense and yall enjoy it <3

You were currently sitting in the bathroom of your office staring at the test in front of you. You couldn’t believe it. Two lines. You were pregnant.

You were elated. As the Head of Pediatrics, you had ample experience working with children, which made you even more excited about the chance of being a mom since starting a family has always been a dream of yours.

However, you were unsure about how your husband would react to the news. Although you had discussed having kids with James on a few occasions, you never officially agreed to start trying. So it would be an understatement to say that you felt nervous about telling him.

You let out a sigh, carefully sliding the test into your pocket before hesitantly rising to your feet. Despite your concerns, you had to tell him, he has the right to know. Leaving your office, you made your way to the Oncology Department to seek out your husband.

Once you approached his office, you noticed the door slightly ajar, letting you know he was inside. You took a deep breath before gently pushing the door open.

“Hey, dear,” you said smiling at him when he looked up from his files to meet your eyes.

“Hi there sweetheart, how's my favorite girl doing?” He rose from his chair and sauntered around his desk to reach you, where he wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You didn't respond right away opting to look at your shoes and avoid his eyes, anxious about the news you were about to deliver. He was instantly worried, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“James, honey, I have something I need to tell you.” You whispered but he heard it anyway.

“Of course Y/N, anything.” His voice dripped with fear as he anticipated what you were about to tell him. Considering you were wife number four, he was bracing himself for you to finally tell him you were leaving. Preparing for the worst, almost expecting the divorce papers even though your marriage had been nothing but perfect.

Yet his thoughts were cut short when you blurted out the information you'd been keeping in for the last twenty minutes. “I’m pregnant.”

You gazed into his eyes, trying to decipher his emotions, but they revealed nothing. His expression was unreadable, leaving you feeling even more uneasy.

“We're going to have a baby?” He questioned, shocked. You nodded and pulled out the pregnancy test to show him. He held it, staring at it, bewildered. It was clear he was processing the information, but his thoughts were kept hidden. Yet, you felt optimistic, hopeful that he wasn't showing signs of being upset.

“We’re having a baby!” He repeated with an enormous grin on his face, instantly enveloping you in a tight embrace.

As you hugged him back, a yelp of excitement escaped your lips. He lifted you off the ground, spinning you around as your laughter filled the air. You gently caressed his cheeks, planting quick and tender kisses all over his face. Joy radiating off of the both of you.

He slowly placed you back on the floor, eliciting a giggle from your lips at the way he was suddenly handling you with caution. “Relax, Jamie, I won't break. You don't have to be so careful, you know.” You reassure him, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You're carrying our baby! Some might say I'm not being careful enough!” He exclaimed back, resting his hands on your hips.

There's a comfortable silence for a moment while you both hold each other as everything sinks in.

“I'm glad you're okay with this.” You admit, leaning your forehead against his.

“Okay? Baby, I've never been happier! This is the best day of my life— well, besides the day I met you obviously.” He clarifies, earning a chuckle from you.

“You’re going to be a great dad, James.”

“And you're going to be an even greater mom, sweetheart.” He responds before delicately pressing his lips against yours.

You were eleven weeks pregnant. Your OB mentioned you'd be able to find out the baby's gender at your next appointment. Which you were on the way to right now. James couldn't make it due to a consult House had dragged him to but you reassured him that it was fine. You'd surprise him with a mini gender reveal celebration later.

You already had it planned. You'd go to the baby store and buy an article of clothing corresponding to the gender and wrap it in white to keep it concealed. It would be a special moment between you that you'd cherish for the rest of your life. Just the simple thought of it brought a smile to your face as you walked into the exam room, waiting to be checked out.

The nurse finally entered the room and began the procedure. She squeezed the gel onto your stomach and started the ultrasound. You watched intently, still struggling to comprehend the fact that there was an actual baby growing inside of you. The baby you and James had created, the baby your love had created. Your eyes twinkled in happiness at the idea of the family you'd soon become, the corners of your lips turning upwards.

Your smile faltered though when you noticed a momentary expression on the nurse's face that made you apprehensive. Before you were able to analyze it further, she left, informing you that the doctor would see you shortly.

Your heart began racing. What could that mean? Was the baby okay? Were you okay? What was wrong? Yes, you were a doctor, but suddenly all medical knowledge had left your brain. It's like you couldn't focus on anything but the notion that something was clearly not alright.

Your obstetrician stepped into the room, stopping you from spiraling further. A solemn expression on her face.

“Dr. Montgomery- How’s the baby? Is everything okay? Can we know the sex?” You hurriedly asked, letting it all out at once.

“Y/N, I'm sorry. You've had a miscarriage.” She said, looking at you sympathetically.

The world around you suddenly froze in place. Doctor Montgomery’s lips continued to move, providing information, but no sound reached your ears. It was as if her voice was distant and muffled, and all you could concentrate on was the fact that your baby was gone.

Your surroundings suddenly became blurry, hands trembled uncontrollably. How could this have happened? Both you and James had been incredibly careful and wary throughout the pregnancy. What went wrong?

You didn't even realize when she exited the room, leaving you in solitude with your thoughts. You felt numb, detached from the world that kept on spinning as if the devastating news didn't matter. Why was everyone going about their day as if nothing had happened when you had just received such heartbreaking news about not being able to have your baby? You hated it. You were mad at the world, mad at the doctor, mad at yourself.

You got to your feet and made your way to your husband's office, almost as if on autopilot. It felt surreal like your body was being guided by some invisible force through the busy corridors. It was as though your legs were moving of their own accord, taking you where you needed to be, letting your mind wander.

You suddenly found yourself standing in front of the glass doors, unsure of how you had ended up there in the first place. You hesitantly pushed the door open and entered.

As if you hadn't been through enough today, James’ office was found to be empty. The one person you needed at the moment wasn't here, which frustrated you even more. Logically, you knew it wasn't his fault. He's a doctor too. He probably got stuck with House’s consult, yet you were too distraught to think clearly, your distress clouding your judgment. So instead, you took a seat on the couch, waiting for his eventual return.

You sat there, lost in thought, staring into space, unaware of how much time had passed. Not even the sound of the office door being pulled and James entering could draw your attention.

He, however, saw you. Face instantly beaming. “Hey hun, how was the appointment?” He inquired, clueless to your expression since you had your back turned.

Noticing your lack of acknowledgment, he swiftly rushed over to you. Kneeling in front of your seated body, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

His touch finally snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to meet his concerned gaze. Tears filled your eyes as you whispered, barely audible, “I lost it.”

“Lost what angel? What's going on?” He questioned further, slowly moving his hands to cup your face.

“The baby, James. I lost our baby,” You explained, letting out a sob while falling forward.

He quickly caught you, putting his hands around you to hold you tightly, unable to believe the news himself. He clutched onto you, not only in a way to comfort you but himself as well. Tears kept streaming down your face, and the reality of the situation finally sank in. It felt like you hadn't come to terms with it until just now. You nuzzled your face into his chest, no doubt soaking his dress shirt, but you were too overwhelmed to care.

You could hear a few sniffles coming from him too, which only added to the heartbreak you were feeling. Knowing that you were the cause of his pain, the reason behind his tears. It made it all the more unbearable. The realization that you were the one who had resulted in the end of the life of the baby you both had hoped to raise was finally getting through to you, and it was crushing.

If you had communicated your feelings, he would have immediately reassured you that he would never hold you responsible for this. And he would have been right. No matter how upsetting it may be, these things happen, it wasn't your fault. But your brain wasn't functioning right presently, and all it could see was the pain you believed you were causing the both of you.

You lost track of how long the two of you held each other like that. Time was spent with you mostly crying, and him trying to hold himself together while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn't. Nothing he said would bring your baby back. You let him try regardless, knowing it was his way of coping with the loss.

It had been two weeks since you found out. Two weeks since your life changed for the worse.

There were many ways to deal with a loss. Attend grief support groups, see a therapist, journal, meditate— yet here you were, ignoring all of those and overworking yourself to death instead.

In your head, if you couldn't save and care for your own baby, you were determined to do it for others.

As a result, over the past two weeks, you've thrown yourself into your work. You'd been getting home late while leaving early in the mornings, picking up extra shifts, and spending more time at the clinic— all to avoid confronting the event that occurred.

Was it healthy? No. Was it working? Yes.

You found yourself isolating from everyone and everything. Even your own husband. You didn't mean to avoid him, it just happened that way because you were hardly ever at home anymore. Cuddy had even asked you to go home and rest up on multiple occasions but you refused each time, insisting that you were fine.

You were currently at the clinic, examining a patient who had an unknown mass in her stomach. It was likely a tumor so you were forced to page your husband, Dr. Wilson, Head of Oncology.

You didn't want to do it, knowing that if you paged him here, the conversation would end with him forcing you to open up. As it would be the first time you two would have an actual exchange in the last two weeks. But for your patient's sake, you were ready to set aside your personal issues and focus on her well-being. So you did what you had to do, and hesitantly paged him.

He was inside the exam room within five minutes.

Unbeknownst to you, seeing your name on his pager spiked his heart rate. He hadn't truly spoken to his wife in what felt like forever and seeing that she needed him was a relief. This was finally his opportunity to talk to you.

“You paged me, Dr. Y/L/N?” He asked as he stepped inside.

“Yes actually, Dr. Wilson, could you check what that mass is on the left side of her abdomen?” You pointed toward where the mass was.

“May I?” He asked the patient, motioning towards her body to which she nodded.

Upon receiving the woman's permission, he proceeded to examine the mass. He assessed that there was a high likelihood of it being a tumor, but a biopsy should be scheduled to confirm the diagnosis and see whether it is cancerous or not.

You thank him and turn back to the lady. “You're free to go, ma'am. I'll schedule the biopsy and the hospital will call to let you know when it is.” You inform her as she leaves.

After she leaves the room, you tidy up and restore everything to its original state before attempting to turn toward the door when you feel a tug at your wrist.

“That's it?”

“Is what it? I thanked you for your assistance now I'm going to order the biopsy you mentioned. Did I do something wrong Dr. Wilson?”

“You realize we're alone right? You don't have to be so formal.” He replies, tone filled with something you couldn't put your finger on.

Before you had a chance to reply he continued, “Why haven't you been coming home?” This time you understood his tone, accusatory.

“I have been.”

“Oh that's right, you get home every day past midnight and leave before sunrise. So you're home about what? 4-5 hours?” He summarizes.

“What do you want me to say, James?” You sigh.

“I want you to talk to me! Talk to your husband. Let me in! Stop avoiding me Y/N!” He raises his hands in the air, exasperated.

“I'm not avoiding you, I've just been busy with work.” You reply, purposefully ignoring the first part of his statement.

“Believe me, we've all realized how much of a workaholic you are.” He rolled his eyes.

You both stayed silent for a moment before he spoke up, voice softer this time, “Honey I know losing the baby was hard but-”

You cut him off before he could finish the sentence. The sudden mention of your baby made you see red.

“Don't you dare mention my baby.” You spoke, voice sharper than a thousand knives.

“That was my baby too, Y/N! This loss has been difficult for me too!” He yelled back, making you flinch yet you didn't back down.

“Really? Because I don't recall you being there that appointment.” It was a low blow and you were aware of it. You didn't truly blame him but you were being put on the defensive and you were willing to say anything that would get him to drop the topic.

“That's not fair and you know it,” He shook his head in disbelief.

“What's not fair is that our child is gone, James. Gone.” You let out, voice shaking at the last word.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He pulled you in and you let him, willingly giving into the embrace you'd missed so much. He held you with one arm while using the other hand to stroke up and down your back like he'd done many times before. The comforting touch, so familiar yet so longed for, enveloped you, evoking a profound sense of solace. In that fleeting moment, serenity washed over you, bringing a deep sense of peace, even if it was temporary.

“I don't deserve this.” You mumble into his chest.

He moves his hands to your shoulders, pushing you aside to get a better look at your face, “What do you mean?”

“I don't deserve your kindness. I killed our baby and here you are- comforting me.”

He looked at you dumbfounded. Like you had just said the most idiotic statement known to man. You were blaming yourself for this? He grabbed your chin, bringing your face up so you could look at him.

“Y/N, you know I never blamed you for any of this right?” He asked rhetorically. Knowing you wouldn't answer, he continued, “You didn't kill anyone. You're not responsible for what happened. It's not your fault. I need you to understand that.” He said firmly.

“I just feel so empty James, like a part of me is missing. A part that I'll never be able to get back- and I just don't know what to do with myself anymore.” You confess, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

He moves one hand to the back of your head, absentmindedly playing with your hair, soothing you while you speak.

“It feels like this emptiness is going to last forever and I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with that Jamie.”

Oh, how he had missed hearing that nickname leaving your lips. It made him feel at home.

Perhaps things were slowly getting better.

“It's going to take time, but we’ll get through it Y/N. I promise. Let's just take it one day at a time, alright?”

You nodded, lips slightly quirking up.

“I'm sorry for pushing you away and avoiding you for two weeks.” You look down, embarrassed. “I also apologize for not being there for you. I know you've been dealing with this too and it wasn't right of me to abandon you in a time of need where I should've been by your side instead.”

“That’s okay,” he says drawing you in closer once more, wrapping his arms around you making you sway back and forth. “Just promise me that you'll come home with me tonight, so we can enjoy a nice and relaxing bath together.” He adds.

“Oh, I definitely promise that.” You reply, smirking at him before adding, “I love you.”

“And I love you, angel.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for correcting my niblings without my brother's input?

I had a massive falling out with my family when I was a teenager. I was into goth/edgy/horror culture and true crime before it was accepted by the mainstream, plus my parents were older when they had us and we lived on a farm. They needed my brother and me to keep the farm going, and I decided to pursue college instead. At some point after this they sold/lost their farm, but I do not know when, which fueled their resentment. At their request I did not speak to them until 2021, when my brother found me on Facebook to tell me my parents both died of covid and we held a Zoom funeral. After that he moved several states over to be closer to me so we could work on reconciliation and forgiving me for the farm incident.

So now I (45f) babysit his (44m) two youngest children (10m, 8f) for free, and have been since 2021. Initially he had full custody as his ex wife did not have a job or any job experience when they divorced (before we reconciled) but she now has a full time job so they share custody currently, although she is in our home state, so they decided the kids should go to school there still and spend holidays and summers with him. I am currently an art professor at a local university and for summer semester I only have morning classes and he works afternoons, so it works out.

Last week, his youngest asked me; "OP, how come you lie so much?" Her brother tried to shush her but I asked for clarification. Her brother told her she wasn't supposed to tell me, but she did anyway, and then he also chimed in to confirm. Turns out, whenever I told his kids about any vacations to other countries I took, he said I was making it up to sound important. When I told them I went to medical school, he said I was lying and was a glorified art teacher and only went to community college. I have a serious boyfriend who I have mentioned, although I do not spend time with him while babysitting per the mother's request not to have any adult with her children before meeting them and giving the okay, and so my brother insists I made him up.

I was very hurt, and so I showed them pictures, diplomas, videos, etc proving I was not lying. It is true I got into a community college near our home town on an art scholarship and an FHA grant, but I was able to skip generals due to advanced courses I was taking in high school. I quickly got interested in the medical field and was able to transfer to a medical school on several scholarships and obviously loans. I became a pediatric oncologist and was happy with that until my later thirties. I had kept art as a hobby but eventually realized I wanted to do more with it. I retired from pediatric oncology and then became an art professor five years ago. When I was a doctor, I met my current boyfriend (46m) who is a trauma surgeon. Starting in my late twenties, until covid, I was able to travel throughout the US and even to many foreign countries, sometimes for work, sometimes for vacation. There was no way for him to know this as we were not in contact, but I was very hurt that instead of believing me, he has been telling his kids I'm a liar for the past two years. So yes I did show them the photos and videos specifically because I was hurt.

The following day my brother called me and shouted at me, angry I had deliberately contradicted him. He was angry enough he was shouting at me. He has been dragging this on through text for the past few days. His ex wife also contacted me, asking for my version of events, as apparently their children called her crying about the situation. I told her exactly what I said here. He called me not an hour later screaming. Unbeknownst to me, she has been trying to get full custody of the children and he's convinced that this situation will get his kids taken from him, something he has a fear of due to the fact he has two adult children from a previous marriage who went no contact when they both turned 18. He insists that his ex wife turned them against him, and now he is terrified it will happen again. I was not aware of this until recently, nor did I think this would cause an issue with his custody. It has been very awkward babysitting his kids, as they have been very quiet since this whole thing happened. I don't have kids myself, nor have I been divorced, so I don't understand parenting or divorce etiquette, but I am still very hurt and even angry with him for calling me a liar to his children. Before I make any further decisions regarding an apology, I wanted to get advice as to whether I am the asshole for not bringing it up with him before showing his kids evidence that I did, in fact, do those things, and if so, how I can rectify this appropriately.

What are these acronyms?

[creepyscritches]

My therapist did not laugh at my frow up story bc I didn't remember lmao but he DID laugh at me saying I thought my cancer knowledge base was pretty similar to common knowledge levels. After I was like 'I mean, it's not much to explain the differences between primary and secondary malignancies and I'm sure there's better teachers than me for pathology/histological examinations :/' he just

"I have never heard any of that"

And then explained the curse of knowledge to my goober ass

AUGH. All excited to do my neuroendocrine cancer education today so I took a "wake up" shower and got too hot and now I'm 🤢 30 min before I need to speak for an hour 🤡

[y13evie]

hi i love love your writing!! would you write a smut for james wilson from house? maybe reader is working on house's team, or just works at the hospital. slight age gap also if that's okay!

ty for writing it if you choose it!! <33

clear your mind

omg i am SO sorry for the wait, my dear. i hope you enjoy!!

tags: age gap, smut, fuckin on da job

the tension was consuming you. day and night, all you could think about was him. there have been countless nights where you touched yourself while creating fake scenarios of you two. but that’s irrelevant right now. you’re supposed to be helping your team figure out what may be wrong with your critical patient. house notices you aren’t concentrated.

“you. what’ve you got?”. he tilts his head at you. you know he was asking you on purpose, everything he did had reasoning. you think of something fast. and it’s obvious.

“appendicitis?”

“jesus. who gave you a medical degree? get out and clear your head, you need it.”

god he was harsh. but he was right. you nodded at your colleagues as house shooed you out. you scolded yourself for not separating your work and home life. it wasn’t your fault though. james was so smart, so handsome, so much older. it’s like he was asking to be swooned over.

to clear your head you decided to hang out with your favorite nurse before getting back to work. she knew the feelings you had for james and supported your slightly problematic crush. she nursed in the oncology department, so you treaded the waters to her office very carefully. due to your lack of attention to your surroundings, you managed to walk right into the very man you’re avoiding.

“oh, hi. i actually needed to talk to you about something if you have a moment”. he looked at you with those eyes. everyone might call you crazy but you swear that coworkers don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.

“i’m busy. bye”. you nudged past him, something unusual as it’s normal for you to be so bubbly around him.

you barge into your friend's office and immediately throw yourself onto her beanbag.

“i’m a failure”. your muffled voice dripping with drama. she peeled her eyes off of her reports to you. it was quite a humorous sight, your face in the bean bag as you kick your feet like a toddler.

“what happened this time, sis.”. she walks over to you and sits criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to spill. you prop your head up on your hands and begin your story from the moment house kicked you out and basically called you an idiot.

the way she bit her lip in an effort to stifle her laughter tells you she’s not taking your sob story very seriously.

“it’s not funny!” you huffed. now you really looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

that did it for her. she began to laugh a little.

“it’s so funny. you’re a mess, babe! i need you to pick yourself up and go get your old man.”. you could tell she’s serious but can’t help but giggle at ‘old man’. that’s something she always nagged you about.

you got yourself back onto your feet and decided she was right. it was probably the only way you could get those silly thoughts out of your head. you thanked your friend for helping you out and marched out of her office. just as you were about to reach the department of diagnostic medicine, you heard a familiar voice.

“hey. we need to talk now.”. you turned around and faced him. all the bravery in your heart melted as soon as you came face to face with james wilson.

“uhm..sure? what about?” you questioned. there was what felt like an endless pit in your stomach, you almost wanted to order an MRI. he instructed you to follow him to his office, which of course, you obeyed.

when you arrived at his office he let you walk in first, being sure to lock the door once you both were in. you began to toy with the stitching of your white coat. he sits at the edge of his desk, waiting for you to look up.

“what’s going on?” he questions you this time. you paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say.

“what?”

“the way you walked right past me today. what was that about?”. he pushes his question further, expecting an answer to your coldness.

your heart dropped once you understood what he meant. you looked at him with pleading eyes, scanning his face for how he’s feeling.

“i’ve had something on my mind. i’m really, really sorry. you’re the last person i want to ignore.”

“so you’re ignoring me?” you can tell he isn’t upset as a sly smile makes its way into his face. you roll your eyes as he beckons you to come a little closer.

“what’s on your mind?”. he knows how you feel. it’s painfully obvious. he just wants to hear you say it.

you claim it’s nothing and wave it off as stress, but he knows you’re lying. he knows you’re lying when you come even closer to him, positioning yourself right between his legs that are hanging off his desk. he knows you’re lying when you can’t help but stare at the way his pants are tightening around his crotch.

“you know how unprofessional this is, right? or do you just wanna feel me inside of you.”. you’re done with him teasing you. you shut him up by placing a soft kiss on lips, which then led to a makeout session that had his hands roaming your body. and you let him. the way you grind on him in desperation tells him everything he needs to know.

he allows you to face the desk, commanding you to take off your pants and lean over it. you do exactly as he says. james takes absolutely no time to plow into you. you were expecting him to be more gentle, but for some reason you were drunk on this feeling. the way his cock is hitting your most sensitive spots over, and over again is driving you mad.

“y’know how long i’ve wanted to do this? feel you around me just like this. i bet you wanted this too, huh.”. all you can do is pathetically nod your head and quietly sob into his desk. your cries did nothing but make him twitch inside of you, groans coming deep from within his throat.

you felt your back instinctively arch further as you feel your orgasm building up. just as you were about to come undone, he stopped. you gasp as he pulls out and just looks at you. you turn around and see him stroking his length. he gently grabs your face with his free hand and tilts it downwards. you knew what he wanted. and you wanted to make him feel good.

as you got down on your knees you made sure to replace his hand with your own, setting an absurdly slow pace. you swiped your thumb across the slit that was leaking beads of precum and placed your mouth onto his tip. you slowly bobbed up and down to get accustomed to his size, and then began to take him farther and farther. james gripped your hair tightly as a disorganized string of swears left his mouth.

“so good f’me baby, being such a good girl taking me like this”.

his praises encouraged you to work your mouth even faster. the way he whimpered and moaned out your name told you he was getting close. focusing on his tip while using your hand for the rest of his cock is what sent him over the edge. he thrusted into your mouth a few times to help ride out his high. you felt so proud of yourself for making such a mess of him.

james was overstimulated and tired, but he needed to make his girl feel good. he sat you back down onto his desk and instructed you to lean back. he was drooling at the sight of your pussy all open and wet for you. he wanted to go slow with you but god you looked so desperate. he got onto one of his knees and began ravaging you. your hands are kneading as his hair as he makes circles around your clit with his tongue. the sounds are lewd but neither of you care. he’s teasing your entrance with his curled fingers before plunging them into you. the feeling of him sucking your puffy clit with the sensation of hitting your sweet spot was so overwhelming. tears ran down your face as your orgasm comes crashing over you.

james allows you to calm yourself down before helping you put your outfit back in. he wishes he had the time to give you proper aftercare and praise you for how great you made him feel, but he can’t. instead he settles for leaving a mix of small and passionate kisses all over your face while murmuring sweet praises in between each breath. as you were reaching for the doorknob james asks you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

“hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

before “sneakily” exiting his office you throw him a thumbs up and sweet smile. god, you could get used to this.

[velaryqns]

Hey!

Can you do a Robert chase x female reader story?

Chase is married to his co-worker for just a few month. Y/n stays home from work because she wakes up feeling nauseous and throws up, chase wakes up when he hears y/n throwing up and he gets concerned.

Chase tells his wife to stay home from work which she does. When Chase is at the hospital and working he starts to think about his wife and about what can be wrong with her.

When Chase gets home after a long day at work he sees his wife asleep on the couch and the tv is on. Chase is looking at the tv when a commercial starts which is about a pregnancy test and that’s when he gets the idea that his wife might be pregnant.

Y/n wakes up when Chase have been sitting on the couch for a few minutes. They both go to sleep and chase doesn’t say a word about his guess, he is thinking about talking to his wife about it the next day.

I leave the rest for you!

Father’s Intuition

Pairing: Robert Chase x Fem! Reader — (established relationship)

Fandom: House MD

Warnings: morning sickness, fluff, marriage, pregnancy, medical references, cliff hanger ending

Authors note: it was late when I wrote this, like really late. But I tried. I’m also sorry for my absence, I’ve been getting ready to move for school and working a lot more because of it. But I am still open for requests!

It wasn’t uncommon for you or Robert to wake up before the other. Even before you were married. It would typically result in sweet kisses to wake the other up, and then getting ready for the morning before going to the hospital for the day.

This morning, however, was different. You had barely woken up and been able to wake Robert when you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. You tried to repress it for a moment, but it bested you and you quickly through your blankets back and rushed down the hall and into the bathroom.

You weren’t aware of how loud your retching was until you heard Robert’s rushed footsteps and his worried tone as he repeated your name. You felt one large hand on your back and the other running through your hair, keeping it back but also trying to comfort you.

“Love,” he said softly after a moment. You had seemed to calm down and were just hesitantly leaning over the toilet bowl, one hand poised and ready to flush it. His brows furrowed, “Are you alright?”

You only groaned in response, reaching to flush the toilet before you brought the lid down, resting your forehead against it and allowing the coolness of the kid to course through you.

“I’m going to get you some water, will you be alright?” He refused to pull away until you hummed, gently nodding your head and moving to sit on the toilet.

You were slouched on the seat, a hand rubbing your queasy stomach, when Robert came back. He crouched in front of you, cupping your cheek and coaxing you to look up at him, “Drink some water.”

You nodded, grabbing the cup and taking a swig of water. You swished it around in your mouth for a moment as you pushed yourself to stand, spitting the water into the sink before you leaned against the bathroom counter and took an actual drink.

“You alright?” Your husband asked softly, reminding you that he was in the room. He approached you, his hands going to your hips. He squeezed them gently as you set the glass down, wrapping your arms behind his neck and resting your hand on his bare chest.

“I’ll get over it,” You muttered, basking in his warmth as he hummed, wrapping his arms around you completely before he lifted you on the counter. You let out a gasp, “Robert—“

“You’re staying here today,” he spoke, blue eyes locking with your eyes and hands resting on your thighs, “Take care of yourself…do a little packing.”

Packing, right. The new house.

“I can’t afford to call off of work,”

“Yes you can,” Robert gave you a stern look, though you could tell he was teasing. You only smiled and shook your head.

“What if I’m needed?” Working in Oncology, you never knew what could arise.

“Wilson will understand,” Robert reminded you, as Wilson was close to not only you, but Robert as well, “But Dr. Chase advises you stay at home today.”

“Don’t pull that with me,” you chuckled softly, reaching up and grabbing his chin. You were prepared to press a kiss to your husband’s lips, but then stopped, “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

He was silent, processing your words for a moment before he opted to kiss your forehead, “I’m going to go get dressed. You stay hydrated.”

Robert gently tapped your thighs and helped you off the counter. You returned to your room, where you changed out of your pajamas and into a pair of shorts and one of Robert’s sweaters. You noticed the shorts were a bit snug, but though nothing of it when you caught Robert changing. You silently admired his physic, and he turned to you while he buttoned his shirt.

“You’ll be fine without me today?” He asked, stepping toward your full-length mirror to make sure his buttons lined up. You took the opportunity to approach the closet, picking a tie to go with his shirt; a morning ritual.

“I’m a grown woman, hon,” You reminded him with a chuckle. You passed the tie in his direction and he accepted it, slinging it over his shoulder while he tucked his shirt into his jeans and then grabbed for a belt.

“You’re sick,” He countered.

“I’ve been sick before I married you, I’m certain I can handle it after,” You laughed and sat on the bed, letting him finish getting ready. He snatched his wedding band from his side of the bed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll call Cuddy and Wilson. I’ll see you when I get home tonight, call me if you need anything,” his words were genuine, and sincere. You always knew you could count on him when it was needed, “I love you.”

“I love you,” a content smile crossed your face as you watched him walk out of the room, a few minutes later you heard the front door open and shut.

You waited a moment, and then crawled back up in the bed. Still feeling a little queasy, you knew it wouldn’t hurt to get some more sleep before you jumped to packing — not that you wanted to spend your day doing that either. You made a mental note of everything you could try to do while you were at home all day, and before you knew it: you fell back asleep.

Robert was use to the hassle that came with his job, but he was also preoccupied and worried when it came to you being home sick while he was at the hospital alone all day. Cuddy was entirely understanding, she was fond of you. And Wilson didn’t complain, he could fill in your appointments with himself and other doctors on his team.

The day was long. House was…well, House. They spent their day working with their patient, as well as listening to Foreman and House’s arguments. When they could finally close the case, he was glad to pack up and return home.

The apartment was mostly quiet. He could faintly hear the tv as he unlocked the front door. He pushed it open, then shut it and locked it. Robert kicked off his shoes, leaving them by the front door for the time being as he set his keys on the table by the door. The lights above the stove were on in the kitchen, but it was dark otherwise. There was a lamp on in the living room, one of your books (one of the few you still had lying around from packing) discarded beside it.

Robert walked toward the couch as quietly as possible, setting his case down behind the couch and draping his jacket over the arm chair as he smiled down at you. You were sprawled on the couch, the thick throw blanket over your body. He knew you were probably tired, and didn’t bother to wake you as he made his way back toward the kitchen to find something to eat.

He hadn’t expected you to cook anything; he had been working and you weren’t feeling well. So he made himself a sandwich, ate, and then returned to the living room, gently lifting your legs and sitting in the couch, then resting them in his lap. He had no issue sitting there until you woke up, you were a fairly light sleeper and typically woke up at certain times of night.

He watched the tv screen, seeing the commercials playing. But it was one in particular that caught his attention: one for a pregnancy test. He watched the commercial for a moment, then turned his gaze to fall on you. In all fairness, this hadn’t been the first time you’d gotten sick in the past few weeks. It hadn’t been consistent until recently, and that is when he had certainly picked up on it. It got him thinking, but thankfully you started waking up so he couldn’t get too caught up in his thoughts.

Your eyes settled on him, lighting up as you shifted around on the couch to rest your body against his own. Robert’s arm wrapped around you, squeezing gently as he kissed the top of your head.

“Feeling any better?” He asked softly, rubbing your arm.

You hummed, “Got sick a few more times, but I did get more things in our bedroom packed.”

“Lose, win situation I suppose,” he said softly, gaze shifting back toward the tv before he sighed, “let’s get you in bed. It’s comfier.”

“You’re not wrong,” You chuckled and sat straight, stretching your arms above you while Robert stood and shut the tv off. He folded the blanket, throwing it over the back of the couch before he grabbed his jacket held a hand toward you, helping you to your feet. You shut off the lamp, simply relying on the dim light from the kitchen to make your way back to your shared room.

He grabbed his case from behind the couch, but then followed after you. You were already taking off the sweater you’d been wearing when he walked in, changing it out for a tanktop before you climbed under the covers. Boxes were stacked in the corner in front of the closet, and he could see your handwriting scrawled on them.

Robert changed in silence, but could feel your eyes on him. When he turned to face you, pulling on his pajama pants, your brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said softly, smiling at you as he walked toward the bed, “Let’s get some sleep. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Maybe,” You shrugged, letting Robert shut the lights off before he joined you in bed. The two of you laid close to one another, and he couldn’t help but rest a hand on your stomach, his mind wandering back toward the commercial.

Could it be possible? If so, he was grateful that the two of you had gotten a new house. A few months of marriage could certainly bring something like this on, but you and Robert hadn’t discussed it yet. The idea of it almost scared him…his own father wasn’t that great, and it left him wondering if he’d be the same.

“You’re overthinking,” You suddenly spoke, he hadn’t realized you were awake, “Get some sleep.”

So sleep he did.

Morning came faster than he wanted, and Robert felt relief knowing that you were still sleeping when he peeled his eyes open. He silently admired you for a moment, but then remembered everything from the previous day. Robert pushed himself up in bed, pressing a kiss against your temple before he found a piece of paper and scribbled a note.

He changed into jeans and a t-shirt, walking out of your room and leaving the apartment. The pharmacy was only a few minutes away, and should be open. He pulled into the parking lot and walked inside. Robert knew the general idea of what he was looking for, and grabbed a few different ones before checking out and returning home.

You were in the kitchen making some breakfast when the door opened, and you turned to greet Robert. He made a beeline toward you in the kitchen, setting a plastic bag in the counter and kissing you.

You hummed, pulling away, “What’s that?”

Robert glanced toward the bag you were pointing at, offering a weak shrug, “A possible reason as to why you’ve been sick.”

Your brows knit together and you walked toward the bag, pulling out three different kinds of pregnancy tests. Your jaw dropped, processing what was going on as you looked up at your husband. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and he only offered another shrug.

“It wouldn’t hurt to know, would it?” He asked gently.

[ppthsworstlapdog]

House Swapped au where you have

Dr Foreman, Dean of Medicine. First black person to act as such in PPTH’s history, and equally proud and defensive of it. No longer practicing neurology, but has a keen interest in mentoring med students and residents. Set up the Department of Diagnostic Medicine for Chase, and has a (not so) secret interest in participating, even if he thinks he shouldn’t. Often manages to get roped in somehow, anyhow. Not many at the hospital like him, although they do respect him.

Dr Cameron, department head of the E.R. Formerly an immunologist, after her husband’s death she prefers the fast paced environment, but is still available for immunology consults. Loves doing Clinic, is on the transplant board, one of the main routes through which diagnostics gets their cases, and involved in as much hospital business as she has time for. Her relationship with Dr Chase is tumultuous, in an on-again off-again are-they-together-or-not situationship. They’re friends, and sometimes lovers, but they’re too unstable to be long-term partners.

And Dr Chase, intensivist and surgeon turned crackpot diagnostician after a freak altercation with an intensive care patient left him reliant on a crutch (of course, with no House to diagnose him, a week of PT isn’t the solution). Although NOT addicted to Vicodin, he remains bitter/traumatized about the situation and refuses to interact with patients, often going to extreme lengths to avoid them. In a weird thing with Cameron, a brutal gossip and flirt, and mostly well-liked among the nurses, if not somewhat pitied (but only by the new ones). Bad at keeping fellows due to his less-than-stellar teaching style, but maybe this newest batch will be alright:

Dr Cuddy, an endocrinologist recently off of her residency. Has big goals and lofty ambitions, and will do anything to get there. Not the best diagnostic fellow, but she can handle her colleagues and is incredibly good at handling patients and their families. Is probably fooling around with one of the new hotshot hospital lawyers, but no one can prove it. Wants kids one day, but she’s more focused on her career right now.

Dr Wilson, once-divorced oncologist. A strange fellowship to end up in, but after his friend told him about the position decided to apply. Spends his weekends looking for his lost brother. Hoping the fellowship will offer him a chance to join the oncology department. Also good at dealing with patients, he’s the go-to for delivering bad news. Chronic flirt, but on good terms with all the nurses.

And Dr House, nephrologist and infectious disease specialist, who took the position in diagnostics because he was “getting bored” with his other specialities. Loud, abrasive, and boisterous, he’s Chase’s go-to for b&e and sniffing out patient lies. Is unfortunately the most stubborn, and will do anything to prove himself right, including getting assaulted on several occasions. Chase’s longest running employee, he met Wilson several years ago in New Orleans and convinced him to move to Princeton. Cuddy he met in med school, and they’ve kept in touch since.

[aria-ashryver]

hiya darlings! health update below the cut

TW: cancer

so, further to my last health update - I've been on a break from my regular immune therapy treatment because it was causing heart failure, and I had just started a new course of medication to try and counteract this.

i've been monitoring my symptoms - my heart seems to have recovered a tiny bit, but I have been dealing with steadily worsening headaches since early September. Headaches are a known side effect of this particular medication, so I was just planning to bear it until my next scheduled oncology clinic.

here's where things have taken a turn. Part of my break period involved getting a heart scan, and a CT of my head, abdomen, and pelvis -> since I had paused my immune therapy, we had to check the cancer hadn't spread in the interim.

I got a call yesterday with my CT results. Unfortunately, it is showing multiple lesions in my brain. The headaches aren't a side effect of the meds like i thought. I have cancer again. In my brain.

uuuhhhhh, not good news, huh? :/

I don't know what the game plan is - im expecting a call tomorrow to tell me to get my ass to the hospital so I can talk to my oncologist and see just how bad things are, and how we are going to proceed with treatment.

It's likely I'll be doing radiation therapy, but I don't know much yet. They put me on an urgent course of steroids to reduce the swelling in my brain around the lesions, so with any luck, my headaches won't be so bad pretty soon! (Bc holy crap they have been bad. People don't warn you just how much cancer hurts, y'all. Not the treatments, the treatments are bad, yes, but the cancer itself, as it is growing. I'm reeeeaally looking forward to a little relief lol)

Anyway, sorry for the shit news!! My presence online will probably continue to be infrequent, but I'll make sure to post now and then to let you know I'm still alive lmao. WHICH I PLAN TO BE. I have kicked Caesar's ass once before, and I am planning to do it again this time too ✌️

sending you all my love,

aria

xx

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im the anon who sent that gaz ask and omg kyle's interlude was so good!!!!! im just giggling thinking of kyle wondering how much does she know? did she catch on somehow? fuck I have to take her out quick before she finds out how many projects ive finished and the whole time miss new girl is like. wow this guy fucking sucks at his job i want him gone from my hospital >:(

mans thinks shes gonna file a case with a police and she just thinks he's incompetent as shit

I'm so tickled. That's exactly what's happening.

CW: discussions of death and dying, autopsies, medical neglect

There’s something going on on the cardiac floor that you just… can’t quite put your finger on.

This isn’t the first hospital you’ve worked at, but you’re also new to urban healthcare, so you don’t want to rock the boat by being paranoid. But traffic from the cardiac floor is… steady. You’ve read the papers, know the stats like the back of your hand. And the cardiac floor is perfectly in line with expected trends. Every. Month.

There are fluctuations, of course. Plus or minus three to seven lives is nothing remarkable in cardiology. Macabre, maybe, but true. But that’s unnatural. In the seven months you’ve worked here, you’ve seen waves elsewhere in the hospital. The plastics floor had a month with zero deaths followed by a month of a persistent infection sweeping through the otherwise reasonably healthy patients. Oncology has seen a steady decline in patients sent your way, thank goodness. Even emergency and intensive care aren’t as fixedly consistent as the cardiac floor.

When you wonder about it aloud to the director, Dr. Martins just shrugs. “We have a good team up there. Very good at keeping things clean and double and triple checking their work.”

“But if that’s the case, then the number of deaths should be going down,” you point out.

Dennis gives you a rueful smile. “That’s not always how human bodies work, unfortunately. You know that.”

You do know that. Which is why the consistency grates against your nerves. So you decide to do a little digging.

The name that comes up the most often in the chart notes is one Kyle Garrick.

That’s actually not 100% accurate. He’s charting exactly the way he’s supposed to. And no nurse has complete, individual access to patients 24/7. But every dying patient he has access to is… perfect. Their blood work, labs, vitals, prognosis, medication adherence and refusal is almost too-the-letter, textbook precise.

The most obvious answer is that Garrick, and probably a couple of other nurses on the floor, are fudging the numbers.

The idea is infuriating. You hate the way the administrators keep changing medical record systems just as much as the next person, but inaccurate charting is a safety issue. People can, have, and do die because someone writes down the wrong timing for medications or assumes that a patient’s vitals are unchanged. If anything, this is probably worse than that. The fact that everything is so pristine probably means that some patients are just being written off. The nurses might be deciding who gets the excellent care the hospital is known for and who gets neglected.

You stay three hours late investigating the next cardio patient that ends up in your morgue.

After examining the body and reading, rereading, and re-re-re-reading his chart, you find it. A stutter in the dosages of blood thinners, a slightly higher blood pressure reading from someone who isn’t nurse Kyle fucking Garrick. Just enough evidence to have you testing the body with an aspirometer almost too late. And there it is. A fatal air embolism.

You want to scream, but the dead man doesn’t deserve that.

Three weeks later, sipping from your water bottle, someone calls into the office. “Knock knock.”

Dennis practically lights up. “"Good morning, Kyle. Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Dr Martins hates unexpected visitors. Then you look over your shoulder, and you understand. Even old queens aren't immune to pretty privilege. The man that’s leaning in the doorway is gorgeous. Maybe its because you work with dead bodies all day, but his eyes and skin seem to glow, even under the fluorescents.

"Can't," the man says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The fact that you’re wiping crumbs off of your mouth over a paper plate is the only reason no one sees your face fall when you hear him say, “Nice to meet you. Kyle Garrick.”

[quinngefail]

So apparently at 19 Lawrence got institutionalized for 6 months from a psychotic breakdown. I’m pretty sure it’s mentioned in one of the video games. Do you think he’d tell Adam about it? How you you think adam would react? (Also why do you think he even had a breakdown?) love you!!! 🩷

Omfg okay okay I haven't played either of the games yet but I intend to. I did not know about that little bit of lore, though..... But tbh it slides in so perfectly with what I've been formulating for backstory headcanons,

I haven't actually written any of this out in my Google doc yet but. I feel like rambling and just laying out the relevant parts of what I've been brainstorming for him-

Putting a cut because this got longer than I thought it would. Also- tw for talks of emotional abuse, alcoholism, and a brief sui mention- nothing super detailed, though.

So uh. I've been imagining him growing up in this wealthy, very controlling, catholic household. And even from a young age it was extremely rare for his parents to even glance at any of his problems.., One part because they were absolutely the types to guilt him with the whole "THERE ARE CHILDREN IN AFRICA STARVING AND YOU'RE SITTING HERE CRYING ABOUT SOMETHING THAT IS SO TRIVIAL" and another part because I imagine his mother was diagnosed with cancer when Lawrence was just a kid. Which was hard on everyone, of course, but this also meant less attention being put on him and his problems (ft. more guilting because you should be grateful that all you have is a scraped knee, stop crying). Basically the response to any of his struggles would very often be Stop Moping and/or Go Pray About It y’know-

Sooo even at a young age, he quickly developed this mindset that none of his problems were actually 'real', because he had it drilled into his head again and again that he was in a far more fortunate + blessed position than others. Which yeah obviously he had a great deal of privilege on his side from the get-go, but he's still allowed to express hurt and his need for love and care, y’know,

So he just starts repressing everything, holding it all inside. Internally minimizing and invalidating just about anything that made him upset. He does this for years, and years. And by the time that first year of college rolls around, he now has the most independence in his life that he's ever had, finally away from that very, very controlling household... And I very much imagine him as the type to just go off the rails almost immediately, especially in the drinking department. His grades rapidly slip, and he knows there will be hell to pay when his parents inevitably find out about all of this- but it's easier to just sit back and drink, and let his cares about everything slip away.

And of course, his parents do indeed find out. And there is indeed hell to pay. More so from his father, though, as his mother's condition has been rapidly deteriorating, which was certainly just one of the many motivators for Lawrence's drinking. And it's not long before she does pass away, which I think was a final straw of sorts for his mental health.

Between the bottles and bottles of repression he's been holding in for years, the drinking, the fact that he's fucked up so badly with college + absolutely fuckin wasted an amount of time and money, the sheer outrage and disappointment from his parents, his mother's death, and the shattering of his already shaky faith (because evidently, praying for his mother's health didn't do a goddamn thing)... It's a wonder he didn't break sooner,

So then this is where him being institutionalized just SLIDES IN SO EASILY... And I do think right before this happened, he had attempted to take his own life, unable to deal with it all. The treatment helps him back onto a straight path. And maybe he'd already been interested in the medical field, but the loss of his mother was sort of the final push towards wanting to pursue oncology specifically. So after being released, it's college take two: and it goes far better than the last time.

However, he develops this fear of losing control again. He finds comfort and necessity in order. He almost needs it to feel okay. He still has a hard time voicing and downplaying his problems, though, still feeling like they're not 'real'... This being a particular souvenir from growing up that he just can't seem to overcome.

He's also not at all surprised to get a call (in either his late 20s or early 30s) that his father had drank himself to death. Just seemed inevitable.

Then, to cut to the Becoming Closer With Adam Era, I don't imagine he has a hard time explaining that both of his parents have passed away, and why. But he has a very hard time disclosing everything else that happened. Because his problems aren't 'real', of course, and it's just an extremely touchy subject for him in general. Been imagining for a while now that he has this whole Thing where he's far more focused on helping Adam with his own problems- and y’know, part of that is just the fact that when they finally reunite in my AU, Adam is obviously deeply in need of help, because things have gotten bad for him in the months following the bathroom trap. But another part is just Lawrence still having troubles with expressing his own struggles; whether they be traumatic incidents of the past, or the more current Jigsaw related traumas.

Adam eventually catches onto this, especially as his problems become less urgent. And while he's not necessarily going to interrogate Lawrence over anything, he does begin to more frequently urge him to talk about things when he's obviously upset. Lawrence still isn't as good at masking as he thinks he is, much to his dismay. Something specific that I imagine Adam reminding him, with a earnest voice of kindness and patience, is that "this isn't just about you helping me, it's about me helping you, too."

Lawrence does eventually start to open up more about his more current struggles, but it takes a good, long while before he begins scratching the surface of that period of his life. They would be upsetting conversations for the both of them, of course, but the fact that they happen at all are just testaments to the trust they've built together. They feel safer and safer being vulnerable with one another, and it brings them closer together.

And maybe, it brings them closer and closer to things finally just feeling okay.

...WOOH If you are here, thank you for reading- didn't think I was going to ramble this much, but EVIDENTLY I HAVE MORE THOUGHTS ON THIS THAN I REALIZED LMAO..... WHEN I SAY I HAVE A SMALL NOVEL WORTH OF THOUGHTS ABOUT THESE TWO I'M NOT LYING HRKSKGK

A lot of this is also still in the brainstorming stage at this point, so things may be subject to change :] WE SHALL SEE...

And thank you for the ask, and the kind words!!! I hope you enjoy my brainrot HSKGK

[81buttons]

´Like a date ?’ Part 2

Part 1 , Part 2 (this one) , Part 3

House md!James Wilson x reader 

summary: when House invites Wilson's crush on a date for revenge or when Wilson falls madly in love with a member of House's team

TW: House being house, mention of failed marriages and divorce, some house’s jokes and for this story I don’t mention the presence of Cameron, the reader being the main female character in the House team.

(ok I definitely imagine Izzie as my character physically, but that's just a suggestion)

Remember:

Y/n : Your Name

Y/F : Your Family name

h/c : your Hair Color

sorry for the grammar mistakes, enjoy!

———————————————————————

30 minutes.

30 freaking minutes since you had been waiting for him.

When House unexpectedly suggested going out tonight with you this morning, you were surprised; it really wasn't his style, so you became cautious. 

Why on earth would House want to go out with you tonight?

He then mentioned needing company for the event he had to attend, claiming it was mandatory—a lame excuse that you obviously didn't buy.

"But isn't Wilson available tonight?" 

You knew their duo was inseparable under normal circumstances, so for Wilson to refuse to accompany him seemed suspicious.

"He's busy tonight... Well, listen, if you really don't want to come..."

He played the victim card, portraying poor House who had no friends to accompany him tonight.

...And you fell right into it.

"No, no, I never said I didn't want to come, I'm just trying to gather information and-"

"Alright, tonight at my place at 7:30, don't be late" he suddenly said, his vitality restored, then swiftly left the office without giving me a chance to finish my sentence.

That's how you found yourself on a Friday night at 8:05, desperately waiting for your boss outside his house.

Leaning against your car, you checked your watch for the hundredth time. 

Since you didn't even have time to ask, you didn't know what to wear. Monster Trucks... How does one dress for such an event?

You ended up choosing a simple black jeans, a long-sleeved top of the same color with a V-neck, and a dark brown leather jacket to keep warm. Your hair was down and starting to tangle in the wind.

8:10

Did House stand you up? No, he's cynical, sarcastic, and his humor isn't for everyone, but House isn't mean. 

What if this was a bad joke? You quickly dismissed that thought.

House just needed someone for tonight, that's all. 

Still, you wondered why your oncology doctor couldn't accompany him; it wasn't like him to leave a friend alone. But who were you to know how he is?

8:14, if House didn't show up by 8:20, you were definitely leaving.

Anyway, you were curious about where Wilson was spending his evening. 

House mentioned he was busy; it must be something important. A date? But with whom?

As far as you knew, alias what House told you (of course, with no innuendos), the doctor wasn't seeing anyone at the moment—not that you cared, but it was surprising. 

But as your boss said, Wilson excels at many things but has no luck with relationships.

You sighed in frustration, 8:16, four more minutes and you were gone.

Do you enjoy Wilson's company? Yes.

Do you find him cute? Yes.

Have you had a secret crush on him since the first day you saw him? Yes.

Do you struggle to understand how such an incredible and kind man could be alone? Yes.

But were you going to do anything about it? No.

You appreciate Wilson, sure, you wanted more than just colleagues, but as stubborn and confident as you are, you didn't have the strength and courage to ask him out.

Wilson was the head of the oncology department and a renowned doctor in the hospital whom everyone liked. He liked you too, but not in the same way.

Even though House keeps teasing you with remarks and innuendos, deep down, you knew Wilson clearly wasn't interested in you, and it wasn't worth ruining a friendship between colleagues over a simple date.

8:18, you were going to kill House if he didn't come out of that apartment.

Just as you were about to leave, grabbing your car keys, you heard a door lock and saw House stepping out of his apartment.

"50 minutes!" you exclaimed.

"It's been 50 minutes since I've been waiting for you. I don't think you realize how rude it is to keep someone waiting for so long. I mean, have you seen the ti-"

"Get in the back," he said, pulling out a keychain.

Still shocked and angry, you didn't understand what he was getting at.

"Excuse me?"

Beep beep.

A motorcycle, please tell me this is a joke, you think.

"We're not really going on a motorcycle, are we?"

"Why not? Do you have a problem with my baby? Don't worry; there's no way you're driving it."

"But, I mean, your leg, how?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Are you coming or not? We're already late."

——————————————————————

You dismounted from the motorcycle and waited for him to take his cane out of its case before leaving.

"So, this is where it happens," you began, looking at numerous trucks of all colors with strange paintings in front of you, they were huge and some were completely destroyed.

Well, you didn't have to be a genius to understand that you knew nothing about all this, but you made an effort for House; he had invited you, after all.

"yes, the sacred temple of Monster Trucks!" House replied cheerfully.

You rarely saw him so happy.

"Let's go then! We have a meeting in 5 minutes in front of the cotton candy stand."

"A meeting? But we're already here, and the show starts in at least 15/20 minutes..."

House turned towards you, a playful and mischievous smile on his face, a sign that he was proud of his move.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that we're not alone tonight?" he said with a voice that pretended to be innocent.

You blinked twice, not quite sure you understood everything.

"Oops, I can be really absent-minded sometimes," he added, putting a hand over his mouth. He started to head towards the entrance.

"W-wait," you tried to catch up with him.

"I don't understand, does that mean you invited me from the start, saying you were alone when in reality you weren't?"

"Uh, yes."

"But why, I mean why invite me and who are these people, do I know them? House, I'm warning you, if you're getting me into some shady plan..."

He stopped and turned towards you.

"I invited you because I'm in love with you."

You stopped talking for two seconds, looking at him, his serious gaze fixed on you.

"Cut the shit House."

He rolled his eyes.

"Normally, this is supposed to work and shut you up longer, darn it."

"Do I at least know these people, House?"

He sighed, continuing to walk and putting on his 'Monster Truck' cap.

"You'll see, come on, let's move."

———————————————————————

Wilson's POV:

I had been waiting there with Ben for 30 minutes. House was, of course, late as usual.

I glanced at my watch one last time and sighed in despair.

I looked at my friend next to me, devouring a hot dog; at least he didn't seem to be complaining.

I wondered if House had really invited someone tonight, and if so, who on earth would have accepted to come with him on a Friday night at the last minute?

I made a mental list of names, but I couldn't think of anyone capable of coming to see Monster Trucks in the company of House.

Had he paid someone, an actor... no, that wasn't House's style... was it?

Suddenly, I finally saw him coming from afar, but I didn't see anyone next to him.

When I spotted a silhouette I knew all too well.

"Wow, who's the babe next to House?" Ben whistled beside me.

I shot him a cold look that he didn't notice, too busy looking at the young woman in front of us: Y/n.

House, I'm going to kill you...

They approached us, and I finally saw her face. She looked slightly surprised to see me at first, but quickly caught herself and gave me a warm smile.

God, her smile...

She was very beautiful, with her leather jacket and black jeans that accentuated but not too much her curves. Her h/c hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

To say she wasn't a 'babe,' to quote Ben, would be a lie.

She was beautiful, young, and elegant. But it wasn't just for these reasons that I had a crush on her for the past 4 months.

She's also an excellent doctor, always very serious, ready to help her patients. Working for House requires patience, which she has, in addition to being one of the kindest and sweetest person I've ever met.

She never complains about work; she's one of the few people who can stand up to House and not let herself be pushed around. And her perfume...

Well, yes, I was falling for her, a little bit…

"Wilson, as promised, my guest for tonight," House began proudly.

"I think you already know Doctor Y/F, don't you?" he continued, giving me a look full of innuendos and challenge.

I was going to kill him...

"Um, yes, of course, good evening, Doctor Y/F," I said, stepping closer to shake her hand.

She approached, shook my hand, and replied, "Good evening. You know, you can call me Y/n outside of work," she said, smiling timidly, her h/c strands falling slightly on the sides of her face.

My god...

"And Y/n, this is Patrick, Wilson's friend," House continued, nodding towards Ben.

"In fact, it's B-"

"Anyway, shouldn't we get going?" House cut in, taking another sip of his soda.

I stopped listening to him; I was looking at Y/n in front of me. She seemed to be observing the surrounding buildings. She was so beautiful, but she seemed not to even realize it, as if she didn't mean to drive me crazy with every little gesture.

Suddenly, she turned her face and looked at me. She saw that I was admiring her.

I didn't even look away; I stared right into her eyes, and her cheeks blushed slightly.

We stared at each other like that for a few seconds before House, with a mischievous smile, looked between us and said:

"Alright, let's go people”

The evening was going to be long, very long, and complicated...

———————————————————————

Alright my honey pops, I've managed to find a solution. After my desperate message yesterday, I started thinking, and I decided to divide this story into 3 parts. It seems simpler and better to me because otherwise, part 2 would have been too long. Plus, it gives me a bit more time to finish the 3rd part. So, I'll keep a bit of suspense 🫢… Anyway, thank you for all the support; I don't think you realize how much it can help an author gain confidence. I hope you enjoyed it!!

Tags: @x-uno , @marauderingpaige , @ieatbarsoap , @silverwillow67 , @totallynottrinn

[ghostinthegallery]

“This isn’t the end” for Tarzyn/Orikan (bonus points for necrontyr era)

Next prompt request! CW for discussion of cancer/oncological stuff.

###

The ink pot shattered when it hit the floor, spilling a pool of black across the stone tiles. Trazyn cursed, began reaching down to pick up the ceramic remains, but his long sleeve caught the edge of the paper on which he had been writing. That fell too, landing in the dark puddle. Ink saturated the page, erasing hours of calligraphic work.

”Damn it,” Trazyn swore. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Most of his blasphemy was not towards the ruined page, although that was frustrating. No, primarily he cursed at his hand which refused to stop shaking. 

“It will only get worse, I am afraid,” the oncomancer had said. “Motor function will fail first.”

First, which implied something else had to fail second. Trazyn tried to forget the whole conversation as he grabbed a rag to clean his mess. It was well past midnight, so he could not summon a servant to deal with this. He had come to the palace’s library this late specifically for privacy. So that no one would see the difficulty he had holding a pen or a brush. He wanted to be able to take his time, wait out the tremors and maybe finish some of his work before he—

“Having some difficulty, old man?”

Trazyn’s heart sank. Of course if anyone had to see him like this, hunched on his knees, turquoise robes stained with black splotches it would be him.

”Orikan.” Trazyn sat up, tucked his hand into his sleeve to hide its quivering. “You’re up awfully late. Are the stars going to tell you about the weather next decan? Or perhaps some scion has asked to pick out their most auspicious marriage prospect? I hear you’ve become quite an adept matchmaker lately.”

Orikan’s brow wrinkled in annoyance, disturbing the single eye tattooed across his forehead. There were other such marks, cryptek nonsense, scrawled like tears down his cheeks, around his neck, and along his arms. Those were the only ones Trazyn had seen, though he imagined there were more, hidden under the white and blue robes draped loosely over Orikan’s frame.

”You lords are a petty sort,” Orikan said. “That I am forced to indulge you is a trial, but one well worth it given the benefits to my actual work. And at least I am not stuck copying old poetry like some temple scribe.”

Normally, Trazyn would have come up with some retort. Pointed out that he was in fact reproducing the last illustrated copy of the The Book of Sixes, the earliest recorded example of necrontyr poetry written in hexameter. And Orikan would have rolled his eyes and they would have argued until some other scholar came and shushed them, but tonight Trazyn could hardly summon the will to speak at all. 

“Perhaps it is a waste of time,” he said, looking at the ink-soaked page. “When one doesn’t even know how much time is left.”

“I see old age has made you melancholy,” Orikan scoffed.

Trazyn did not feel as if he had been alive enough to be called old. Just a handful of decades. How could that be considered old? The Old Ones, damn them, had lived millennia and more. They were old. Not him. 

He had outlived so many of his contemporaries and still it was not enough. 

“You will no doubt be thrilled to hear that barring unexpected circumstances you will be the victor in our rivalry,” Trazyn said. “I will not be able to defend myself from the tomb.”

“Stop raving.” Orikan walked past the shelves of datascrolls and paper manuscripts to stand over him. “I always did suspect the sun was taking your wits.”

”Not my wits just yet.” Trazyn lifted his hand and let the silk fall away to reveal his trembling fingers. 

Orikan’s eyes went wide. “What is this?”

“They say the sun attacks the limbs of the worker, the heart of the warrior, and the brain of a scholar..” Trazyn let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “The oncomancers say the larger turmor is growing against the nerve center governing voluntary muscle function. That will go first. Once I can barely move, my memory will likely desert me next, then speech, and then—”

“Stop.”

To Trazyn’s shock, Orikan dropped to his knees. He seized Trazyn’s quivering hand, tightening his grip until it was almost painful. Dark ink soaked the diviner’s white robe.

“Coward,” Orikan hissed. “You think you can escape our conflict so easily? A martyr, taken in his prime by sunsickness. How convenient for you.”

Despair shifted into anger. “I did not develop a brain tumor to spite you, astromancer,” Trazyn snapped. “Nor can I will it away.” His breath hitched. “I am going to die. I am going to die soon, with so much left unfinished.”

“You are not going to die.” Orikan leaned forward, dropped his voice so low Trazyn struggled to hear him. 

“Is that what the stars tell you?” Trazyn said. “I fear they’ve deceived you.”

“You are not going to die,” Orikan repeated. “None of us are.”

The scent of perfumed incense filled Trazyn’s nose. Orikan always smelled of incense and clean night air. It was one of the most irritating things about him. He was uncouth, uncultured, abrasive, spiteful. And brilliant. Tenacious. Beautiful. Half of the time Trazyn wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle him or—

“Orikan—” Trazyn began.

Orikan grabbed the beaded front of Trazyn’s robe and yanked him forward. Their lips crashed together. The kiss took him off guard, but he did not pull away, even as the force of it pressed painfully against his teeth. The warmth of Orikan’s mouth, the taste of him, drove out all other thoughts. For a brief second he forgot anger and despair and death.

”What do you mean,” he muttered against Orikan’s lips. “None of us will die?”

”The Silent King has a plan,” Orikan replied, wrapping his hand around Trazyn’s neck, deepening the next kiss. “He has found the power to take the secrets of immortality denied to us. He has asked me to read the plan’s future, but he is sure it will work. And when it does…” Orikan looked into Trazyn’s eyes, his gaze piercing and green. “This isn’t the end. Don’t you dare leave me or let that damned tumor take you because this is not the end.”

“Why Orikan,” Trazyn said. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

“I care about proving once and for all that you are a vainglorious fool.” Orikan huffed. “I cannot do that if you retreat into death.”

Trazyn pressed his hand against Orikan’s cheek, drew him back into another kiss. More gentle this time. 

“I’d best survive until then,” Trazyn said.

His knees hurt from being forced against the stone floor, but Trazyn did not care. There was always a little pain when it came to Orikan. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself without it.

It seemed too good to be true. An end to death, to suffering, all the time Trazyn could ever want. Alongside a rival who would ensure not a single moment of immortality was dull. He was not sure he believed it. Coming from anyone else he would have considered it madness. But this was Orikan. The stargazer was a fool in many ways, but in this moment, Trazyn believed him.

For the first time in years, Trazyn felt true hope. This would not be the end. Not of him. Not of his work. Not of the necrontyr. 

And, as Orikan dragged him up from the floor with a strength that belied his slender frame, Trazyn realized this was not the end of their night together either.

[double-0h-no]

Doctor's Note

Prompt fill for both 3000 words and medical staff. This is a… very different kind of thing. Not my usual perspective, not my usual style of writing, but hey, this here is to try new things, and I had fun writing this. I hope you enjoy :)

on ao3

What's it like being a Doctor for Medical at MI6? Well, it goes a bit like this…

Hi. You must be the new Doctor working here, right?

I'm Hermine Dalton, pleasure to meet you. I've been with Six for longer than I'd like to admit to, and I'll be showing you the ropes the next few days and weeks. So, if you've got any questions, fire away. Should I at any point not be around, the nurses know more about the way of things than I do. All right, let's not dawdle. And welcome to the team.

***

Right, so we have a couple of divisions that you're not really used to from a normal hospital, and obviously, we're completely lacking others. No paediatrics, no oncology, stuff like that. A lot more forensic medicine and maybe in ways you're not entirely used to. And we have an intersection with Q-branch, if you're interested in that, namely with R&D where we have some guys who work on toxins and antitoxins and some creative biological weapons. That sounds a lot more malicious than it is, the creative part is mostly about how to target it and prevent the agents from accidentally injecting themselves with it or something similar. Should you wind up there at some point I have one advice for you: Trust the Q-branchers there. If they say "we can't do it like that, the agents will totally do this and that with it", no matter how outlandish it sounds, trust them. They know what they're talking about. All safety regulations are written in blood, and all that.

***

So this is where you'll start out. I know it's not the most exciting, but it'll give you a bit of time and peace to ease into things. So, most of this is from some sort of ongoing investigation. We have a colour coding system for prioritising those things, there's a list on the server. Take your time familiarising yourself with everything, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it fast enough. Tomorrow you can join me for my round with the current patients.

***

Good morning, so glad you'll join me. So, we don't have a whole lot of patients at any time, usually not more than five who are supposed to stay here. When I left last night, we had six patients, let's see how it looks this morning.

Why? Oh, let's just say there is a certain type of patient who is less than inclined to stay put.

Stop them? Oh, no, love. We... it's a recent thing, admittedly, one I've managed to painstakingly build up. It's... Let me explain this to you over a cup of tea after. Let's see the patients first, yeah?

***

So, that's them. Only four patients left, admittedly, but I would have made that bet. Let me show you what we do now.

Of course we'll have a coffee over it. What else is there to do? And we'll take a look at this nice little document there. Okay, so the people who were here last night and aren't anymore, that's Agent Booth, and 004. So, Booth wasn't hurt too badly, he was supposed to stay because we suspected he might have a concussion. He has a wife here in Six, she works in accounting, and they have two kids. So him not being here just means that he wants home to go and see them, and I sent his wife an email when he was admitted. She knows about his medical status, I'm not worried about him, so we'll let it go. Prep the paperwork for him to sign as soon as he's back at work, backdating it all, so that the bureaucracy monster working on the fourth floor is fed and satisfied.

Now, 004, that's a different thing. She had a... Sorry. Sometimes the job still gets to me, too. But she had a... fucked up mission. I don't want her to be alone for even a second, and she's in no good condition healthwise, either. What I do now is, I pull up the Double Oh roster, and check where 003 and 007 are. Three is out in the field, so that road's blocked. Seven is in London. Great. Let me just text him real quick.

Okay. That's done. And now we can only hope and pray.

How I know what? Oh, the mission. Yeah, no, we're not supposed to - hm. Hm. See, that's... It's easier to do than you might think. And not all agents take it too seriously. I know you've only been here for two days, and you already picked up on the reputation of Double Ohs, but...

Yes, they are the worst patients you could wish for. Horrible. Rude. Don't keep to any of your orders. But... They're our patients. I care for them. And with most of them, I've managed to build a rapport. They trust me with details of their missions, so I happen to know more than I'm supposed to. Sometimes, you find out things because you treat them. You'll get practised at it eventually, recognise certain types of injuries, all that. And other times, you have to ask, because maybe they've ingested something, or you need to know what happened to be able to judge how deep the injuries might be, how likely a concussion is, questions are important.

What that third column is? It's their handlers. Let's go through the list real quick. You will not be needing it for a good long while. Treating Double Ohs takes a bit of time until you're at a point where you can make decisions for them without them raising hell on you. But I hope the insight will help you a bit. So the first two columns are the agents and their designations. The next two are their usual handlers. They might change in between missions, but those are the two they trust the most.

If an agent comes in and they are in a really bad shape, you contact their handler as soon as they're stable and look human again. Q-branch needs to know that their charge is home safe and sound. If an agent acts up while they have a bed here, just being a little bitch, pardon my French here, you can also call their handler, and they usually get the agents in line. Do it surreptitiously, though. The agents have not yet caught on to me strategically ordering Q up when I need to get them in line, and I'd rather keep it like that for as long as possible.

Next column is significant others or people that the agents themselves have cleared for me divulging medical information and all. It's empty for a lot of them, but that's usually not as much of an issue as it sounds.

Next columns are people to send after them if they pull a runner. That one I know by heart. The trick is finding out who's available. Scarlett's first contact is, and always will be, Tanner from admin upstairs. Don't know why, I don't ask, don't care. But Tanner's busy, and I have the feeling that she would appreciate someone who knows what it's like to come back from... that. So one of the other Double Oh, then you pull up the roster, check whether they're in, and Bob's your uncle.

Okay, I know that was a lot, but you're a quick study. I know you've heard all the horror stories about our most notorious patients but... Well, I'm sure you'll figure them out. Just don't -- Don't listen too much to others.

***

Oi, come over here, I need another pair of hands! Don't just stand there, it's only blood and there will be more if you don't put your hands right here!

Thank you! Fuck! Fuck!

007, get out of the way now, you did your part, we'll take over from here. We've got her, she's safe.

***

Fuck, I need more coffee. Thanks for that. Sorry for just jumping that on you and barking orders but -- Oh. Yeah, thanks. That doesn't usually happen, mind. By the time we take care of the patients, they're usually not in any immediate danger anymore. We do surgeries, but they're stable, not bleeding out anymore. At least when they get a medevac. 007 has a horrible track record of dragging his sorry arse all the way to London by himself, no matter his physical state. But still... This is not a regular occurrence. Hold on --

Bill? Yeah, she's in room two. She's not awake yet but I don't think she should be alone. Yeah, I sent James after -- Oh hush, you know better than that. She badly pulled those stitches of hers and -- Yeah, I think so. I mean she had wet hair and was scarcely dressed, so... Go see her. Can she stay with you, if she doesn't want to hang around? I'll make sure no one's watching. Thanks.

***

Now, how was your first week? Eventful enough? Exactly what you expected from working at Six?

Yeah I bet. Hope we haven't scared you off. Have a nice weekend, and see you on Monday.

***

Oh, hello. Had a nice weekend? What can I help you with?

What was that? Oh, yes, that's... Yes. I see. Of course. Let's... I'll be right with you. What did you say that they did in Q-branch that caused this?

Right. Of course. Just a regular Monday morning, right?

***

I'd like you to assist me this afternoon, if you don't mind. We've got 007 coming in from his latest mission and he's being transported back in with a medevac. It's not too bad, nothing you haven't seen before in clinic.

***

So, how was that for your first foray into Double Oh field medicine?

Oh no, I dare say he was perfectly pleasant, actually. Oh you sweet summer child. No. That was him being kind.

All right, now, what do you know about the mission?

No no, not the things that Bond told us, however begrudgingly. The rest.

Like what? The wound on his shoulder, for example.

Oh no, that's... older. That shoulder is just banged up. If you want a case study in "how is that human body still moving?", I recommend the files of 004, 007, and the previous 006. He retired, so he, too, is still moving around, just not in active service anymore. No, what I mean is the cuts that we tended to. What happened there?

It's all right, there's no shame in not knowing. I've spent years here learning to read between the lines, and you can do your job without ever questioning the pattern of injuries. Now, what I gather from those wounds is an explosion. The way those scratches were scattered, the kind of shrapnel we got out of the wounds, it all looks like an explosion inside of a building.

Then there's the bruising. It's on the opposite side, so that suggests - exactly, the blast probably flung him into a wall. There were marks on his thighs and arms that suggest close combat. The marks on his neck were the thing prompting me to ask whether wants to get tested.

Why I offer? Most agents are really conscientious about that part. Not 001, but then, I never have to treat him, either. He's sexist like that.

Thanks for your help, by the way. Don't count on Bond hanging around for the night, though. He's mobile enough, he might make a run for it.

***

Oh, hi. Sure I have a moment, what's up?

Whether what--? Oh. Oh!

Right. Sometimes I forget you've not been here for ages with how well you've managed to settle in. No, no, take the compliment.

So Q snuck up here with dinner for Bond yesterday evening? That's kind of him.

Did he? Well, usually I'd say, do with that what you will, but remember one thing, in this very specific case: There is such a thing as plausible deniability. Should two people who work together as closely as an agent and their handler be in a relationship, that might end their working relationship here. There are precautions to be met and everything. Unless that's inconvenient, because they clearly work well together and who would disrupt that. So sometimes, there's nothing where there's something, and everybody knows unless someone comes asking, you see?

Yes, they are. It was the most exciting thing I've seen happen here. They're actually good for each other, if you can believe it. A lid for every pot, as my gran used to say.

004 and Tanner? Oh Lord, no. She's the godmother to his daughters, though. I think they served together. Oh, yes, Tanner's a military man. Doesn't look like it, does he? No, from what I know, they were in some deep shit together and have been inseparable ever since.

Other gossip? I mean, someone probably warned you about the Double Ohs being prone to sexual advances, especially if they think they can wheedle some special treatment out of you. Everything else, I won't tell. I'm sure you've caught plenty on your own.

Now tell me, how's your first month been? Ready to take on your own patients?

***

Hey, could you fetch me a rape kit real quick? I don't want to leave her alone.

She's an agent, she says she's fine, all part of the job, but... She's only human, too, you know?

Thank you.

***

My goodness, I've got to tell you what just happened. So, you know how Nomi's currently here? Well, she just woke up, incredibly high on pain meds, and I went through the usual questions, who are you, do you know where you are, what day is it, and she answered it in absolute Double Oh fashion, and then we got to the current events question and i asked her who the current prime minister is, and she just groaned and mumbled "Don't make me say it'' and I think that counts, too, doesn't it?

Anyway, Miss Moneypenny showed up shortly after, awfully chipper for a Friday afternoon, and spent over an hour in there for the debrief. A bit long for a person who can't string two coherent thoughts together, don't you think?

***

Hey, can you take over Trevelyan's check up for me? My sister's in town and I'd love to meet up with her if you -- Oh thank you so much, you're a lifesaver.

Have you ever had the pleasure? No? Oh, well, it's rather easy, though he might try to get under your skin. Don't let him, he's all bark and no bite. Terry will be here, too -- yeah, PT, that's him, and Camilla from Q-branch -- I know, I know it sounds like a big thing, but it really isn't. Just routine check up, we just all pool together because it's more convenient. Trevelyan is Q-branch's test bunny for their new prosthesis that they're trying to link to his neural pathways and muscle impulses to use a robotic prosthetic that can react to those impulses. Mostly it's Camilla and Trevelyan talking and you and Terry looking pretty until your expertise is called upon.

Yeah, they're actually on to something there. Last time Alec started asking whether they could weaponise the thing, and I'm living in fear ever since.

Oh, right, that was before you. Trevelyan was 006, not too long ago, and he has a propensity for arson and explosions.

Still has, I meant what I said. He occasionally helps out in Q-branch. Those are usually the days when the fire alert goes off somewhere in the building.

I have a note with my standard questions and procedures for this meeting so I don't forget anything, I'll forward that to you. Alec will answer the questions before you can ask them, he knows them by heart.

Thank you so much, I owe you one. No, really. If I can jump in for you at some point, please let me know. All right. Thanks. See you!

***

Yeah, I heard. How... Well, stupid question, but how bad is it?

It's crazy, isn't it? When it's agents, that's no big deal, but Q? I ran into James -- Yeah, probably why he didn't kick up a fuss. You're welcome, but it really only was a coincidence. That man looked murderous, and I would know.

Yeah, he's in there with Q now. And I don't think he'll leave his side. I think M officially assigned him as Q's security detail now. We'll have to take care of the visitors. Not too many and all that. Not a problem we usually seem to have, but there's a first time for everything, huh?

Anything broken?

Cracked ribs are a bitch. I bet he's glad it's not his fingers. God, that's morbid. Okay, I gotta get going. I've got a meeting with the Head of Department.

Don't call him that! You're insulting those old and cranky dragons with that comparison.

Yeah, I also shudder to think what this is about. I'll let you know as soon as I'm done. Take care of the head boffin for me, will you?

***

I know, I can't believe it either! Head of Medical! Look at me, having even less time for my patients from here on out.

No, it's... Wow. Still can't believe it. Then you've got a new old and cranky dragon to complain about.

Thank you so much.

Hey, what would you say to a promotion?

***

I can't anymore. Just shoot me, please. Or let me take a good, deep breath from one of the funny gases we have around. Chloroform, nitrous oxide, I'm not picky.

I mean, I knew that the budget meeting had the potential to be my Waterloo, but this... It's so disgusting to argue for a budget that's supposed to keep people alive. No, we can't cut back on our expenses for the blood bank, we actually need that considering the state of our agents. Goodness.

***

Come on, hon. Go home. You did what you could, and nobody will feel better if you run yourself ragged. You did well. Good night.

[levikra]

I have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukosis aka Blood Cancer

buckle up :D

This post should've been here for sometime now cuz I prefer keeping everyone updated across all the platforms that I use as an artist.

So - Hi! My name is Evein, on 1st of May 2023 I turned 21 and since then, from 5th of May my health decided to pull a quick one on me, propelling the events that currently make me reside at the hospital with an oncology.

It all started with a tonsillitis-like fever, accompanied by furunclosis in three places on my body, a high fever that lasted for 5 days in the first half of May itself and other unpleasant symptoms. It felt weird, I've never had such an intense streak of sicknesses kick my ass like that, but of course - I went to doctors to get checked, the classic blood testings and general examinations and stuff.

That's when on 10th of May my blood test was checked by a dermatologist regarding my furuncle problem and - after some brief moments of her talking with the main doctor at the clinic - I was rushed to the governmential hospital due to the fact that my blood results had... no white blood cells. Literally 1.83 at the accepted range being much higher than that.

Needless to say I was fucking shocked, I've never dealt with the severity of the situation and let alone while being completely on my own as a human person (working, living, providing for myself, you call it).

At the hospital, after several examinations and another blood test came the recommendation paper that doctors signed with urgency, first and foremost I needed to get to an appointment at the hematologist's. That I did on 14th of May and since that point of time, till 19th, I'd been monitored, given antibiotics for my tonsillitis-like symptoms, along with my furunclosis and after 19th we ruled out the condition to be leukosis, became my white blood cells started coming back to normal with the antibiotics aiding my immunity, but despite that - thr condition still seemed as something more reminiscent of mononucleosis (which, however, in another blood test was disproven).

After exactly a week of feeling better, albeit dealing with leftover anemia, I started developing the same symptoms back and even worse, to the point of losing consciousness and thrwoing up in an elevator on 29th of May after going out for the second pack of antibiotics my hematologist had then already approved of to use to help out.

That's when I was rushed to the hospital again and - the next day - my hematologist arranged an appointment at the big clinic that has an oncology ward specifically for my situation. On 1st of June I was officially admitted with Acute Leukosis (the diagnosis doc attached is in Russian).

Since 1st of June the treatment has been ongoing, I've received three rounds of chemo along with supporting hormonal abd antibiotic therapy. Me is balding too, ofc. :D

And thus, this story leads to a logical question - what's now?

It's day 24 of my treatment, out of 4-6 weeks of inital induction period of leukosis' treatment (the overall chemotherapy to destroy tumor cells down to <5% in my bone marrow). After the induction period, if it's proven to lead to remissions - I'm then admitted out to certain periods of time in between infusions + need to take supporting medicine by myself (hence buying it too).

As an independent freelance artist who's existence is tied to being able to do creative work out of, well, any circumstances, I was sadly forced into situation of asking for monetary support, simply because it's stupid to expect to break your own back trying to work harder when you're body is collapsing on itself.

I have a goal on Boosty open for donations and I deeply appreciate ANY and I mean ANY traction of this post. I made a similar thread on Twitter covering the situation and have recieved a lotnof incredible support that has helped me a LOT so far, but my treatment is ongoing, or to be precise - will last in its entirety for 2-3 years. With the momentary help I was able to secure my living situation and get my pet cat to live for the current time period at my friend's, but you understand how that is just a temporary measure and, of course, I don't plan on stall myself - I simply just can't afford that even while hospitalised.

BOOSTY is very sus when it comes to singular donations higher than 120$ but if you happen to donate below that or in several different ones to bypass their antifraud system (only if you wish to) - the link to a goal is here -