#someone with my voice & body asked if they had a primary care physician taking new clients

[pragmagician]

Hot Take

I struggle with a weird combination of Brain Problems, including- but not limited to- Anxiety & Depression. (“Struggle” is an interesting word that is often used to describe this experience, but I find it lacks the OOMPH to properly convey what’s going on. Does anyone have a better word/ phrase?)

Anyways.

Often I find myself dreading a task. “What if I talk to that person & they think I’m stupid/ lazy/ hate me? This is so awful, I wish I could disappear.”

But yknow what??

I’ve jumped off of a rocky ledge into water of an unknown depth before, & I could do it again. Literally & figuratively. This summer, I paid $200 to jump out of a plane with a few other people who also paid to do that, while strapped to people who jumped out of planes for a living! I have also contemplated the end of my existence, & how I might personally achieve that!!

The point I’m shouting about is this:

Anxiety & Depression make it very hard to imagine a successful outcome for literally anything I try to do. Usually I feel that despair & think, Why even try? What if I try & fail? How terrifying it would be, to reach that failure. But if I can perceive my own death as something that I may or may not embrace, which is so much more terrifying to a good portion of the population, what’s stopping me from doing something slightly less terminal?

What if I did one scary thing a month? Biweekly? Once or twice a week? Daily??

What if I could convince myself that making an appointment is just as dangerous/awful as other things that I have already managed to survive, & thus convince myself that I can do that?

Turns out, if I apply the same thought process to talking to people/ making appointments/ applying for school as I did for that time I jumped off a cliff, it’s... I won’t say it’s any less terrifying, or easy, but it is something that I can survive. Which is more than can be said for a lot of the other things I’ve imagined when I purposefully don’t buckle my seatbelt.

It’s my personal goal to keep reminding myself of that fact.

Of course, not everyone has the same experience of intentionally falling from great heights. But everyone has experienced something personally Bad & lived.

Think about that Bad Thing. It’s pretty BAD, right? You might not like the person that came out the other side of it. But you’re still here, & that is a triumph & testimony to your personal strength- regardless of how strong you currently feel.

Now imagine doing something scary that would probably benefit your continued existence; taking a shower, going outside, sending a text, calling a friend. Is it worse than what you’ve already experienced? Is it about the same? You’re still alive! Go do that scary thing!!

I can say with 99.99% surety that you will still be alive after the scary thing.

(The .01% chance is because of Anxiety & because I don’t personally believe in absolutes, please don’t take my own fear as a reflection on your life expectancy.)

I BELIEVE IN YOU!

[fishmongeringstudies]

the year i turned twenty i stopped waiting for someone to save my life and started eating more vegetables

in the winter of 2018 i got a root canal done on the molar in the upper left-hand corner of my mouth. it had been on the verge of death for a while now; two years prior to that a visiting government-sponsored school dentist had taken a look at it, frowned, and then spent the next two hours wheedling all the rot out of that tiny black hole with a drill. unfortunately the solution he imposed was both extremely painful and temporary, and so two years after the initial incident i found myself once again at the dentist's (this time at a clinic; school dentists don't like to deal with the extra-gritty stuff and are not paid enough to do so). they stuck a needle in my gum, numbed three-quarters of my mouth, then drilled a hole through the center of my tooth and ripped the withering shred of nerve-tissue right out of it.

my dentist helpfully explained all of the above to me during our consultation session in the same office in which he would rip the top half of my tooth off a week later. he was a balding, smiling man whose speech did not, unlike many medical professionals i had met over the years, have an edge of condescension to it. i liked him. i would have liked him more were he not planning to essentially castrated my tooth.

several weeks later i went to another dentist who specialized in helping people in post-root canal limbo, and she stuck a shiny metal crown on what was left of my molar. we then scheduled a series of check-ups to ensure that the crown had not flown off its liege while i attacked an ice cube or something similarly bad for my teeth and mental health, which stretched on for so long that she became, more or less, my primary dental care physician. at first the check-ups were a month apart. then two. time passed. her hair grew longer and our conversations less awkward; she was beautiful and snarky and looked like she would shoot god without hesitation if he stepped into range of her gun. she wore her hair short, red tinged with gold, in a pixie-cut that fell over half of one eye. for a while i thought i was in love with her.

'do you floss?' she asked me on my second check-up.

'no,' i said.

'well.' she broke off a length of dental floss and began to wind it around her fingers. it looked like a death threat and she looked ready to kill, though her eyes were smiling. 'you should.'

for the first year after having an utterly destroyed tooth brought back from the brink of death via a grisly temporary solution that would, at best, buy me one or two decades of peace, i didn't. i didn't floss because when she did it for me in her tiny examination room my gums bled so much it took hours for me to wash the bitter taste of iron out of my mouth. blood is a nice concept and a nicer motif in writing. but it smells awful, and it's worst on the tongue. so i didn't floss my teeth, and i went through life with the kind of casual detached disinterest with which i had approached most things up until then. at my next check-up she asked once again if i had been flossing and i lied that i had. after poking and prodding around in my mouth for a few minutes and taking a scan for good measure she gave me a look and said dryly, 'you haven't been flossing at all, have you.'

disappointing your parents, your favorite high school english teacher, or even your best friend is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment that comes from knowing your beautiful dentist asked you to do the bare minimum, and you failed to deliver. her voice was arid but we had known each other for long enough by then for me to detect a thin undercurrent of disappointment. i had done it. i had lost the support of the only person in my life who could be counted on to support me. because i paid her for her services. and she was also very funny in a quiet sarcastic way. and she was beautiful.

having had my ego wounded beyond description i resolved to floss from then on and succeeded in dragging my poor aching gums past the bleeding stage to a point where they were merely post-workout sore. then i lost interest and forgot about the white, sterile-smelling clinic that was a fifteen minutes' drive from my house and the little pack of dental floss on the bathroom counter faded into obscurity. two weeks before my next appointment in 2020, an alarm on my phone went off to inform me of the approaching day of judgment. i panicked.

'have you been flossing?' my dentist asked as i lay back in the faded green chair and she put on a pair of new gloves.

'yeah,' i said.

five minutes later, she removed her army of dentistry equipment from my mouth with a satisfied hum. 'i see that you have.' her eyes were smiling. 'your teeth look fine. i'll just clean them a little for you.'

i celebrated impressing my favorite dentistry professional in singapore by forgetting to floss for the next two months. soon after that i got on a plane to america, and then two more for good measure in case i hadn't grown sick of sitting and burning in my own skin already, and then twelve weeks of insanity ensued, the details of which we are surely all acquainted with by now. late nights, walks in the forest, afternoons spent in the sun. mismatched footsteps and strange acquaintances. an elaborate circus act staffed entirely by misguided but well-meaning teenagers. a ring of fire.

two weeks ago i bought a box of dental floss for ninety-nine cents. i think this might be what the anthropologists call 'adulthood'. i was at target with a friend and we were getting toothpaste, which we had both nearly run out of, when i saw the little flat box of dental floss hanging from a hook on the wall. my teeth weren't particularly disgusting (they haven't been, not since i learned how to brush them properly), but they weren't beautiful. it had been a while since i had been on my own mind. for the last three months, others' pain had been my main priority, and now that we had eliminated most of them from the picture, i found myself with more time in the mornings to stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how, exactly, i was doing.

how are you doing? i asked. and the answer was i felt like shit.

while i've stayed in dormitories before for extended periods of time i always got out of doing laundry by either submitting my dirty clothes to an on-campus service which disappeared them into a hole in the fabric of reality and returned them to you a day later, cleaned and folded outside your room so the first time i did laundry by myself in america, a week after arriving on campus, i felt invincible. buying an iced chai from the cafe on a thursday morning and then settling down to work on my laptop until my first class started at noon, i felt like a character in a career advisory ad, like someone who knew where they were going and how they were going to get there. standing in front of the bathroom mirror of my summer dorm, winding a strand of dental floss around my fingers, i felt like i had aged fifteen years in the span of just one, and that just this once, it was for the better.

according to my adult friends, no one ever fully feels or recognizes that they are an adult. adulthood is an ideal that all grown children strive towards the way body-builders aim for more and more muscle mass until there's nothing left of them but a pair of well-toned biceps. there are several industry-approved ways to be an adult, but there are no suggested ways to feel like one. this is part of the gaping maw of inadequacy our generation has fallen into. this afternoon i melted butter in a pan and beat two eggs, milk, salt, and garlic powder together in a bowl. pouring the egg mixture into the pan i began to scrape the edges frantically towards the center with a spatula. the whole process took no longer than two or three minutes. by the end of it my hand was shaking.

according to my adult friends you just wake up one day and start looking for ways to re-organize your pantry and that's when you realize: i'm getting old, aren't i? and i'm getting old, aren't i? twenty's just the start of what a friend recently told me her parents refer to as 'the decade of pain'. but the beginning of something is included in the timeline of its accomplishments, too, and it takes more blind faith to start something than we give ourselves credit for. i have never used a saucepan up until today. in my younger years i often boiled broccoli or cauliflower in a small pot over an electric stove. but the butter, the eggs, the smell of fat sizzling on a pan- this is new to me. this entire life is new to me.

leaving the familiar warmth of your family home, it suddenly occurs to you how fragile life is. how everything your mother has done for you until now has kept you on the path forward, and now you have been given the keys to the basement you have to remember to buy laundry detergent before you run out. it all comes together like this: the humming laundry machines, the hand towels, the fridge full of fruit and cheese. it keeps you alive.

and it's awful. our generation doesn't know what self-care is because we're too busy trying to care for a world which tries, time and again, to kick us off the carousel of life and move on without its ephemeral teenage charges. we are bad at this 'living' thing because we often forget that we are alive at all. look out the window and the world's burning. look into the kitchen, and- quiet. this past year has done nothing to improve the paintings on the wall. we've all known hopelessness. we've all known what it's like to wake up and feel nothing at all.

and yet my flatmate has a new york times cooking subscription that she says we're welcome to borrow if we want to look up a recipe for something like paella, brownies, whatever. the other day she made shrimp scampi and when she knocked on my door and said 'i made food, if you'd like some' i remember thinking living with other people was worth it if you could sit around a table and twirl pasta noodles around your fork in silence. tomorrow i think i'll go to target again and see if i can find more acai. i miss it. i miss singapore's overpriced acai places and their stupid too-high chairs.

and i am living life clumsily, but who cares? a life is a life; all you have to do is live it. the rest can come later, after the dust has settled on the windowsill.

06.09.21

[hailbop1701]

25 Days of FicMas

December 5th prompt: Stuck in a room with someone you hate on Christmas

Word Count: 3,077

Lockdown

I know this late! I'm so sorry but my laptop decided it wanted to start a stupidly long update that took the entire day! 🤦‍♀️ I don't really like what I wrote but here it is anyway! Not my best work but someday I'll make it up by writing a detailed chapter Enemies to lovers fic. I promise

-H❤🖖

It was holiday time on the Enterprise, everyone seemed to be in a mood to celebrate. Well almost everyone, the Enterprises infamous grouchy CMO was in anything but a cheerful mood. He scowled and barked at everyone, from ensign to the Captain, so most just kept out of his way. Nurse Chapel clucked her tongue disapprovingly, “I know that this is his least favorite time of year but honestly!” she said resisting the strong urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She watched as another young ensign tearfully left the medbay; the girl quickly rushed past the Captain as he entered the room. He watched as the ensign left with a look of shocked concern, “he in his office?” Jim asked almost casually. Chapel huffed, “Yes, that was his last appointment of the night. He has officially locked himself away in his office,” she said dryly. Kirk smiled his thousand-watt grin. “Good I need your help,” he said bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child. Christine Chapel looked at the man skeptically, “and why would I do such a thing Captain?” she asked as she cleaned up the nurse’s station. Kirk leaned in as if what he was about to tell her was top secret, “It’s about Bones...and a certain engineer,” he said in a sing-song voice. 

Christine perked up and smiled wickedly, “Oh please tell me we fix what’s between them!” she groaned slapping down a padd scaring a nearby orderly. Kirk smirked, “Oh I guarantee it will fix things! They say that they hate each other, but everyone - even Spock can see that it’s a bunch of bull,” he said keeping his voice low. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the CMO’s office door open, “I’ll send you the details later,” he whispered winking. “Jim stop harassing my nurses!” McCoy snapped stalking towards them deep scowl on his face. Holding up his hand in a placating gesture Jim grinned, “Just looking for you Bones!” he said giving his friend a smile. 

Over the next few days, Jim Kirk and Christine Chapel exchanged messages and met in quiet rec rooms and corridors to finalize their plan. On the day that they were to execute, “Operation:  Lockdown,”. Christine sat at the nurse’s station, keeping a casual eye on the CMO’s office waiting for McCoy to leave for his usual lunch break. When he left she quickly sent a message to Kirk telling him to “get a move on,”  she watched as Kirk quickly jogged through Medbay’s doors into Leonard’s office; Christine watched the clock anxiously. Kirk swiftly left the office and up to the desk grinning wickedly, “part two,” he whispered before leaving to the mess hall to catch a quick meal. Christine smiled to herself as she tapped away at the most recent crew physicals. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had been a hellish day for you from the moment you woke up that morning, first you slept in making you twenty minutes late for your shift. Scotty wasn’t pleased but he let it slide due to the Holiday, and as a passive-aggressive punishment he gave you grunt work. A sudden shock brought you back to the present, cursing you shook your hand hoping to rid it of the tingling pain. A chirp from your belt made you want to cry in exasperation, flipping open your communicator you grimaced at the possible next project. “(Y/L/N) here,” you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lassie I need you to head to medical, McCoy’s replicator is on the fritz. The staff would love for you to make it hasty if ye can,” Scotty said sounding almost amused. Suppressing a groan you nodded to no one in particular, “Yeah Scotty I got it,” you muttered clearly unhappy with the prospect of going to Medbay; not that going to Medbay was a problem it was just the possibility of seeing the CMO. Putting away your tools, you close up the now functioning console. Waving goodbye to the people in security you nervously scurried to the Medical Bay. Clutching your toolkit in a white knuckle grasp your mind drifted remembering exactly how you came to be on bad terms with Doctor Leonard McCoy. 

It was after the Enterprise was rebuilt; being stationed on Yorktown already, you were offered a position on her crew. Montgomery Scott came to you with the Captain in tow to ask if you personally. Surprised at first you couldn’t help but beam and be excited at the opportunity. Sometime after accepting the position as Mr. Scotts second you were informed that you had to get a general physical done; sighing at the prospect of having to deal with Yorktown medical you kept a constant mantra in your head, “Enterprise, Enterprise, Enterprise,” as if you could click your heels and you’d be right at home. Squaring your shoulders you checked in at the front desk; the receptionist smiled trying to hide a sympathetic cringe, she indicated that you should go to the twelfth floor where the Enterprises primary physician would see you. Hesitantly you said your thanks put off by the woman's attitude and moved to the elevators with a new nervousness. 

A kind nurse (who turned out to be the one and only Christine Chapel) waited for you by the elevators. Looking up from her padd she had smiled at you warmly; most likely to put you at ease. “Lieutenant, lovely to see you,” she said, tone ringing like a bell; you smiled back before following her to an empty exam room. After weighing you and taking your height she gestured for you to hop up on the exam bed, smiling she looked up from her padd, “Alright, just wait here and Doctor McCoy will be in shortly,” and you were left alone to your thoughts. You had of course heard of the infamous Doctor of the Enterprise; the stories had to be exaggerated. At least you hoped they were. The sound of a door opening made you jump slightly; turning enough to see a dark-haired man wearing medical whites reading a padd. He was quite handsome if you were being honest with yourself. The only thing that threw you off was the deep scowl darkening his face. “Lieutenant (Y/L/N), I see that you had your yearly physical last month and that you’ve recently been here for...a broken arm,” he said in a rather nice southern drawl. You nodded, “Yes sir, broke it while fixing the wiring between...nevermind,” you laughed nervously at your babbling. McCoy raised a single eyebrow and managed to keep his scowl in place, “Engineer, huh?” he asked plucking a medical tricorder from it’s charging station across the room. You nodded sitting up straighter as he came back twiddling with the controls, he ran the scanner over your body and quickly took note of what it told him. “You idiot engineers are almost in my Medbay more than security,” he said gruffly. The statement made you bristle slightly a scowl now adorning your face, “We do what we need to, to keep things running.” you muttered sitting ramrod straight.  Doctor McCoy snorted, “ you’re all reckless and have the self-preservation instincts of a rock,” he said, not caring at all if you were insulted. Gritting your teeth you fully glared at the man now, “Yeah well Doctors can be pompous egotistical assholes but you don’t see me complaining,” you said cocking your head to the side as if you were daring him to retaliate. The Doctor glared sticking a hypo sharply into your neck. You refused to flinch or complain. Doctor McCoy tossed away what seemed to be a vaccination and dismissed you with a simple, “You’re clear,” 

You stopped before you hit the Medbay doors; blinking the memory away, you square your shoulders and headed in. You’ve been on the Enterprise for a year and you still argued with the CMO. You did your best to avoid him but something about him keeps bringing you back. The verbal sparring matches were fun and pretty legendary if you paid attention to crew gossip. He wasn’t bad to look at either, but for the life of you, you couldn’t stand the man. Literally. You couldn’t really stand in his presence, your knees would go weak and you constantly felt like you needed to throw up. Uhura and Christine laughed when you told them, they would declare that “You like him!” but you refused to admit anything of the sort. Walking into Medbay, you saw Christine puttering around checking off various things on her padd; upon seeing you, she glided over with a smile on her face. “Thank you so much for making this a priority!” she said giving you a gentle hug. Hugging her back you looked around noticing that Medbay was pretty much empty. “Where is everyone?” you asked walking with Christine to McCoy’s office, “The Holiday party,” she said giving you a look; as if you were supposed to know that. And she would be right, you winced at the reminder, “Kinda glad for my punishment now,” you muttered dryly. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was empty. “Doctor McCoy is a terror this time of year and a broken replicator means no coffee, which means my life is hell until it’s fixed,” Christine said grumpily with a roll of her eyes. You snickered at the prospect of seeing the Doctor suffer through caffeine withdrawals, “I’ll do my best,” you said after taking a quick look at the machine. Christine grinned, “I’ll leave you to it,” she gushed before rushing back out into the ward. You shook your head, ‘she’s acting weirder than she usually does,’ 

Prying open the maintenance hatch you waved a hand back and forth at the smoke that emitted from the wiring. “Great,” you muttered as you pulled a little flashlight from your kit. Turning it on you peered inside careful of the now exposed wires, “what in the freaking hell,” you said mystified. Putting the flashlight between your teeth so you could use both hands you started to painstakingly pick through the circuitry. At the end of your first hour, you had almost taken apart the replicator entirely, “I’m gonna need all new parts,” you mumbled around the end of the flashlight. “I swear I’m not going to help him when he comes crawling to me tomorrow with a hangover,” a distinct southern voice grumbled from outside the door; of course you didn’t hear him until he was already in the room cursing up a storm startled by your appearance. Yelping at the sudden noise you dropped the flashlight from your mouth and wrenched your arm free of the replicator’s insides. Yelping a second time you hold your now heavily bleeding arm, “damn it!” you cursed irritated. You heard McCoy rush towards you, he quickly placed a hand towel from the nearby sink and placed it over the deep laceration. “Keep pressure on it,” he whispered sounding almost apologetic. You replaced his hand with yours wincing only a little at the burning sensation running up your arm into your shoulder. You watched as Doctor McCoy moved quickly for the door but slammed into it because it didn’t open for him. “What the hell?” he whispered and continuously hit the door control only for it to keep denying him. He looked over at you and you shrugged, “don’t look at me,” you said butt hitting the floor feeling light-headed.

Leonard cursed again; giving up on the door he pulled open multiple desk drawers looking for his mission first aid kit. After he found it he rushed to your side again, “How are you feeling?” he asked even though he was running a tricorder over you. “Today has been shitty,” you grunted tossing your wire cutters back into your tool bag. Leonard hummed in agreement as he bandaged your arm and giving you a hypo to help staunch the bleeding even further and another for the pain. “Thanks,” you sighed holding your arm protectively to your chest, Doctor McCoy huffed and sat back so he was facing you. You both looked up when the lights flickered off and into emergency lighting. “Typical,” McCoy muttered pinching the bridge of his nose, “The room is in Lockdown,” you observed mildly. Leonard scowled at your detachment, “Do you have a communicator on you?” he asked holding back his insults and sarcasm. Rolling your eyes you pulled the device from it's hiding place on your belt, flipping it open you hoped to reach Scotty. Nothing. Gritting your teeth you tried Uhura. Nothing again. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly you tried one more time; to whoever was on comm tonight. Nothing for briefest of moments before the voice of Kevin Riley filtered through, “Kevin!” you gasped relieved, “hey I have a problem. I’m stuck in the CMO’s office can you send someone to help?” you asked sweetly. There was a pause over the line and the sound different voices whispering, “Yeah sure (Y/N) but it might take a while, we’re on a skeleton crew tonight. I’ll see what I can do!” Kevin said, his voice going pitchy at the end. 

“He just lied through his teeth,” McCoy hissed irritation showing on his face and you offered your comm so he could try. “Nothing I can do; Jim is already too far gone and is probably the one who did all of this. And he most likely has an order out preventing anyone from helping us.”  you pulled out your padd, hitting a few commands you pulled up to what looks to be a timer. You bit your lip, “yeah looks like we’re in timeout,” you said carefully leaning back so you were against the wall by the broken replicator. “Means he broke your caffeine provider,” you joked half-heartedly making the doctor shake his head ruefully. “Of all the stupid things…” he sighed. You observed him for a moment wanting to say something. Deciding against it you looked down at your scuffed up boots, “This has to be a great Christmas, stuck in a room with someone you hate,” 

McCoy’s head snapped in you up at your statement, his green eyes flickered between so many emotions you couldn’t keep track. He settled on regret and shame, “I don’t hate you,” he whispered looking down at his clasped hands. You were about to laugh but he continued cautiously as if he were choosing his words with great care. “Though you are a pain in my ass, I don’t hate you. On the day we met, I got some bad news and I took it out on you. I am sorry for that.” he said taking a breath he looked up into your eyes again. “I Found out that I can’t see my daughter unless my ex allows it,” he said hoping the explanation would ease your mind as to why he had been such an ass to you. Thinning your lips you felt sympathy wash through you, knowing that’s not what he’s after you slowly crawled to sit next to him, “I’m sorry that happened, I guess that first impression made it hard for us to get along,” you said thinking about all the times you riled the man up over the past year. There was a tense silence for the next few minutes as you both tried to figure out how to mend the bridges you had burned. “I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time creating more awkwardness. Chuckling you picked at the bandages on your arm, the blood had already seeped through creating a giant red splotch, McCoy batted your hand away and gently tightened them again. “How about we start over?” he suggested after he was done. A smile crossed your lips, “Nice to meet you, I’m Lieutenant (Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you said holding out your hand. 

McCoy smiled back taking your much smaller hand into his, “Leonard McCoy,” he whispered. “You know I’m going to need help dealing with the Captain after this, you in?” Leonard’s smile turned into a grin, “Darlin’ it would be my pleasure,” he drawled. The sudden pet name made your cheeks go red, Leonard didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He loved it when you blushed, whether it was from anger or embarrassment. He listened amused as you muttered about programming an alarm to play Klingon death metal loudly in Kirk’s quarters at three in the morning. You trailed off after trying to explain how you would do it, sheepishly you looked up through your lashes seeing Leonard looking down at you with complete wonderment. “What?” you laughed and he shook his head like he was trying to shake himself out of a daze, “nothin’ I-” he broke off the sentence and looked away embarrassed. The tops of his ears turned red; at that point, you only just noticed that neither of you let go of each other’s hands. He didn’t say anything so you didn’t either. Feeling the day hit you, you yawned tiredly and rested your head on McCoy's shoulder; “(Y/N)” the sound of Leonards’s voice made you hum, eyes closing. “After we thoroughly take care of Jim, do you…” he trailed off losing courage. Leonard growled in frustration, it made you smile. “Yeah, I’ll have a drink with you,” you murmur sleepily. The doctor snorted a laugh, “typical, you couldn’t have let me finish,” he muttered referencing past arguments where he could rarely get a word in edgewise. “It’s all part of my charm,” you yawned and moved closer as Leonard pulled his arm away so he could wrap it around you. He felt warm despite the chill in his office, he was actually happy to be stuck there with you “I don’t know darlin’ I think we need to get the Captain a bottle of bourbon,” you snorted and shook your head, “No his ego will be the size of Europa,” you mumbled drifting off. It was another hour before the lights flickered back to normal and the office door became unsealed, “not a word Christine,” McCoy hissed when the head nurse peaked in mischievously. The woman chuckled, “of course not sir,” she whispered watching as her boss gently lifted you off the floor with ease.

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[spicysoftsweet]

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself. 

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug. 

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem. 

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship. 

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them. 

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap. 

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately,  yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.” 

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool. 

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look. 

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill. 

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them. 

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out. 

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXV: Lion-Drawn Chariot

When I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t planning on saving anyone’s lives. Then again, did anyone ever plan those sorta things? Like, “so at noon I plan to go out and save someone’s life.” Nope. That sorta thing just didn’t happen. Maybe it was a Superman thing, I imagine Superman didn’t wake up every morning and go, “I think I’m going to save some lives today.”

But lo and behold, when I woke up, I checked my phone right away (‘cause I’m always on that phone) and noticed a very concerning text.

Now, you may ask yourself, “Cybele, aren’t you exaggerating?” And lemme tell you, hypothetical ‘you’, no. No I was not exaggerating one iota:

Unknown Number: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

My eyes widened and I jolted up.

“Who?” Was my first question. Some unknown number just told me they’d be dead, and they listed the address to a hotel. Flags didn’t get much redder than that.

“Okay, think, think: Sunny might have gotten a new number,” I paced about and brainstormed as to who it could have been.

Yeah. That checks out. It’s just like Sunny to go off and get herself hurt. Of course she’d want me to bail her out.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from Sunny. Probably a good six months. It was only a couple weeks ago that Ray finally gave me a call and explained the situation back at the diner. No wonder they went silent. I always figured Sunny stayed inside the diner with Ray due to the circumstances they faced, but it was true that she had trouble keeping still.

Yes, that’s true, but she’d stay at the diner with Ray if the circumstances are as dire as he said. I don’t doubt for a second that Sunny would help keep things together with Ray.

So if it wasn’t Sunny, then who? Frantic, I looked back at the phone.

What if I overslept and someone seriously was dying and now I’m too late?

Well, I could put that thought to rest: the text was only sent a few minutes ago.

“Still doesn’t give me time to shower...ugh...well, I’ll just slap on some deodorant, spray some rose water, and call it good. Whoever it is should consider themselves lucky that I’m showing up at all.”

No, that wasn’t the right attitude to have. Someone might have been dying for real.

“I’ll definitely save you,” I declared, still not totally convinced it wasn’t a scam.

To be honest, I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to get back in my plane and fly around. Even if it turned out to have been a waste of time...no, it wouldn’t have been, because I’d be doing something I loved: flying.

Way back when Ray delivered that horrible news, I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go, but he had no problem with me taking the plane with me. It may have been the case that he figured if I took it with me, others wouldn’t have a means of getting to the diner, but whatever the reason, I just liked having it around. Things just didn’t feel right without it.

Oh, and it sure was a super fast aircraft, too! I arrived at the hotel parking lot within the hour. Now, as one could imagine, it was hard to find parking, so I had to park way in the back, and I was positive that there would be many a car furious with me for taking up so much space. But screw them, I wouldn’t be around that long, anyway!

When I stepped out of the plane, I looked around to find the parking lot near empty. Just a few cars here and there, kind of scattered like a tic-tac-toe board. Guess there was nothing to worry about (when it came to taking up space)!

“This is the place, right?” I was perplexed when I walked forward. Really, what did I expect to find? I had no idea and from the look of things, there was nothing to expect. It was just some normal looking hotel. OK. Layout: some tall, gold, fancy hotel, an awning, a few marble stairs. Some of the windows on the upper floors looked a bit busted, but aside from that, it had a sheen about it. Like, pristine sheen.

I continued to walk forward, in somewhat of a daze. It was rather early in the morning and I hadn’t had a coffee or anything like that. Closer, my foggy eyes not really clearing up, then my heart thumped on high alert in a single instant: blaring sirens of ambulances filled the air.

I shifted all around and tried to figure out what the commotion was. My head turned in a rapid manner, much more than a simple shake. Then, I spotted the culprit: a small body, collapsed and lying on the ground.

Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway, those words echoed in my mind with an accelerating intensity as I sprinted toward the collapsed figure. Once I caught a better look, I filled with dread.

I recognize this person.

She was sprawled out, on her back, a fresh, dark wound on her right shoulder. Her hair was no longer green, it was blonde, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses, either. What she wore instead was a dark purple hoodie, jeans, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Fabric from her hoodie had been torn on the bottom and a fresh, gaping cut was visible and the blood which ran down from it obscured the skin of her stomach. It didn’t look deep enough to have penetrated any organs, but it was still a concern, nonetheless.

Just witnessing it put me in a sort of shudder, a repulsion which I had to fight back against. Nerves against my eyelids tightened and I felt a strain on my eyes along with a reservoir of tears ready to form from beneath the surface. It was as if a gust of wind had struck them.

I knelt down, my heart still on high alert. The rush of endorphins, not to mention the stress and adrenaline, was all the energy I needed to wake me up for the morning.

Please still be alive. Please.

I placed two fingers up to the nape of her neck, sucked up a small amount of saliva, and drew heavy breaths. Two seconds. I swear, the longest two seconds I ever felt. Rapid fire thoughts pounded against the edges of my skull. It was enough to make me wonder if my head was about to split open, or if my heart would give out, unable to handle the anticipation. My breaths were heavy to the point that I sounded like I was in some sort of frenzied state.

At last, I felt a pulse.

What a relief. What a relief. What a rel –

“Ma’am! Get away from the body!” I heard someone shout behind me.

I turned my head to see an ambulance parked (well, ‘parked’ was a little generous, as it had been swerved to its side and burnt skid marks could be seen just behind the vehicle’s tires) and two paramedics who looked ready to push me aside.

Of course. It just has to come to this.

“I think not,” I defied them, “I’m this young lady’s primary care physician and I’m going to take her to my clinic with me. She’s requested if in an emergency, then I am to come get her directly.”

They both looked at each other, confused.

“Can we see proof?” One of them asked.

I fished out a fake doctor’s license as well as a forged note. Such (illegal) methods weren’t used often, and it was never something I enjoyed doing, but it’s come in handy at times when I’ve had to bail Sunny out. Her idea, of course.

“Oh, well, uh, okay,” their confusion still showed through their voice, but nevertheless, they fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“May I borrow one of your gurneys so I can get her onto my plane?” I asked them.

“Plane?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

Acting was never one of my strong suits, but it turned out when you had just the right things to appear official, people tended to believe you. Needless to say, I got Demetria onto my plane and got right to work with the gauze.

Man, I’m really not a doctor. If only Cole-Slaw was here. She’d know what to do. Or she’d chew me out for not knowing what to do. Either way, I’m sure she’d be of more help.

In any case, she’d live. That much I knew for sure.

When I got home, I was too on edge to really do anything. I just sat on the couch and waited for her to wake up. Long stretches of time passed, and I would check in on the room I placed her in, with no such luck. It was concerning, to say the least, but I held out hope.

She needs rest. I’ll let her be.

Despite how serious it was, eventually the worry stepped aside and I got out my journal to write a couple of quick poems. Neither of them were all that good, but they didn’t need to be; their main purpose was to get my mind off of things. One of them started out like this:

Slumbers are a fickle thing.

So I go to the cupboard and pull out a box of cookies.

One by one, shoveled into my mouth.

Then I go back to bed, unable to sleep

due to the pain in my stomach.

But it was worth it.

What does it have to do with anything?

What is the meaning of sweetness?

An array of crumbs fall out of my pockets

and I’m visited by the sandman, who tells me

that he’s about to pour more crumbs in.

That bastard always gets the better of me.

Like I said, it left a bit to be desired, but I wasn’t done with it. Maybe in the third stanza, it would start to shine. But before I could get to that, I was interrupted by a rustling in another room, followed by a low groan.

I got up from the couch and followed the sound into the other room. Demetria stood hunched over in front of the bed I had laid her in. She propped herself up by holding onto the front-facing corner of the bedpost, but it was clear by the way she wobbled and her poor balance that she would fall back down onto the bed.

“Ow...ow...ooh,” she hissed and groaned, alternating between the two.

So she fell back down. Onto the bed.

“Owww...god damn it…” she moaned, adding, “I can hardly move. Ugh...I can’t believe I’m not dead.”

I shook my head and placed my hands on my hips.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as Sunny,” I scolded.

“Right, ‘cause if I’m going to have a role model, it may as well be Sunny,” she replied, deadpan in her delivery. She then turned her head and looked my way.

“So...you got my message?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah. Mind telling me what happened?” I tapped my foot.

She looked away from me.

“I’d...rather not.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear, nor really what I wanted to hear, but I respected her decision.

With her good arm (the one that wasn’t all covered up in layers of gauze), she covered her eyes.

“Can I...can I stay here a while?” She wheezed, then coughed.

“Judging from your injuries, I’m going to say you don’t have a choice. Now try not to move around so much, and please, get some rest.”

What she said next kept me from leaving the room.

“You shouldn’t have picked me up. I didn’t want to be saved,” I heard her say through her low mutter.

“I don’t believe that,” emotions welled up in me. Yes, she was in a great deal of pain, but there were quite a few mixed feelings I had. Feelings I should have held back or saved for later, when she was recovered, but I couldn’t help myself. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have sent that text.”

“I’m not worth it,” she replied, though it didn’t feel like a reply at all. It felt like she ignored everything I said, and was just continuing off of the last thing she said.

Don’t say that, I thought. I almost growled it out, but I stopped myself.

“Get some rest. Please,” I told her instead, my voice not low, but instead weepy.

She gave a short nod and I noticed tears run down her cheeks. My head hung low and I had to force myself to turn away and step out of the room. Her clear pain and anguish had me at a chokehold and I felt a tinge of regret leaving her alone like that. But if she was going to rest, she would need her space, so I pulled up the curtain and ducked my head, then left the room.

This house I bought was rather large, much more space than I needed. But I was rich and since I could afford to, I wanted to get something nice. Not to mention the fact that I was so used to living in a large airport, even though I didn’t own the airport, it was still a home to me, and I just didn’t feel at home without the wide, empty spaces.

So I lived in a tall house, all to myself. Most of my stuff was relegated to one bedroom (of which there were a few rooms; they all sat empty, save for the one Demetria was now in). If I wasn’t there, I slept on the couch. My kitchen, though wide enough to have its own “island” (I never quite understood why they called that thing in the middle of kitchens in big houses an island), but that too sat mostly empty. There were a few things in the fridge, but that was about it. I didn’t cook. I could have, but I was rich, and I wasn’t used to cooking, so I always just ordered takeout.

The room Demetria was in was kind of a little architectural experiment, as it was originally a walk-in closet tied to a separate (empty) room, but I took down the closet doors and replaced it with a butterfly pattern tapestry that hung from the wall instead. No, I never planned such a thing, but I had a bed in that little room. It wasn’t an especially large bed, as it could only fit a twin-sized mattress, but it was the perfect fit for Demetria.

As I said, I never planned for her to stay here, but I always thought it would be nice to have guests over. I mean, I had a couple friends here and there, and they lived thousands of miles away, but that was nothing for me since I had my own plane. That said, no one ever expressed wanting to stay over, all telling me the same thing, that they “didn’t want to impose” (really, guys? It wouldn’t be an imposition if I was the one offering).

One questionable decision I made was removing the ceiling light and putting a lava lamp in the room instead. Yeah, it looked cool, but the way it lit up the room and reflected off of the curtain gave the room a distinct red tint. Like the room was on fire. Considering how bloodied up Demetria was, it seemed rather inappropriate now. Hindsight, am I right?

So I sat on the couch once again and flipped on the TV. Usually it just sat there and gathered dust, something which it was rather good at, but I decided to turn it on just to have some background noise. Channel after channel I skipped through until I stopped at a local channel and noticed it was a recording of an opera titled Atys.

No, I had no idea what it was about. It was an opera, did anybody ever know what was going on? Yeah, didn’t think so. But it was nice to see all the pretty outfits, and it sure sounded pretty, too. So it was settled, I’d watch a bit of that. Then, I too began to doze off.

My rest didn’t last long.

Shrill screams forced me awake and in a panic, I rushed to the room.

I found her, sat up against the edge of the bed, a look of shock, anger, terror, or a mix of all three filled her face as well as beads of either sweat, tears, or both. Her breaths were loud and heavy and she shook in place, as if paralyzed in fear. I looked to where Demetria stared ahead, but saw nothing, only the shadow of the lava lamp which sat on a table next to the bottom end of the bed.

“Is everything all right?!” I shouted, unable to hold back the concern in my voice. I rushed over and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Demetria...Demetria…” I tried to get her attention but my soft voice betrayed me. In a conscious manner, I sharpened my voice and shouted:

“Demetria!”

She blinked and then her eyes darted around and although she still heaved, her breath began to slow down and her eyes relaxed.

“Sorry. I had a nightmare,” she stated, as if it wasn’t such a big deal.

Not knowing what else to do, I leaned in and pulled her into my chest and held her tight.

“Ow, ow. My shoulder,” she complained and I let her go just as fast as I held her.

She sat there and rubbed her left eye, then her forehead.

“It just happens sometimes. Those same images haunt me,” she continued. I didn’t know what she could have meant, but that initial bout of screaming was enough of a concern as it was.

“Was it about something that happened to you?”

She gave a short nod, then buried her head in her hands. I heard no sniffles or weeps, but the silence itself was enough of a worry.

“Do you want me to give you some space?” I offered a rather foolish gesture, but the best I could offer without knowing what else I could do at the moment. As she gave no response, I waited a few seconds, then got up, figuring the answer was “yes”.

As soon as I started to get up, though, she tugged at my arm.

“Can you stay here? I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” she begged. For added measure, she lifted her head up and gave me puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah,” I gave in. As much as I hated to admit, those puppy dog eyes were adorable. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the morning. Making sure you’re well is my main priority right now.”

She let go of my arm, reeled it back to her side. Again, there was a lull, a standstill. Neither of us must have known what to do or say next. At least that was the case for me.

“You’re probably wondering how I got like this, huh?” She spoke up at last. Her face was still obscured, her voice muffled, but it was a voice nonetheless.

“Yes. I would like to know, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”

She lifted her head up and leaned it against the wall.

“To be honest, I’d like to know, too,” she replied with a dry, hollow reply. Even though she forced a slight smile, it was clear from her tone that she was anything but pleased.

“You don’t know how you got your injuries?” I was perplexed.

“I killed someone,” she answered. “Correction: I killed quite a few people, but the one who gave me my injuries was just one man.”

“My God…” the words escaped me. It wasn’t that I was all that shocked; Ray definitely gave off “former yakuza turned househusband” vibes and Sunny was a chaotic bundle of joy who I’ve had to pull out of messy situations several times. It might have just been that Demetria didn’t strike me as the violent type, but then again, my frame of reference was rather narrow, so it wasn’t like I had a complete impression of her. Maybe that would all change once I spent more time around her.

“I know, right? Not very heroic of me. For the record, I never considered myself a hero, but at the same time, I never thought I would be capable of doing such things. Let alone willing. But here I am, I went from someone who wanted to prevent the deaths of others to causing them. So much for protecting people.”

“I’m sure you had a good reason, though,” I argued. After all, rude as she may be, I refused to believe she was a bad person. She turned to me, her lips folded into a frown.

“Do you think that makes a difference?” Her eyelids were half-shut and she looked ready to nod off. “In my mind, I did it to protect others. But there could have been a better way to go about it. Maybe I just wanted to satisfy a bloodlust. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” I echoed her sentiment.

“Even now, I see the horror in their eyes. How they were torn to shreds.”

“Are you talking about the people you killed?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then. There was still so much she wouldn’t tell me, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the details, but I still wanted to help in any way I could.

“Have you ever seen someone being eaten alive?” She asked. It struck me as odd, just as random, if not more than her previous statement.

“No, I can’t say I have…”

“It’s not a pretty sight. That shit sticks with you.”

Just what kind of things have you experienced? I was a little baffled, to say the least. Just the idea made me shudder. She rolled her eyes, then turned her head away.

“I wanted to be badass so I could impress someone I had a crush on. Then...I was exposed to things I never should have witnessed. So my motivation changed. I wanted to be stronger so I could protect others. But I admit, I still wanted to impress her, too. I’ll think about back then and think of how if I were stronger, they would have survived. Or if it was someone else who went there, someone better. Someone who wasn’t me.”

“We all have things we regret,” I tried to tell her, which wasn’t really all that helpful, I know.

“You don’t understand,” she sharpened her voice. It wasn’t quite a shout, but it still had a bite behind it. “The reality is that if I hadn’t gone there, they would have met the same end. It’s easy to play the ‘what-if’ game, but there’s no way to know if there was anything that could have been done, and somehow that’s even worse.”

She paused again, closed her eyes. Part of me hoped that she hadn’t gone to sleep just because I didn’t want her to wake up screaming again.

“I’m stronger now. I’m badass. I got what I wanted, but at this point, I’d rather go back to being how I was before: meek, timid, someone who minded her own business. Hell, I tried to go back to being her, but I can’t. She’s gone now. Every attempt to return to my old self just felt like fighting back against a current.”

“I may not know what it’s like to go through all the things you have, but I do believe that even if you can’t return to how you were before, you can still be who you want to be. Even if that person is different from how you envisioned yourself to be. Hell, I know it’s hard. I know, but you can still find comfort in who you are right now.”

It seemed like the most poignant thing I’ve said all day, and yet everything I said in that statement was something that I continued to struggle with, myself.

Rather than reply, she drew a heavy breath. Her head slumped over to her side, and I realized that she had gone back to sleep.

I felt a faint spell overtake me as well and there must have been a couple of microscopic versions of me who struggled to hold my eyelids open, but to no avail. Soon, I faded away, into the sea of unconsciousness.

When I awoke, it must have been early in the morning as a bright light shone through the room. I struggled up and found myself in much of a haze. Then, a pounding came. Well, there wasn’t one. At first I thought there was, but it turned out to be more of a notion in my head or my heart telling me that someone was at my front door. There was no basis for such a feeling, but I was compelled to follow it, nonetheless.

Through the sluggish movements, I reached for the handle on the door, then pulled it open. Upon doing so, a blinding flash of light burst into the house and I couldn’t see anything in front of me. No front yard, no dirt, no grass, no neighborhood. Nothing but the flash of light.

Soon, that dissipated, and the shapes of the environment right outside my house took hold. It was a slow process, though, and it seemed to be sapped away, or drawn in to a particular spot in the middle of my peripheral vision. Right in front of me, a little below me, until I saw who, or what was at my door: a little girl with ashen hair, soot and dust. Her large, beady eyes, like what a stuffed animal would have. Corduroy, was what she reminded me of. That little bear from a picture book way back when I was about her age. She wore a thick cloak, hood off. Actually, it might have been a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. It was hard to tell which, as if whatever it truly was, my mind couldn’t decide what to see.

“May I help you?” I asked her.

She stared ahead rather than look up at me. Like there was something she was focused on, maybe something that she wished to steal from my home.

Oh, relax. She’s probably just a girl scout and trying to sell me cookies, I scolded myself. It was all I could do to feel at ease. Not that I felt dread around her, or that she held any malicious intent, but I still felt a little uneasy.

“Can I come in?” She looked up and asked at last, her voice soft and ethereal. She also didn’t look up at all. I didn’t see her head move, but I could tell I was the one being addressed.

Careful, Cybele. She might be a vampire. You know how those little girls who ask to come in are. First you say yes, next thing you know you’re strung up on the ceiling and a flattened husk of who you were, with a pile of your blood dripping down and staining your carpet.

...I really needed to get more sleep.

“Uh...Sure?” It must have been the tiredness in me, but if I was going to get eaten up by a vampire, it may as well have been early in the morning.

“Thank you,” she chirped, or blew forth the words, like a Magpie or a wind chime. But it was also gentle, and breathy as well. Neither a whisper nor a shout. Closer to the former than latter, but not really reaching the quietness of the former, either.

Another oddity was that after that, she didn’t move. I invited her in, but she didn’t walk in. I figured that was that when I closed the door and just chalked it up to a weird occurrence.

“Interesting home you have,” that same soothing and unnerving voice returned, and I turned to see her walking through my living room. Well, I could have said that, but she didn’t wander. She was close to the door. Right behind me, in fact. Despite her not having walked in, not even floated in (like a ghost would have at least been courteous to do), she was there.

For whatever reason, I walked over near where the room was where Demetria slept, but stayed outside the door frame and remained in the living room. Whatever that child wanted, she was already in my house now and probably wouldn’t leave until I figured what it was that she was here for. More than that, I needed to know who or what she was, if she was anything at all.

“So, what should I call you?” I blurted out the question. She didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I wonder…” She looked around as she replied, “what do you think you should call me?”

“Anything?” I blinked.

“You would call me ‘Anything’?” She asked, as if entertaining the idea.

“Well, I mean, if I can call you anything I want to call you...what’s to stop me from calling you ‘Lampshade’?”

“What’s to stop you indeed.”

That still didn’t seem right. Everything reminded me of ‘be not afraid’, that kind of angel vibe.

“Are you an angel?” I wasn’t satisfied with calling her a lampshade. It was just the first thing I could think of that was next to me (there was a lamp next to the television set).

“Is that how you wish to see me?”

Another odd question. It seemed neither meant to mock, be an admittance, nor denial. Just a genuine sense of wonder.

“I…I don’t know,” I was at a loss. “At least tell me your name.”

“My name?”

“You know, like my name is Cybele.”

She smiled, even if it didn’t look like her lips made any such creases.

“Ah, Cybele, the Anatolian mother goddess. If that be your name, you may be most wonderful, indeed.” “Gee, I don’t know about that. I certainly don’t want to be anyone’s mom. No offense, but I’m not interested in raising any kids.”

“Why would that bring me offense?”

“I don’t...uh, anyway. What brings you here?” I felt like I was getting nowhere, and worst of all, I didn’t even know what she wanted.

She walked forward in a way that felt more like a glide. Despite it being one foot over the other, it was fast, but also light, and didn’t look the least bit like a run. As she approached me, for whatever reason, I fell back to the floor, and she passed right by me, into the room where Demetria resided.

I got up and followed her in. There was no reason to suspect as such, but I still didn’t want any harm to come to Demetria. Especially when she still had her injuries.

But when I saw the mysterious little girl, all she did was stare at the bed where Demetria lay.

“She’s seeing disturbing visions right now,” the girl stated. Lampshade or whatever else there was to call her.

“How do you know that?” I asked. It was probably true, though, that she was having bad dreams, but I still wanted to know the basis of how she knew. Hell, how she knew Demetria at all.

“We met once before, under less comforting circumstances,” the girl replied.

“She told me she’s been having nightmares.”

“Nightmares...little imps who ride on horses?”

“No, like, bad dreams. Like, we humans get tired, and when we get tired enough, our body starts to shut down and we let our consciousness fade for a little while. We call it sleeping, and when we sleep, we often have dreams. They can be weird and unusual, sometimes mundane, though. Sometimes pleasant and sometimes terrifying. It depends less on the content of the dream, but more on the vibes the dream gives off.”

That was weird, too. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain what sleep was. Not to mention, it wasn’t just people who slept, most animals did.

I saw a smile curve up from the side of her face.

“Thank you. I’ve been wondering what sleep was for a while.”

“What? You don’t know what sleep is?”

She turned her head from side to side.

“I’ve yet to experience it, but now that I understand the general concept, I am interested in finding out what it’s like for myself.”

“That’s odd. By the way, it’s not just humans that sleep. It’s most animals. Err...living creatures.”

She gave a single nod.

“I have met other organisms. Salamanders are one of my favorite, but I am partial to humans. They’re who I wish to study the most.”

“Are you...not human?” It seemed so obvious, but I had to ask anyway.

“I could be.”

I suppose simple questions warranted simple answers. Not that it answered anything, at least not in my mind.

“Tell me, Cybele, do you believe in reincarnation?” She asked at last and I jumped from where I stood, startled to be addressed by name.

So you know of such concepts like reincarnation, but not sleep?

“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s possible. Haven’t given it much thought.”

“What about resurrection?”

“Even less sure about that one. I’ve heard about people coming back from near-death experiences, but that’s it.”

“Recreation? Reconstruction?”

“Well, there’s facial reconstruction surgery. Why do you ask? Do you think it’s possible?”

She let out a soft laugh, like a giggle. It really took me aback that she was capable of such things.

“I don’t know, either, Cybele. I was just interested in what you believed in.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not all that interesting.”

“Quite the opposite; your perspective interests me as much as any human’s does.”

That sounded like a compliment. It might not have been, but I couldn’t help but blush and smile.

“So what do you want with her? Are you here just to watch?”

That time, as if I asked the magic question, caused her to give a definitive answer.

“I’m going to transfer some memories into her. They’ll be in an unused space in her mind, so she may not even notice.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It won’t hurt. She may have dreams pertaining to those memories, but it shouldn’t affect her personality. Not any more than her personality’s already been affected by her experiences.”

“Will it help with her nightmares?”

“Mm...it might. It might also give her new nightmares. I can’t say, as this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Still...to think you’re capable of such a thing. Are you all-powerful?”

“I could be. However, there are things I’m much more interested in than that.”

She didn’t do anything with her hands, no magical beams of light shot out. There was nothing to indicate that she did anything to ‘transfer memories’, but after a few seconds of silence, she spoke up.

“It is done,” she stated.

“What was the purpose behind that?” I was a little awestruck at what little awe I had to be struck by.

“I’m just interested in seeing what might happen,” she stated, somehow both a definitive and non-definitive answer.

She shuffled out of the room, still the same gliding motion. Once again, I followed her. She hadn’t quite gotten out the door yet, so I decided I had more I wanted to ask her.

“Wait,” I tried to stop her before she could leave. “Before you go, I just want to know: am I dreaming right now?”

“Mm...You’re not sleeping, so by the definition you gave me, I don’t believe so. Unless it’s possible to dream without sleeping.”

“I don’t know...if it’s possible,” I yawned. That wave of tiredness I felt after Demetria fell asleep was starting to hit me again. I dropped down to the floor in response to my body’s demands. It wasn’t a pained collapse, I fell on my own volition.

“I’m starting to get sleepy,” I declared. Once again a yawn escaped me.

“How interesting. Would you like to sleep?”

I nodded my head. Now I felt like the kid in the situation.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” I requested.

“Lullaby? What’s that?”

“You know, like a simple little song to get me to sleep.”

She lowered her head, as if deep in thought.

“Ah. I know one. Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are…”

With that, I drifted back off into sleep and the mysterious girl departed.

True morning was something far different.

For starters, the room was still dark. Well, I noticed light from outside the room. Of course, being that the ‘room’ Demetria and I were in was once just a big closet with no windows...yeah, it would make sense that it was still dark, even in daylight.

Oh yeah, that was the other thing: I woke up in the same place I fell asleep at in the first place, which was on the floor next to the bed Demetria slept in.

To my right was the bed. As I forced my way to a shabby half-awake state, I heard a shuffle from the bed and looked up to see Demetria sat up. She let out a low groan, her eyes squinted, then looked down where I was.

“Ugh...I just had the weirdest dream,” she rubbed her eyes with her palm and grumbled.

“Yeah?” I yawned. “What was it?”

“Well, I was in a fight with my cousin’s wife. We were both on a rooftop and she didn’t really seem like she wanted to fight, but I kept egging her on, and, well, she slashed me in the stomach, and I fell back. Last thing I remember was a stick being put in my mouth, then I woke up just now.”

That’s...disturbing?

“Huh. That is weird, indeed,” I commented.

“I know. We may not have gotten along much, but I wouldn’t want to harm my cousin’s wife. But I’m guessing it’s not so much because it was her, and it was more because of the fight I had at the hotel, and the guy who I didn’t want to fight slashed me in the stomach. Plus, my cousin’s wife did yell at me just the other night. But the context was a little different. She was upset, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Those people had no right to show up. I don’t know all the things she had to deal with, but I could only imagine how painful that was for her just to witness. As for rooftops…”

She scoffed, then gave a slight smile.

“Only thing I can recall is when I went to a place called Olympia and hid out on a rooftop to avoid guys shooting at me. Man, that place was a trip. Weird enough to have been a dream, but no, the actual dream I had felt real somehow. Like I lived it. Even if it may have just been a mishmash of various events over the past couple days...no, it didn’t feel like that at all.”

I was at a loss. From all the flakes of information she let slip, I could tell she’s gone through a lot. Much more than I would have expected from her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I had a weird dream too,” I related.

“Yeah?” She sounded curious. “What was yours?”

I thought it over. I tried to think of what was weird about it. Actually, I tried to think about it at all, but couldn’t.

“Um...sorry. I thought I was gonna have something to tell, but I forgot,” I pouted.

“Eh. It happens.”

“So,” I hopped to my feet, “how about some breakfast in bed?”

“What are you, my housewife?” She groaned.

“No,” I frowned. “But it’ll be harder to recover on an empty stomach, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get up much at the moment.”

“Are you gonna feed it to me, too?” She really wanted to make things difficult. Here I thought she’d have been more pleasant after a restful sleep.

“I...I haven’t thought that far. But if I have to, I will. Now, I’ve got yogurt and toast. That should be light on the stomach.”

She shrugged, then winced. For a moment, she must have forgotten how much pain her shoulder was in.

“Fine. I guess I can go for yogurt and toast. It’s something.”

It was settled: I made my way into the kitchen and pulled out a cup of Greek yogurt from my near-barren fridge.

“Greek yogurt, because...oh, never mind. Bad joke,” I scolded myself under my breath. Next was the toast. Whole grain, because that seemed like something she’d like.

After the bread popped out of the toaster and I had a spoon for the yogurt, I headed back into the room and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she told me, then held up one of the slices of toast and bit into it.

“Ah!” I just remembered something very basic. Something which should never have been forgotten. “You’re going to need water. Lots of water. I’m also sure you’ll need to use the bathroom from time to time. Hmm...I don’t have one of those pee bags like doctors and nurses have…”

“Ew. I wouldn’t want to use one of those, anyway,” she spat. Ugh. Add that to the growing list of concerns: crumbs all over the bed.

“OK. Well, if you need help getting up, let me know and I’ll help you. I still don’t think you should walk all that much until you’re more healed, but at the same time you’re going to need to sooner or later.”

She nodded.

“Got it. You don’t have to act like my mom. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

That kinda ticked me off, not gonna lie. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but I just had to say something.

“I’m aware of that and from the way you say you didn’t want to be saved, you know what? Maybe I really should have left you there,” I hated every word I spewed out and I felt on the verge of tears.

“I’m sor…” She began, but didn’t finish the word.

“No. Even if I’m upset, you still need help. I don’t want to boss you around, I just want to help you. It seems like most of the times we’ve met up, I’ve done things for you and helped you, and in some cases, I just wanted to be nice. But even so, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been used.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Hearing her said that just about broke me. I didn’t want to hear such a thing. Yet she continued:

“You gave me a chance, you offered to be my friend, and I never once considered taking you up on your offer. For my part, I didn’t even want a friend, be it you or anyone else. It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but at the same time, I used you. You were convenient and I took advantage of you.”

I was speechless, unsure whether to be angry or heartbroken. But all in all, what did I expect? We didn’t know each other very well, haven’t interacted much, and yet I chose to help her out time and time again.

“I...I know I shouldn’t when we don’t really know each other very well, but I still care about you,” I brought myself to tell her.

“Why? I don’t understand,” she objected. To that, I let out a hollow laugh.

“Neither do I. I just do.”

She took a couple bites out of her yogurt, then spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t,” she argued again.

“I never said that I should, just that I do,” I countered.

She scoffed, took a few more big bites of the cup of yogurt, then set the empty cup off to the side, on the nightstand.

“I’m such a hypocrite, aren’t I? Here I am, admitting how inconsiderate I’ve been, and yet I’ve been the same way as you.”

“You have?”

“I grew to care about others who never gave a shit about me. Some of them should’ve been expected, though, but I at least thought when I left that I meant something to Sunny and Ray. But no. Instead, he texts me saying he never wants me back and blocks me. Just goes to show how little I was valued. He’d probably still welcome Remora with open arms, but me? Not a chance. It’s like –”

“That’s not true!” I interrupted her. As much as I felt for her, I couldn’t let her keep going on about that. Maybe Ray didn’t want her to know, but I believed that she needed to know. “He probably told you that to keep you safe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He came clean with me about it recently, and it’s hard to believe, but if it’s bad enough that he wants to keep everyone away, then I have to believe it.”

“Believe what?” She leaned forward.

“He told me about a fog. Apparently people have gone through that fog and gotten all beat up. It’s not a blizzard, either. It’s like the air is still, and the air is warmer near the diner than the rest of the arctic. He said it’s like there’s these invisible enemies that bring harm to others. Many injured people have shown up at the diner and he’s been trying to take care of every single one, but the airport is closed off because he wants to try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Why would he tell me that, then?” She grew angrier, and the explanation had the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.

“I don’t know. Maybe he figured if you knew, you’d try to go back.”

“He’s goddamn right, too! What? He thinks he can take all that on his own?”

“I don’t think that’s the case, but even if it was, you aren’t the only one he had stay away. Where do you think we are right now?”

She looked around the room.

“I don’t know. I just woke up here,” she replied. Which, fair point.

“We’re at my house, over in Alaska. I bought it after Ray ordered me to leave. He gave me enough money to pay for a hotel, and I had enough saved up to buy my own home from all the funds he’s given me.”

“Damn, Alaska, huh?”

That’s what you focus on? What about the fact that I’m loaded? I’m totally not strapped for cash at all, it’s awesome!

“He didn’t even want Sunny to come back, but she was stubborn and came back anyway. So while I’m not quite sure who this Remora person is, I doubt he’s making any exceptions.”

She thought over what I told her, then asked:

“How long has it been like that?”

“Not long after I took you back home.”

“So months, huh? Are they still alive?”

I nodded. Thank goodness they were, too.

“Apparently it eases up sometimes, and he’s able to escort some people out, but he still wants to prevent others from entering.”

“Sounds like they’re doing fine on their own, then,” she concluded. I was rather surprised to hear her say that, considering how she said she cared about them and all. But at the same time, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to try to enter, anyway. At least not while she had injuries of her own that she needed to heal from. She didn’t need any more.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But my point in telling you all that is this: you have more people who care about you than you think. Hell, I’m willing to bet you care about more people than you think, too.”

“Heh,” she managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Now, I offered it to you before, and you don’t have to take it, but would you like to be friends?”

She looked down.

“I don’t know...I’m not really someone you’d want to be friends with. In case you forgot, I’ve killed people. I’m not a very good person.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She pursed her lip. It looked like she was ready to pout.

“Yes. I’d really like a friend,” she said at last. Elation welled up in me and I felt like I could hug her, but I resisted, not wanting to exacerbate her pain. Still, I wanted to show her how happy I was to hear that, but it would have to wait as a vibration sounded off in Demetria’s pants pocket.

“Oh, my phone!” She sounded startled. She reached in and pulled it out, then answered.

“Hello?” She answered. “Oh, hey, Ves. Can I set it to speaker? It’s kinda hard to talk right now. Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just kind of hard to hold my phone right now.”

I gulped. Like, do what you gotta do, but I felt like I’d be eavesdropping. Knowing that, I should’ve left the room. But to be honest, I kinda wanted to hear what was talked about.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you the other night,” the woman at the other end’s voice came through. She sounded a little weepy and mournful, but maybe it was just the reception.

“Don’t be. You have every right to react the way that you did. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Still, I don’t think you deserved that, either. Juniper helped me calm down and she suggested that you’re probably going through some difficult things, yourself. I want to be there for you, the way that Juniper was there for me when I dealt with difficult things. I don’t think you need to deal with it alone.”

“Thank you,” croaked Demetria in a near whisper. “Yeah, I was in a bad place. Both physically and mentally,” she looked over at me and smiled. “Now I’m only in a bad place mentally. I’ve got someone with me who’s helping me through some stuff.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at that.

“Are they like Juniper?” Ves asked.

“Sorta. Not really. It’s not romantic or anything. But I’m glad to have her around.”

“I’m glad too.”

“Thanks.”

“I just want you to know that you’re always welcome back here.”

“Thanks, Ves. I just think it’s best if I don’t right now.”

“I understand. Won’t you at least come back to get your stuff? You left it here.”

Demetria jolted upward.

“Oh shit, I did?! I’ll head on out right now!”

“No way you’re going out with those injuries,” I stopped Demetria. She was sat up and blankets pulled out, ready to hop on up out of bed. Once I told her that, she sulked.

“Injuries? Also, who was that?” Ves sounded like a smoothie blend of confusion and worry.

“Hi, I’m Cybele. She got pretty badly hurt, but she’ll survive. I cleaned up her wounds a bit and she’s all bandaged up right now, but I don’t think she’s in any state to be running around.”

“I see. That’s really concerning.”

“Yeah, well, if you want, I can get her stuff for her,” I offered.

“I don’t know...I don’t really like the idea of people I don’t know coming over…”

Fair, I thought. I bet I wouldn’t like that either.

“...But if you’re a friend of Demetria’s, I think I can trust you.”

“Great. I’ll be on my way.”

“Will do. Thank you, Cybele, and thanks for looking after my cousin-in-law.”

Ah, so she’s the one who Demetria had a dream about getting into a fight with. I wonder if I should ask her about that.

But I didn’t. She hung up and I stretched my arms.

“Looks like I’m heading out. Mind texting me the address?” I turned to Demetria and asked.

“Not at all. Thanks for doing this,” she began typing away at her phone.

“No problem. I’m sure at least some of those things are important to you. Now, before I go, feel free to wander around the house, but please try not to push yourself too hard.”

“Got it. See you in a little bit?” She asked.

I nodded, then waved.

“In a little bit.”

I flew out at once and I think the whole trip there took me maybe two hours at most? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Even if her stuff was way off in Indonesia, I’m sure I would’ve flown out to get it.

As soon as I found a nice empty patch of dirt to land in, I hopped out of the plane and approached their door. They lived in some remote place, far off from any cities or towns. Little bits of grass, some tilled farmland, a greenhouse, a shed, and a little chicken coop. Really, it looked like a nice place to hang. That said, I wasn’t sure if I could live there. As much as I was used to living in remote places, myself, I needed a certain...aesthetic that the country life they seemed to live lacked.

In any case, I walked up to the steps of their house, the wooden stairs creaked, and I knocked on their door. When the door opened, I was stunned at the beauty on display: a tall woman with glasses and near-white hair opened, and she was dressed in some kind of white robe.

“Whoa, you’re hot,” I blurted out. She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always speak without thinking?” She asked.

“No, I swear I don’t. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re cute, yourself, with that ponytail and cap of yours. You remind me a bit of Juniper.”

I wasn’t sure who that was, but soon I did, as out stepped another beauty: a woman with blonde pigtails and muscular arms wearing a small tie-dye shirt and skinny jeans.

“And you’re cute,” I remarked.

Juniper, at least I presumed, beamed a bright smile.

“Thanks!”

“Isn’t she?” Ves gestured her arms as if to present her.

“Indeed! Anyway, I think I’m getting sidetracked.”

“Ahem,” Ves coughed into her fist, then changed into a more serious expression. “Yes. I as well. Tell me, is Demetria okay?”

“Well, like I said, she’s badly hurt, but she should recover. Her wounds don’t seem to be infected, and I don’t think she broke any bones. So at least there’s that.”

“Just what did she go through?” Ves mouthed out the words.

“I’m not sure if she wants me telling you, but I’m sure you can ask her.”

“Of course. I don’t want to pry.”

“I’ll go get her stuff!” Juniper declared, then walked off. As she did, I turned to Ves.

“Did you two get into a fight?” I questioned her.

“No,” she lowered her head, and turned to the side. “The other night I yelled at her. I had a mental breakdown. But it was nothing physical.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She just told me about a weird dream she had, so I got worried.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, she said in the dream you guys fought on a rooftop, and then you slashed her stomach, and she fell.”

Ves took a step back and looked horrified.

“That’s...that’s…” She began, and it looked like I brought something out that she didn’t want to think about. “That’s strange. I don’t know what to make of that,” she said at last.

“Yeah, it was a dream, after all. Sorry, it was probably silly to bring up.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate your concern.”

I took a bow, then when I stood back up, I rubbed the back of my head.

“Oh, you know, it’s nothing special.”

Juniper came back out with a backpack and a couple pairs of shirts.

“Here ya go,” she handed them to me.

“This all?” I was a little surprised to see so little.

“Yeah, I guess she was a light traveler,” she shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll still appreciate it. Thank you guys,” I waved goodbye to them both, then hurried on my way back home.

Thoughts ran through my head as I approached the house.

Will Demetria still be there? She better, just so she doesn’t get herself hurt further. But at the same time, she does strike me as the type of person to run off.

It was a worry which turned out to be unfounded, as when I entered the house, Demetria was there in plain view: not in the room, but on the couch.

“Hey, I’m home,” I announced.

“How’d it go?” She turned and looked over to me.

“Eh, they seemed like nice people. Not really much happened. I just got your stuff, then left. How about you? How are you doing?”

“It’s been hard to get around. Had to prop myself up against the walls and stuff, but I managed. Found the bathroom and everything.”

“I’m glad to hear. I’m also glad to see you’re still here.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got a destination in mind for where I want to go next, but I’m going to wait until I’m all healed up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She seemed to be in brighter spirits than earlier in the morning. I went ahead and plopped down on the couch beside her.

“So, wanna order take-out?” I offered.

“Oh, hell yeah! I’m starving!” She roared.

“What do you like?”

“I’m cool with whatever...but also I’m vegetarian. So there’s that.”

“Fine by me. How about Chinese?”

“Totally! I bet there’s noodles and shit.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, there sure is.”

I went ahead and ordered online, then when I looked up, I gasped upon seeing what Demetria held up.

“By the way, I found this while you were away. Neat stuff,” she had a devilish grin on her face and I wanted to yank my journal away from her.

“Please don’t tell me you read it!”

“A bit. Here and there. Neat stuff. Though I’m sure I could write better.”

“Oh yeah?” I huffed.

“Yeah. Poetry’s easy. Anyone could do it. Here: ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Uhh...Fuck. I can’t think of anything else. How are you?’ See? Easy.”

I burst into laughter.

“Well, I had a good laugh, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “I get it. I’m a comedic genius. No need to rub it in.”

The rest of our night went fairly well. We seemed to bond a bit here and there, something I never imagined.

Soon days passed and she walked around more and more as the days went by. On one occasion, I found her with her laptop open and sat up on the bed.

“I’m actually thinking of taking online classes to finish up my Master’s program,” she mentioned.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal for me. I dropped out for kinda stupid reasons, but truth be told I was losing interest in my studies, anyway. Still, I don’t like to leave things unfinished, so even if I’m no longer interested in marine biology, I’d still like to complete my program so I have something to show for it. For my own sake, anyway.”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea. I support your decision,” I gave a thumbs up. “Still, sounds difficult. I don’t think I could do online classes.”

“Eh. I don’t see myself liking them, either, but I don’t want to show up in person. I feel like I’d be a disgrace to whatever campus I ended up on.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“I know...it’s just regrets and stuff.”

“I know how that can be, too,” I admitted. “Still, if you need any help with tuition, let me know. I’m pretty rich, after all.”

Gee, I really tried to brag about that whenever I could, huh?

“Thanks, but I got my own money,” she pulled out an envelope. “It was a birthday gift from...err...someone. It’s not important who.”

“If you got enough to pay for tuition for your birthday, sounds pretty important to me.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I feel bad even using it, but a gift’s a gift.”

I wasn’t going to press any more about the subject, but I was glad to hear that she was considering doing something meaningful.

All in all, it probably lasted about a month in total before she (at least said that she) was all healed up. I didn’t expect her to leave so soon, and her bag wasn’t packed, but by coincidence, I happened to be the one who sparked her departure.

“I’ve gotta say, this is a pretty cool place you got,” she wandered around the house while I sat at the couch and tried to think of another poem to write up.

“Yeah! I’m loaded! Ray paid me well!” I shouted. All I knew was that she was somewhere upstairs. “I didn’t even check my bank account before or after I bought this house, because I was pretty confident that I could already afford it!”

Yeah, it was shallow, but I had to take pride in something, I suppose.

“Whoa, really?” She called back. “How much you got?”

Out of curiosity, I decided to go on my phone and check. I figured I must’ve had like, a couple million or something? Seemed about right. However, once I checked my bank’s app and saw how much I had, my jaw dropped and I had to hold back a scream.

“No!” I wailed and kicked my legs against the base of my couch. “I’ve got less than a thousand! I’m running low on money!”

Demetria ran down the stairs and slid down the railing. I looked at her and was about ready to break into tears.

“I don’t wanna get a job!” I whined. “People might misgender me, and I might have to deal with customers. It would be horrible!”

“Why would they do that?” She tilted her head. “Oh wait, never mind. People are dumb, especially customers.”

“Argh. I should’ve checked my bank account sooner! This house cost me most of my money! Now I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“Relax. I’m sure I can get you some money to get by.”

I looked at her, my eyes widened.

“Really? How?”

“Eh. I’m resourceful. You’ve helped me out, and it seems simple enough for me. I just need your help to get around a bit.”

Of course. I mean, I didn’t know how I could trust her, but I just had to. Between taking the word of a violent friend and having to find a job...well, the answer was pretty obvious to me. That, and, I didn’t mind so much helping her out, as long as I didn’t feel like I was just being taken advantage of.

“Great. I’m going to pack up. I was about ready to leave anyway, so this is a perfect opportunity for me.”

“So soon?”

“You know me. Always running around. I’ll try not to get myself killed before you get your money, at least.”

“All right,” I laughed a little. “So where to?”

“Chicago,” she declared.

Really? Chicago? What could’ve been so good about there? Well, if she was so confident she’d find what she needed there, then so be it.

[kilodalton]

So I see a post from TikTok making its way around Tumblr about how prior authorizations are awful and corporatist and stand in the way of mom, America, apple pie, unsuspecting patients, and their earnest and well-meaning doctors. Bring out the guillotines etc etc.

I made it through the first 5 seconds of that video before rolling my eyes because frankly, dude doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

For the purposes of this diatribe informational post, PA means “prior authorization” NOT physicians assistant. So if I say “PAs suck” please do take that into consideration before reaming me out.

Ok so what are my credentials to spout off on this?

1) You can call me Dr. Kilodalton. I’m a double-board certified clinical pharmacist with a doctorate in my field on top of 2 years of post-doc residencies.

2) I work for one of the largest single-payer government systems in the world. I have ZILCH to do with corporations, capitalism, or guillotines. (I’ll let you guess .. cannot confirm nor deny my employer lol) ... which leads to:

3) I evaluate prior authorization requests as part of my job every single day. I approve them! I deny them! I sometimes say “get a load of this boneheaded request!!” and make fun of them to my colleagues! YES SINGLE-PAYER SYSTEM USE PAS JUST AS MUCH IF NOT MORE THAN CORPORATIONS DO! Hell, I even submit some PAs myself if I think one of my patients can benefit.

All of this EMINENTLY qualifies me to say, much more so than some dude on TikTok whose voice hasn’t even cracked yet: PAs are (usually) a necessary evil.

Why do I speak this BLASPHEMY?! This SACRILEGE?!? Am I a corporate shill (who doesn’t work for a corporation) who hates patients (even though I devote my career to their care) and wants poor people to die (even though I work for a single-payer system that treats people regardless of ability to pay?)

The answer is easy: I actually ... kinda know what I’m talking about. Here are some facts:

PAs can save your life: PAs are usually required for risky drugs. Just because a drug is risky does not mean the underlying disease state it is treating always balances the risk. A lot of times, safer drugs are available.

PAs are almost universally required for shiny new drugs that Big Pharma is trying to line their pockets with: New drugs get advertised all the time. Patients ask their prescribers for the drugs. The prescribers often don’t know any better and put in PA requests for them. Stunningly often, there is no reason given for the request other than “patient saw the ad on TV and asked me about it.” Yes. Seriously. If you guys support that ... you must own a LOT of pharma stock.  

PAs make things less expensive (usually). Because PA drugs are usually brand new, brand name only, and expensive AF, requiring a PA brings down costs for the system as a whole. This matters a lot -- even in a single payer organization like mine. By giving everyone -- regardless if they need it or not -- expensive drugs, less money is available to help other people. Money doesn’t grow on trees, even in single payer systems.

Your docs -- especially your primary care docs -- usually know jack squat about drugs: You would (probably) be appalled to learn that your average MD takes 2 pharmaceutical modules in med school. That’s it. Usually (but not always), specialists are much better about knowing their stuff ... but your average first-line doc does not have the training to determine what meds should be used when, how to assess their efficacy, how to monitor them, and when to triage to a specialist.

PAs make sure your doc is monitoring you the way they should: This falls through the cracks A LOT. If you are on a fancy drug that requires a PA, you probably assume your doc is regularly checking to make sure that, among other things, your kidneys can cope with the dose. Shockingly few docs do this (well it’s not shocking to ME that they don’t check, but I see it every damn day). PAs help us make sure that requested doses are safe -- often, they are not.

PAs make sure you actually have the condition your doctor says you have: I cannot stress this enough. It seems crazy, but it’s true. If you tell your doctor “I have ABC condition” they will likely add it to your medical record, even without testing you for it or looking at previous medical records you have. The problem is, sometimes you really don’t have ABC condition ... so if they try to prescribe you a drug for ABC condition when they have not independently confirmed you have it, problems can (and do) arise.

Here are just a few examples off the top of my head of boneheaded PAs I’ve happily denied. Trust me, there are LOADS more where this comes from. My former office mate and I used to half-joke we should write a freaking book. Anyway, on to the dumb PAs that TikTok dude would have me rubberstamp because TheyComeFromADoctor:

The one that would have given a patient a stroke. One MD wrote a PA for short-acting nifedipine -- a blood pressure drug that is only given inpatient because, unless closely monitored, it basically causes your blood pressure to ping-pong, ischemia to develop, and voila a stroke. I denied it because I wanted the patient to ... uh, ya know, live.

The one for dementia in a patient who did not have dementia. Some drugs are basically one-trick ponies. Rivastigmine is used for a few things -- mainly dementia, but very specific kinds. It can actually WORSEN cognition in some kinds of dementia. Which is why docs are supposed to get an actual diagnosis before prescribing such things. If I had a dime for every time they don’t check ... I would have a crap ton of dimes.

The high-intensity blood thinner for a patient whose blood ... was thinning just fine on its own. For whatever reason, a patient thought they might have a clotting condition and told their doctor. Their doctor, who didn’t double check this, and ordered them a mega blood thinner that requires a PA. We asked for test results, and lucky we did -- the patient was clotting just fine on their own, and use of this drug in that population can lead to hemorrhage.

The one that was causing an autoimmune reaction in a patient. Some drugs cause the body to attack itself, and you need to check for antibodies before you prescribe it. One doc ordered the antibody test but apparently didn’t check the results before ordering the drug for the patient ... uh. Yeah. Hard nope on that one.

The one that would have caused an overdose. Some narcotics require PAs. One doc apparently can’t math very well, and ordered a huge narcotic dose for an opioid-naive patient. Luckily a PA was required: obviously, I quashed it.

The one that would have harmed a pregnant patient. Some drugs can’t be used in pregnancy. Some docs don’t think to ask if a patient is pregnant before trying to prescribe drugs linked to fetal malformations. Luckily, I picked up the phone to double-check with the patient when I saw no recent pregnancy test in her chart. Guess what?! 

Anyway. This post is not sexy. This post is not fun. This post is not pro-pharma, and this post is not pro-corporate (again -- hello!! I work for a single payer here!!) 

What this post IS -- is chock full of inconvenient information from a person who actually is in student loan debt to her eyeballs because she kinda knows what she’s talking about.

And hopefully - HOPEFULLY -- this post is also helpful to someone.

Much love -- Dr. Kilodalton

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Prologue: The Act

Morgen sat on her midnight blue lounge chair, her back hiding the various small stars and moon decor upon it. Her face held a reserved sadness to it as she received the news. News from the royal physician regarding a recent 'affliction' of hers. He told her loud and clearly, that she was with child. This hit Morgen hard, so much that she spoke no words, even as the good doctor left the room. She had no clear idea when her faithful servants Mina and Barrcus had entered her room, but there they were.

Barrcus spoke up first, his voice clicking slightly along with his body, "My Queen....shall I take care of it?"

Morgen's head jolted a slight bit, and her eyes widened for a moment. Yet after holding her belly and some thought, "No. I shall handle this myself. Although, I must ask you occupy Uther. Please." Her voice still holding authority in it's tone despite her current mood.

Barrcus looked to Mina, perhaps for council, perhaps for answers. Sadly he'd not get either from the short and stout red head. Sighing Barrcus left the room, fearing the worst was to come this night. Mina sighed softly herself, and watched the twisted spider like hybrid of a man leave the room. Once he left she turned to her lady. Looking upon the lithe and tall woman who was trying to maintain a sense of fortitude broke her heart. She'd raised Morgen alongside her Mother Igraine, until her untimely demise. From then on, she'd been Morgen's primary caregiver.

Her musings were interrupted by Morgen standing up and stating, "The moon is as high as she'll get tonight. Let's get this over with, the sooner the better."

Mina followed her mistress closely as they took a secret way out of the castle. Heading to a carriage other maids had prepared for them. One with various medical supplies within it, along with a few moon fruits Mina stowed away from the gardens. Morgen took comfort from the warm golden glow of the seeds within the opalite colored fruit. A stark contrast with the carriage's dark interior and the chill of the winter air. Mina sat inside with Morgen, watching her keenly as any Motherly figure would their adoptive children. She knew of the dark deed to come, but dreaded it all the same. The captain of the guard in the meantime drove on until reaching a clearing outside the city. From there, he stopped the carriage and signaled to Mina via tapping the walls with his scabbard. Mina simply nodded and opened the carriage doors for Morgen. She stepped out shortly after and headed down a path without hesitation. Mina followed her down to a river, one bathed entirely in the light from the full moon. Morgen then removed her clothing, leaving it folded neatly by a tree.

Once nude, she asked Mina, "I'll need my arms bound to the trees on either side of me, otherwise I could slip into the river."

Mina nodded and did as Morgen bid her to, binding her mistress's arms to the trees. From there Morgen placed her lower half within the waters of the river. The reflection of the moon on the river soon began to brighten as Morgen concentrated. The rest of the light around everyone else in the meantime had dimmed massively. From there, this ancient and forbidden ritual had begun. This ritual was one that was used for the abortion of unwanted infants. Usually the fetuses would be left to the river to rot, but Morgen knew of a Kelpie living here. This Kelpie would aid in the macabre disposal of the child. As it came up to them, eyes glowing eagerly in the dark as it awaited this free meal, Morgen felt the pain hit her in full force. It was never painless, nor was she ever going to get used to that part.

Barrcus meanwhile occupied Uther as he was asked to. He figured his best strategy would be to suggest the thought of a party. A masque to truly show just how vast his power was.

Uther was intrigued by the idea, but naturally he inquired of Barrcus, "Will Morgen be there?"

"I'll attempt to arrange that. You know how she is with these sort of.....pleasantries." Barrcus replied, his voice sounding as though his throat had once been ripped out then placed back in again.

"Hmmmm yes, always so.....reluctant these days. Perhaps if she'd just...let loose...so to speak, she'd at last find happiness. How I do love her smiles, if only I could see them more." Uther mused after nodding.

"Well if you'd stop giving her 'pointers' then maybe she might." Barrcus hissed slightly.

Uther shrugged it off however with a simple, "Whatever." He then continued on in a threatening tone, "In order to incentivize her, maybe you should tell her that if she does not come, you'll be missing some limbs. Oh and make sure Morgen wears the dress I gave her."

"I'll try my best sir, to pass that along to her." Barrcus affirmed to him.

Uther reclined back into his chair once Barrcus went to leave. However Barrcus seemed to suddenly remember something and turned back to him, "Oh and the artist you requested has arrived."

Uther sat back up at that, "Oh has he now?"

"Yes. Shall I send him up now?"

"Oh yes yes. And make sure he's using his best colors." Uther asserted.

"I'll make sure they're sent along with him." Barrcus rasped up at him before moving along.

From there Barrcus finally left the room and went to greet the painter, who had just entered the palace himself.

"Ah Puck, it's good to see you again." Barrcus spoke with growing relief.

"Aye, so where is this ugly bastard at?" Puck posed in jest.

"Upstairs, I'll bring you right to him. Oh and the paints?"

Puck raised a hand casually before pulling them from a sachel on his side, one of a few in fact, "Not to worry, got em right here."

Barrcus sighed with relief at the medium-high Satyr, "Right this way."

Puck looked around briefly, "Who picked out the interior decorations?"

"Uther." Barrcus grumbled.

"I figured."

The two then enter the throne room where Uther was awaiting them. From there Uther greeted Puck, "Ah Puck, so how did you like the tour of the castle?"

"Eh I found it to be quite 'delightful'." Puck remarked as politely as possible.

"I am glad you found it to be appealing'" Uther replied back whilst standing up. His 'magnificent' ornate armor clinking about.

"I'm glad that you got yourself ready."

"Make sure you get every and I mean EVERY detail." Barrcus conveyed to Puck.

"Don't worry, I'll get every nook and cranny. Well at least the parts he wants to have shown." Puck reassured him.

Barrcus nodded with a simple, "Thank you.", then looked to Uther, "Would you like me to retrieve anything else sire?"

Uther thought only for a moment, "I'd like you to bring me a drink. And bring one for Puck also."

"I'll go do that."

Puck muttered, "Well ain't he a creepy bastard."

Uther heard him all the same and replied, "Yes, but he has his uses. Thankfully."

After several grueling hours for all parties, Puck finished his 'masterpiece'. Morgen in the meanwhile, had also completed her macabre ritual. Mina gently aids Morgen down from the branches she'd been tied to before moving her downstream a ways. From there she gently washed Morgen's body of any blood she could find on her. All the while the Kelpie nearby had already left with it's latest meal. After that Mina asked the Captain for aid in getting Morgen back into the carriage and to the castle. When inside the carriage, Mina began to feed Morgen moon fruits to heal and give her energy. Mina also examined her as best she could with the medical supplies on hand. Soon enough the Captain returned with Mina and Morgen. At this time, Puck had just finished the final touches and added a frame to his canvas.

Turning it towards Uther, Puck inquired, " So is it one of my finest works?"

"Indeed."

Barrcus seeing Uther distracted by the painting requested, "If you would please allow me to excuse myself, I have other nightly duties to attend to."

Uther only brushed him off and responded, "Hmm? Go on then, I have no other use for you now."

Barrcus gives a quick bow and goodnight before hurrying off in a brisk pace. Once he's far enough along the halls he hastens himself. With each step he hears Morgen panting in a mix of pain and exhaustion. Panting himself, he knocks on her bedroom door.

Mina opens it to a worried Barrcus who beseeched her, "Is she alright? What happened?"

Mina looked at him sadly, "If I told ya, you may think less of us both."

Barrcus embraces her before asking again, "Is she alright at least?"

"She'll be fine by dawn tomorrow. We just need to leave her to rest, and make sure Uther stays away tonight." Mina explains softly.

"Uther is currently occupied by his newest self portrait." Barrcus says to her.

Barrcus then takes a moment to look upon Morgen. Freshly dressed in her nightgown and doing her best to sleep through the pain. He strokes her hair in a Fatherly manner, as like Mina, he'd partially raised her alongside Igraine and continued after she died upon request. He was heartbroken at seeing Morgen this way, so....broken and pained.

He thought deeply for a moment, before sighing with a heavy heart, "If only I could see what's happening. He must have something BLOCKING MY SIGHT."

Mina placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's bigger than both of us. Than all of us in fact. You can't blame yerself for this, I can't either. We can only hope that....all we do works out in the end. If only we could get her away from here, or find someone to help us do so."

"I have an idea, but it requires that Morgen and you trust me. Greatly." Barrcus told her after a moment of thought.

"If you think it'll help her, please tell." Mina implored him.

"I think I should inform the Council of one of Uther's 'pet projects'."

"Have ya lost your fucking mind?! The Charred Council?" Mina asked in worry, her eyes having widened at that.

"If things go on the way they are, I will lose my mind. I can't take this anymore, I can no longer bare to see her in pain, or in fear. I just can't." Barrcus whimpered out.

Mina comes close to him as he's kneeling, having been weighed down by everything going on. She then surprises him with a soft kiss upon his forehead, "I have faith in you Barrcus, I always have. And so does Morgen. Now you go do what ya must, I'll come up with another excuse to give Uther in case he comes knocking. I'll stay up all night in here if I must."

"Thank you." Barrcus replied softly to her.

With that, Barrcus sends a few of his spiders to various taverns. After all what word spreads faster than those within rumors? Hoping that soon word will reach the Council, and that the Horsemen will be sent to aid them.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Comfort

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Ambrose/Omega!Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: How about a Thirst Party Saturday...Wednesday pick-me-up? I was thinking an Office!AU, with that sweet, sweet Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic we all know and love. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, the campaigner for all things LaBraun, @hardcorewwetrash!

Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains threats of rape, musings on consent and general manhandling. Stay safe everyone!]

You knew that you probably should have stayed home today.

Suppressants were expensive and you had the sneaking suspicion that your script had been cut to begin with. You hadn’t felt right for months. But your doctor always dismissed your concerns as Omega paranoia and you didn’t want to make your visits any more difficult, so you just put your head down and accepted the reports without complaint.

You were very lucky after all, you had to remind yourself. Getting hired into an office setting while being an Omega was no easy task, but you’d managed to pick up some runner work that would get your foot in the door over at King’s Game Enterprises. It was only small things for the moment and you’d had to sign a waiver before you started stating that you would keep up with your dosages or face immediate termination, so you couldn’t exactly afford to have your prescription cut with sugar pills. But you had this unshakable feeling of restlessness while making your morning commute. You were tense and tight, as though you were about to jump out of your skin at any given second.

In a burst of desperation, you decided to be honest with your boss about your situation. There was an off chance that maybe, he might understand and send you home early. His wife was an Omega and he treated her like an equal.

Maybe it’ll be okay.

You gathered up their coffee orders and a few files from Alicia, then squared your shoulders and headed for Hunter’s office. Please don’t fire me, you begged mentally. Please please please.

You heard the office door click open before you were halfway down the hall and Stephanie poked her head out. “Alright, move it.” She said, not unkindly. “Smelled you a mile away.” Your heart sank. They know. She at least waited until she’d closed the office door behind you before she started in on you. “Did you not understand the paperwork you signed? Because I can find someone to explain it to you. In perfect detail.”

You bowed your head meekly and pressed her coffee into her hands. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly the equivalent of coming in with a sore throat, but I don’t have any sick days saved up yet. I didn’t know what else to do, ma’am, I need this job so much.” You kept your eyes on the floor, blinking back tears. “I wanted to ask if…if maybe Mr. Hunter could send me home. Or even you, if you have that authority. I know it’s dangerous for me to be out and about like this, I swear I didn’t skip a dose. I-I take my meds, always, but I don’t feel right today and I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“I’ll get Hunter in here. You sit down.” Stephanie clicked her tongue. “Your script get swapped? Did they put you on the generic?”

“My doctor doesn’t give me my scripts, he calls them in himself. He says it’s too dangerous to have an Omega walking around with an unfilled script.” A tear slipped out and you quickly wiped it away, irritated with yourself. Stupid suppressants!

There was a loud knock on the office door and then it was shoved open, the person on the other side not even waiting for acknowledgment. “Heya’ boss one, is boss two he…” The person, a man with a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair, ground to a halt. His nose twitched.

“Perfect timing Ambrose, as ever. Hunter already call you?”

“Y…yeah.” Ambrose said slowly. He shook himself all over. “Whew, sorry. I’m back.”

“Wonderful, I’m so glad Seth is teaching you to be prompt.” Stephanie turned back to you, gesturing at Ambrose. “Dean is one of our Omega therapy Alphas. It’s a new program that some of the higher-ups initiated for the safety and comfort of people like you and me.”

“Basically we’re here to keep you okay.” Dean explained simply. He radiated calm Alpha scent, the new fragrance washing away your terror at being fired.

“We?” You asked in confusion.

Another knock sounded on the door and Ambrose moved to open it, revealing two more men. The Alpha smell, which was heady enough in the room from Dean alone, instantly thickened. Your stomach filled with warmth and you gasped for breath, dimly aware that Stephanie was saying something. Seth. Roman.

Mr. Hunter’s hand was suddenly tilting your chin up. “You still in there, kid?” Hunter Helmsley was the epitome of mated Alpha, broad-shouldered and confident in his own skin. You could see why Stephanie adored him.

You barely had the mental capacity to shake your head. “I don’t feel well, sir.” Your voice was a trembling whisper.

“It’s alright. That’s why our boys are here. Can you make it to lunch time? Two hours.” Hunter glanced at the clock. “Then, it’s only half a shift missed instead of a full one.”

Two hours. Two hours. You nodded dumbly. You could do whatever this Alpha asked. You were a good Omega.

Hunter chuckled. “Alright. The boys are going to escort you to our Omega office, okay? Scent-dampening walls like mine. We need to keep you under wraps until this calms down. You may want to talk with your physician as well, figure out what he gave you.”

“Not the right amount. He won’t listen to me.” You breathed.

“He’ll listen to Dean.” That was one of the other Alphas, but was it Roman or Seth? Seth or Roman?

“Our Alpha partner program can also accompany you to appointments, if necessary.” Hunter added gently. “They’re here to make things easier.”

The idea of having a strong, secure Alpha with you in the doctor’s office made your chest ache with longing. You whined without meaning to, blushing and covering your mouth. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize, Omega. We understand.” Seth (or was it Roman?) took your hand, sending tingles through to your fingertips. “C’mon, before everyone in the building is banging on Hunter’s door.”

Roman (or was it Seth?) opened the door for you, making you flush even hotter than before. Normally only mates were offered the courtesy of having a door held for them. Dean came up on the other side of you, the two Alphas flanking you in the hallway while the third brought up the rear.

You finally got up the courage to whisper, “Are you Seth or Roman?” to the dark-haired man at your side.

“He’s Seth, I’m Roman.” The young man behind you answered, making you glance over your shoulder to look at him. He gave you a small smile, as though he was doing his best to soften his hard features. “Roman Reigns, Alpha at your service.”

“Um, no offense to any of you but…why were you guys picked for this?” You asked awkwardly.

“Even temperament, mostly.” Roman replied, shrugging.

“I don’t get nuts around Omegas. Hormone imbalances.” Dean said shortly.

“And I’m too smart to lose my cool.” Seth added smugly. “We aren’t like those other Alphas, butting heads over a piece of ass.”

“Rollins.” Roman’s tone held a sharp note of warning.

“Sorry, sorry. Not to imply that you’re a piece of ass or anything.” Seth apologized hastily. “You’re an Omega, and an Omega that doesn’t want to sit at home and do nothing! Pretty rare.”

“Sitting around is only good until the bills need to be paid.” You commented dryly. “Wait, how am I supposed to do my job if I have to-”

“Ambrose is going to be with you when you’re running errands, okay?” Seth murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not ideal, I know, the space in here is kinda’ tight. But if something happens while you’re in our care, Hunter will eat us alive.”

Dean opened the door to the Omega office and stepped in, gesturing for you to follow. “C’mon, let’s sit you down for a minute. How you feeling? Doing okay?” He asked kindly, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel fevery.”

“I’m just nervous, mostly. Restless. Like it’s hard to breathe. I mean, it’s not actually hard to breathe, but like how you feel when it is?” You fumbled to explain. “Chest is kind of tight.”

Roman had pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, the well-built Alpha turning to a fresh page before clicking his pen. “Can I get the name of your primary care physician, and a rough estimate of how long he’s been cutting your medication? Mr. Helmsley will need it for your file.”

“Oh, b-but I have no proof-”

“Your body is out of sync. Unless Hunter--er, I mean, Mr. Helmsley, has put you under a significant amount of stress, there’s no logical reason for you to be feeling like your lungs are too small.” Seth raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you have anything going on outside of work that could contribute to the level of discomfort you’re dealing with. Shortness of breath is a pretty common complaint in Omegas once their meds are switched.”

“According to my primary, every complaint is a common complaint for someone like me.” The statement came out more bitter than you intended and you grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, this is good information to have. With your consent, Dean will accompany you on your next appointment.” Roman continued to write for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Ah, when is your next appointment?”

“I had made an emergency one for tomorrow, a cancellation happened and I picked up the slot. Waste of a day off, but I was really hoping to talk some sense into the doctor.” You said weakly. “Or at least try. It’s...hard. He has me strip down and put on the examination gown before he’ll speak to me and I just…I mean it’s a vulnerable situation for someone like me and I don’t really have anyone to come with me.” You were so relieved that someone might be taking you seriously, the words just came pouring out. “I know he doesn’t like Omegas so I just try to make everything simple but now I’m sick or confused and I’m scared, what if there’s something really wrong with me?”

“Easy, easy. Look, I’m gonna’ go grab you a soda from the break room stash. We’ll get some sugar into you, perk you back up. Like Mr. Helmsley said, if you can duke it out for two hours you’re in better shape.” Dean reminded you, heading for the door. “Everything’s gonna’ be just fine. I can come with you tomorrow, I don’t have any prior assignments.”

Of course, as soon as the words were out of his mouth the door flew open and half the contents of the IT department poured into the office. Drew, Tony and Perkins led by one Brian Kendrick who shouted, “There! I told you I smelled heat in the hallway!” pointing an accusing finger at you. You were frozen with fear. The small room was packed with Alphas and Betas now, crowding in on you from all sides.  The air was thick with different smells and the snap of hungry teeth and this is why you can’t have a job this is why you need to stay at home-

“Ambrose!” Seth yelled over the hubbub. It must have been something they had rehearsed, because you were suddenly pulled tight to Dean's chest.

“Face into my collarbone, breathe in. Breathe out. Don't look at them, focus on me.” Ambrose said calmly. There was the sound of a solid impact behind you and Kendrick abruptly stopped hollering.

“You're all really gonna' let this yappy son of a bitch rile you up into acting like a bunch of animals?” Roman asked, his voice low and irritated. “Get out. All of you! Out!”

You whimpered and Dean cupped the back of your head, humming comfortingly. “It's alright. He's a friend. You're safe with me.” He soothed. “We're on your side. Nothin' is gonna' happen to you while I’m here.”

“I'm going to talk to Kalisto and Mustafa. This is some bullshit.” Rollins grunted angrily. “Jesus Christ, that was a fucking nerd mob.”

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, sounding concerned. A large hand covered Ambrose’s on the back of your neck and you relaxed a little into Dean. “Go talk with the smart ones, Seth. We’ll stay put with them until you get back.”

“My legs are going to give out in a second.” You warned thickly.

“Grab the chair, Reigns.” Dean ordered. You closed your eyes, the sound of your swallow loud in your ears. “I’ve got you. Focus on my voice, calm that breathing down so you’re getting enough air.” Ambrose coached, settling you into the chair.

Roman’s hands rested on your shoulders, keeping you upright in the seat. Ambrose shifted in between your thighs, the comfort you felt at his presence a little startling. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you while one of us is here.” Roman said firmly.

“Promise?” You whispered, opening your eyes.

Dean stared back at you until you glanced away, unnerved by the intensity of his look. “Promise.” He replied softly.

…

“Clothes stay on. No, fuck you, their clothes stay on. You’re not bullying them anymore, got it asshole?” Dean rasped, looking like he was inches from pinning your doctor to the wall. “I’m here with them. Now do your damn job and explain what’s happening.”

You hadn’t taken two steps into the examination room before your primary care physician had gestured at the gown on the table and barked at you like he always did. But Ambrose didn’t take kindly to that, the light-haired man glaring holes through the old Alpha doctor. “You can’t threaten me in my own practice!” The older man sputtered.

“They have the right to be treated with fucking dignity, not like they’re an inconvenience. Shit, they’re sick and scared and you’re over here playing high and mighty!” Dean snapped. “What’s the story, huh doc? What’s your issue?”

“Omegas are breeding machines with hysterical, hypochondriac tendencies. My issue is that I’m having my time wasted.” The doctor answered primly.

“This is an Omega who’s got shortness of breath and their heats are getting worse even though they’re taking their suppressants. You’re the one writing their scripts; you’re the one who switched them to a generic without asking them first and then, you cut their doses in half!” Ambrose was fairly roaring at this point. “Feeding them some bullshit story about how they couldn’t take their own script to a fucking pharmacy! ‘Course they can, most Omegas do!”

“I’m not going to stand here and be accused of-”

“Accusing you? Buddy I haven’t even shown you my evidence. I’m flat-out condemning your ass. I have invoices. Faxes. Pages and pages of scripts with your name all over them. I suggest you fucking play ball with my Omega, or King’s Game is gonna’ raze your little pop-up clinic and turn it into a fuckin’ penny candy store.” Dean bared his teeth. “You feel me yet, doc?”

“I…” Your doctor paused, looking like he’d had the rug yanked out from beneath him. “Listen, this is standard procedure for Omega-exclusive practices, I can’t just-”

“You’re diggin’ a pretty deep hole for yourself, doc. You tryin’ to tell me that there’s more guys like you out there, purposely fucking up people’s lives?” Dean snarled.

“It’s the way things are.” Your doctor replied with a weary air. “We need to perpetuate our species one way or another. I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t smell quite right yourself.”

“You’d better watch that nose around me, doc. I’ll bite it off.”

“Aside from your own issues,” Your doctor continued, looking much more pale, “I can’t just up their dosage on a whim, this-”

“Hey, you’re not talking to me. Talk to them. This is their health at stake.” Dean growled.

“Fine.” Your doctor turned toward you with a huff, still not meeting your eyes. “It will take weeks for the suppressants to regain their previous effectiveness. A gradual increase is the only way to straighten you out. If, of course, this is all true.” The doctor didn’t seem to be able to help tacking on the snide remark at the end.

Dean was all over him like a bad suit, fists digging into the older man’s white jacket. “You keep this attitude up and I’ll bite your nose off for free.” He threatened. “This is your last warning to cut the shit. Write them the correct script or so help me God, my people will call your people.”

You just sat there wide-eyed, barely believing what you were watching. Dean was going to bat for you like you were his, radiating scents of fury and Alpha. Your body lit up with excitement and you barely kept yourself from begging Ambrose to mate you until you couldn’t remember your own name. Your face flushed. Where had that desire come from?! You had never been that forward before!

Ambrose kept up the rumbling threat of a snarl in his chest while your doctor printed off some new paperwork, the younger Alpha quickly yanking it out of the older man’s hands and then passing it to you. “Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” Dean murmured, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steer you out of the examination room. “I know a guy, Doc Swagger. I’ll give you his number for when this script runs out.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Too much? I wanted him to take you seriously. I wasn’t sure whether ‘upset mate’ would work, so I went with ‘upset bad cop’.” Dean sounded worried. “Did I overstep?”

“Oh no, gosh. I’m just…a little hot is all.” You admitted, flushing.

“A little h…oh. Oh.” Ambrose paused, then gave you a grin. “Yeah? You think maybe you like when I get tough?”

“No! I do not!” You protested frantically, watching his grin widen. “I’ve never had anyone defend me like that is all and I don’t…I mean I’m not…look, I don’t want to offend you.”

“Offend…?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I think you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Well because I’m an Omega. And…and I can’t control myself as well as I should.” Your flush was from shame now. “It’s not fair to you that you have to deal with me all…messy like this and probably smelling like a...I-I don’t mean to be this way. It’ll be so much easier once my medication is evened back out.” This was so embarrassing. You had never felt smaller in your whole life. “I really don’t mean to be this way, I know what you must think of me.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with how you smell.” Dean finally murmured after a minute of silence, his back ramrod straight and that teasing smile gone from his face.

…

Hunter assigned Dean to you permanently when he saw how well the two of you were getting on. He mostly just seemed pleased that the program was a success and that you could get your work done with minimal interruptions.

There were no more outbursts from the IT department, and if anyone so much as twitched their nose at you it seemed like Ambrose was at your elbow, brandishing a stapler with deadly intent. His methods were a bit more…hands on than you would expect from someone in an office setting, but you were grateful all the same.

“I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.” He confided in you one day while you were making copies, his lean frame towering over you. He tended to station himself to the side of you if he could help it, stating that he didn’t want to loom. “Used to pretty often though. This little program is good for me, I think.”

A huge pair of hands abruptly clamped down on your hips before you could respond, and you were rudely hoisted into the air and dropped to the side to free up the copier. “Out of my way.” Brock from Financial grunted.

“Hey!” Dean snapped, his expression gone fierce. “You don’t fucking touch them, Hunter’s orders!”

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about Hunter’s orders?” Brock snorted derisively, “The little go-fer with slick-reek was taking too long. I have important work to do.”

You blushed hotly with shame, hoping that you didn’t actually smell like slick. How incredibly embarrassing!

“You can ask them to fucking move.” Ambrose’s fists clenched. “Or you can wait.”

“Copies really worth getting your panties in a wad over, Ambrose?” Brock’s grin was infuriating, arrogance shining through in his slouched posture.

“Certainly seemed like it was to you, Lesnar.” Dean scooped up the copy that Brock had made before the other Alpha could reach it, quickly ripping the page in half.

“Your maturity knows no bounds.” Brock sighed.

“Were you all set with the machine?” Dean asked you, studiously ignoring the massive Alpha blocking the door. You nodded quickly, not wanting to cause more trouble. You could always come back on your way out, after all. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Lesnar.”

“You do realize that they’ll fuck anyone, Ambrose. Regardless of how that person treats them.” Brock chuckled, his nasty smile back full-force. “Isn’t that right, little Omega? I bet you’d love it if I shoved up your skirt and just-”

“Stop!” You said while shaking your head violently, unsure at first if you were trying to shut him up or trying to keep your thoughts from circling on the visuals his words were eliciting. Normally you would have been thrilled at the idea of an Alpha offering you any sort of attention, especially attention that might ease the hot shivers in your stomach. But all you could focus on was the brief flash of a wounded look that crossed Ambrose’s face and the nausea that was building in your throat.

“Man, why the hell would you say something like that? Were you raised by wolves? Jesus.” Dean seemed more offended than anything else, moving until he was between you and Brock. “I mean shit, what’s your problem? Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Tiny penis? All three? Get the fuck away from them.” He gave Brock a hard shove, clearing the doorway. “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Dean urged you, making you scramble for the hall.

You slid down the wall once you were in the hallway, tucking your knees up into your chest. Brock had done nothing but make everything worse, your face still hot from the notion that you might smell like slick and be unable to do anything about it. You got unsteadily to your feet and fled to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall and resting your forehead against the door. Too late you realized you had forgotten your copies in the hallway, and tears choked your throat. Why was this so hard? Why did you have to be so stubborn about this job? Plenty of Omegas stayed at home, raising babies and keeping house. Why couldn’t you?

Maybe the suppressants failing was a blessing in disguise. Maybe…maybe you should be one of those Omegas. You had been so sure of yourself, and look where it had gotten you! Huddled up in a bathroom stall, your stomach rolling and tears dripping down your face. And now your nose was running. You thumped your head against the stall door and then flinched back when the bathroom door opened with a loud bang!

“Omega?” It was Dean, whispering as loud as he could. “You in here?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, unlocking the stall and opening the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry I ran. I know you have the worst job in this place and I’m not exactly making it easier by taking off on you.”

“Hey, I get it. You were scared, maybe a little embarrassed. Don’t listen to anything that asshole says, okay? He’s just pulling the same shit every other Alpha and Beta does, trying to guilt or threaten you into boning them.” Dean said bluntly. “Like I need to tell you that, like you don’t already know.” He laughed weakly. “And what the heck do you mean by ‘worst job’?”

You just shook your head, finally raising your eyes to look at him. He had a new graze on his cheek, the small cut oozing blood down the side of his jaw. “Oh, what happened?” You asked unhappily, reaching out and wiping the blood off with your thumb.

“Caught the side of the copier funny. It made that low toner warning t-turn off though, so I think I fixed it.” Dean’s voice hitched slightly and you hastily pulled your hand back.

“Sorry, I…reflex.” You apologized, tired to death of blushing. But you shouldn’t have touched him! He wasn’t yours, after all, and it was a little frowned upon when an unmated Omega went around touching unmated Alphas unnecessarily. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright.” Was all Dean said in reply, jamming his hands into his pockets. When you caught sight of his hands later on in the day, you noticed his knuckles were scraped open in a few places.

I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.

What did he consider ‘for real’?

…

Your heat cycle ended and life returned to normal for the most part. Dean no longer needed to accompany you everywhere and he said as much, pressing the phone number for his doctor friend into your palm. “I’ll see you around, Omega.”

You scolded yourself for your daydreaming, sentimental tendencies on the way to your appointment with Doctor Swagger. You felt guilty for the trouble you must have put Dean through during your cycle and you were hoping this new doctor would be able to help you manage yourself better.

Doctor Jack Swagger was the largest Omega you had ever met, the blond man standing head and shoulders over you when he shook your hand warmly. “The usual? I doubt you want to spend your whole day off in my tidy little exam room.” His easy demeanor was a complete change from your prior physician and you found yourself relaxing. “Ambrothe recommended me, huh? I’m flattered.” Swagger grinned. “He’s normally all teeth when I have to poke and prod him, poor bastard.” He patted the examination table. “Alright, quick checkup and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

True to his word it wasn’t long before you were on your way, the fresh script for name brand suppressants tucked safely into your pocket. Swagger said he had already called the order in, but that “it might be a good idea for you to have the script in hand, so they can cross-reference it.” Which you were sure was his way of letting you know that he wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to be certain you were getting the right product.

You were grateful that he seemed to understand your plight. But then again, who knew what kind of trials he had been through? Nobody could have believed he was an Omega, as huge as he was. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Of course, not every Omega was going to be small-boned and delicate, the world just didn’t work that way. People like you did lean towards the diminutive, but an Omega’s size wasn’t nearly as much of an issue as it would be for, say, a shorter Alpha.

There were plenty of other things people could find wrong with Omegas. Size was an outlier.

You shook your head at yourself. Those thoughts weren’t going to do you any good. Everything would be okay now! You would be back to your usual self in a few months and hopefully you could still see Dean every now and then--

No! Stop it! That’s not how this works! Just because he had treated you decently, just because he was required to keep you safe when you were more likely to have a lapse in judgment? You were a job, that was all. Something to keep Mr. Helmsley signing checks for him. Nothing was going to change that. I don’t get any say in the matter, you thought sadly. He’s not mine and he’s never going to be. Might as well get used to it, no Alpha is going to so much as look at me unless I’m in heat.

…

The next time your cycle came around, you were caught off guard. It was almost two weeks early! You did your best to remain calm on the drive to work, calling ahead to let Stephanie know you would be a little late. Dean met you at the door, his expression carefully neutral. “Again?” You nodded, biting your lip. He grunted, taking off his heavy leather jacket and dropping it over your shoulders. “That ought to mask it, at least for now. How do you feel?”

“Queasy.” You admitted, snuggling down into the coat and tucking your nose into the collar where Ambrose’s scent was cloyingly thick. It was pitiful and you knew it, saying as much when Dean gently took your arm to lead you in. “M’sorry, your jacket is going to smell all gross.” You mumbled.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind your smell? Damn.” Dean huffed.

“What if people think you’re my mate because my scent is all over your stuff?” You continued over him worriedly. “What if Brock comes after you?”

“That’s kinda’ the point.” Dean said matter-of-factly, making you pause. “Look, I’m here to help you avoid conflict. No one said I had to fight fair.” His smile was crooked. “I just hope you can deal with the group of people who will pity you.”

“Pity…?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a prime cut of Alpha steak.” He shrugged. “Not really much interest. Hell, I’m scrawny when you look at Reigns or Rollins.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny!” You protested, touching his hand on your arm. “You’re trim.”

“Is that a thing? Sure, okay. I’m ‘trim’.” Dean chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Not every Alpha needs to be huge, y’know.”

Dean fell silent at your words and you wondered if you had annoyed him. His hold tightened momentarily on your arm. “Come…come in here for a second.” He muttered finally, ushering you into an empty conference room.

You were instantly on guard, your death grip on the jacket around your shoulders the biggest oxymoron you could think of. Ambrose left the door to the hallway slightly ajar, and he leaned against the wall beside it.

“Look, I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe me for this uh…well, whatever it is that I’m doing. Escorting, I guess. I was trained to do this, okay? It’s not like I moonlight in HR or somethin’, this is what I clock in to do. So you ain’t gotta’ be delicate with me, alright? I’m a big kid.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t understand.” You said slowly, feeling like that was the best course of action.

Dean dragged a hand through his hair. “You…what you said. Not that I don’t appreciate hearin’ stuff like that, mind you. I don’t want to think that I’m…fuckin’, inadequate. And I usually don’t think that way anyhow. But you don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better. Like I said, I’m a big kid.” He tried for another smile and it was even less convincing than his previous attempt. “Now, let’s get you to your office.”

“But-” You began to protest, bewildered.

“Please. Drop it.” Dean said softly, his hand tucked back into the crook of your elbow. “Seriously.”

You nodded, not really wanting to but understanding that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. And wasn’t that odd, an Omega trying to make an Alpha feel at ease! “Hey, if you ever need to talk to someone…”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Oh, you had definitely upset him. His words were clipped and short, bitten out. “What’s up with me is my own business, Omega.”

“Yeah, but if you have to babysit on top of that-”

“I’m not babysitting you.”

“You literally put your coat on me and now you’re leading me along this hallway like I’ve never been here before. Face it, you’re a babysitter.” Your stomach twisted suddenly, robbing you of your breath and making you stop in your tracks. “Oh.”

“Omega? Shit.” Dean swore, glancing both ways before propping you up against the wall. “It's okay, you’re alright. You’re alright, it’ll pass.” He said softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You tried to focus on his voice, tried to focus on his hands on your shoulders. “Dean-” You whispered.

“Shh, you’re alright. Breathe.” Dean urged and you nodded, trying to be obedient for this Alpha. “Just keep breathing, you’ll be okay. Nothing bad is gonna’ happen while I’m here, I promise.” His eyes lowered. “Is it your stomach?”

“Y-Yeah.” You choked out. “Hard to breathe-”

Dean grimaced and spread his palm flat on the lower portion of your stomach, applying firm, even pressure as he worked his hand in small circles. The heat of his fingers bled through your blouse and you whimpered, quickly biting down on your knuckles to stifle the noise. “Easy now, just relax into me.” He rasped, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve got you.”

The pain in your stomach dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived, and you held onto Dean’s arm while you tried to regain your balance. “What…God, I feel like I just ran a marathon.” You said finally, making Dean snicker.

“You probably blew through your caloric intake for the week. Let’s get you to the office and then I’ll find you a snack.” Ambrose’s hand stayed on your stomach, supporting you during the rest of the trek to the Omega office. You wanted to wonder at that, but you quickly crushed the notion. He was doing his job. Nothing more, but definitely nothing less.

He kept closer than he usually did, touching you with some part of his body for the majority of the work day. Fingertips, his jeans brushing your slacks or his arm bumping your own in the narrow hallways. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but after his curt behavior earlier it was entertaining to a degree. And confusing.

“I just don’t think I could do it.” He muttered out of the blue.

You glanced up from the pile of mail you were trying to sort, seeing that he was fiddling with his phone. “What?” You asked, making him jump.

“Oh, sorry. That was supposed to be in my head. My bad.” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinkin’ about…well, it doesn’t really matter.” You raised an eyebrow and he swallowed hard, the sound seeming over-loud in the quiet room. “Uh. Jesus, if I hadn’t seen you earlier I’d swear you were an Alpha. You’ve got the stern look down pat.”

“Oh?” You wrinkled your nose, unsure if you were being complimented.

Ambrose practically lunged across the desk to pick up one of the bottles of water he had grabbed earlier, clumsily popping the cap on it and downing half the contents. “Okay, alright, you win, you can’t do that shit with your nose.” He gasped once he was done. “Look, it wouldn’t work between us. I ain’t never even thought about dating an Omega before!” Dean sounded outright panicky and you got the feeling his mouth was miles ahead of his brain as he rambled, “I mean, I have thought about it, yeah, but it scares the shit out of me. I just--if-if they have some kind of wave and I ain’t around, what happens? What fucking happens? People talk a lot of shit but there isn’t any hard proof, do Omegas want to bang whatever whenever? And if they do, why would--”

“Listen, I’d love to answer but I can’t. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Official orders from Omega higher-ups.” You interrupted Dean pompously, barely holding back your giggles when he gave you a wide-eyed look. “What, you don’t know about the network? We have influential Omegas stationed at key points across the globe, Dean. There’s nothing Alphas or Betas can do without us knowing.”

Understanding dawned on Dean’s face and he shoved your shoulder, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Shut up, I was bein’ serious y’know.”

“I don’t really know the answers.” You admitted. “I’ve been on suppressants since my first heat, and up until relatively recently they worked fine. So I couldn’t tell you. I doubt Omegas actually want to bang whatever whenever, but hormones are a funny thing. Especially if they’re combined with a fertile Alpha or Beta. Your scent makes me weak in the knees, sure, but I’m not about to jump you. With the half-strength suppressants the hardest part was dealing with the mental images.”

“Oh. Like when Brock was-”

“Ew, Jesus, don’t remind me.” You cut him off, covering your ears. “It was bad enough in the moment, God. I wanted to die.”

“Why do people do that shit to you guys?” Dean asked, “Just to get you wound up? Give you some kind of picture that’ll make your body feel even worse until you get some relief?”

“So that they can conveniently offer to be the relief.” You shook your head. “Guilting and manipulating an Omega into mating while they’re in heat ought to be a punishable offense. Nine times out of ten we aren’t in our right minds, how are you supposed to get consent out of someone who can’t even remember words anymore?”

“And that’s the ticket right there, isn’t it.” Ambrose growled. “Fuckin’ pieces of crap get an Omega riled to the point of incoherence and have their fun.” He gave you a sidelong look. “That uh, that something that’s happened to you?”

“No, not me personally. I’ve been very lucky.” You replied softly.

“Well you ain’t gotta’ rely on luck anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m not particularly lucky myself, but what little I’ve got I’ll happily spread thin for ya’.” Dean cracked his knuckles, looking very serious. “That’s why I signed on to this program anyway, figured if my Alpha hormones are fucked I might as well do some good.”

“How are they messed up?”

“Ah, I get weird dry spells. Months, sometimes. I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks. It’s like testosterone overload, I can’t get a straight thought through my head even with the meds. I’ll be like ‘I need food’, then two seconds later I’m out climbing my fire escape, stealing tomatoes off the balcony of the guy who lives above me.” Dean shrugged. “Probably naked too, if I know myself.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, I’m uh, not too bright when I get that way.”

…

Friday had come at last. It had been a long week and you were definitely looking forward to some time off. Ambrose was more fidgety than normal, to the point where it was actually getting on your nerves. Usually you barely noticed it, but today Dean seemed like he was trying to tap and shimmy his way out of his own skin.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, much sharper than you had intended.

Dean flinched, not meeting your eyes when he looked up and instead focusing on a point by your shoulder. “Yep.” He said shortly.

You quirked an eyebrow at his behavior, getting to your feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of your skirt. “Hey, if something is wrong you can tell me, you know. I’m not in anyone’s pocket just yet.”

“I just have to get through this shift. I’d appreciate it if you would drop it.” Was his stiff reply.

“Is it something that I did?” You asked worriedly, thanking God that you were at the end of your heat and your flush wasn’t quite so neon. “Did I say something? Did…did Brock do something?”

“This ain’t got anythin’ to do with you!” Dean said, his voice rasping badly when he raised it. He deflated almost immediately. “Sorry, I’m…sorry. I promise it’s not anything that you did. I just gotta’ get through today. I’m trying real hard to keep my cool here, Omega.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, lowering your own voice and crouching so you were at eye level with him. Dean still wouldn’t look you in the eye, awkwardly shifting in his chair. “Hey, I’m serious. You take such good care of me all the time. Do you need a water? Something to snack on?”

“It feels like someone cranked the knob up to eleven and then snapped it off.” Ambrose mumbled, not answering your question. Then, “If something happens…”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m running down the hall to the lounge, getting you a water and some chips, then coming right back. Three minutes tops.” You promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “Let me take care of you.”

Ambrose groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. “Alright, okay, fine. Just be careful. Three minutes. I’m coming to get you if you’re not back.” He threatened half-heartedly, making you snicker while you stood.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” You eased into the hallway, making sure it was empty before you closed the door behind you. As you made the short walk to the break room, you wondered whether this was the beginning of Dean’s own proverbial hell week. Your heart went out to him if it was, you of all people understood that having your body go to war with itself was not a fun experience.

The vending machine was devoid of chips, but there were a few packets of crackers available. You fed it your change and then huffed in annoyance when the crackers got stuck in the dispenser. Pounding your fist on the side of the machine did no good, and you resorted to shoulder-checking it until it rocked enough to drop the crackers. “Ha!” You said triumphantly, retrieving your prize and turning around.

Brock was so close you all but walked into his chest and your heart sank to your shoes. “Well well well, if it isn’t the office pet. Where’s your cuntlicker?” Brock leered down at you.

You swallowed hard. Cuntlicker? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Omega bitch. Where’s Ambrose?” Brock’s tiny eyes narrowed even further. “I owe him for the other day, after all. Maybe I ought to have you suck me off as an apology.”

“What makes you think I would agree to something like that?” You snapped, ignoring the faded response of your body that clamored to be claimed by an Alpha.

“I don’t need you to agree-”

“If you don’t want me to bite your cock off, I feel like my agreement is incredibly important.” You snarled, surprising yourself with your own aggression. “Also? Not even if I was out of my mind with heat, Lesnar.”

“Is that fucking so?” Brock’s hands crushed your shoulders, the large Alpha hefting you up and pinning you to the wall without so much as a noise of exertion. “Try again, Omega bitch.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” You struggled in his grip, kicking your legs and wriggling wildly. “You don’t own me, no one owns me, no one has any right to treat me like this so fuck you!” You proclaimed furiously. “I’m nobody’s sweet little Omega and I will tear your dick off if you touch me again!” You were screaming at this point, so incredibly outraged that you were seeing red.

“What are you gonna’ do to me? You can’t even fight back.” Brock sneered. “Until I decide to let you go, you’re stuck. So do me a favor and stop wasting my time, little bitch.” His fingers dug in harshly but instead of crying out in pain you spat at him, refusing to be cowed. “I know you’re gonna’ change your tune the second you see my cock, you Omegas are all the same. Once I wreck you, Ambrose won’t come within thirty yards of your sorry ass.”

You jerked your head to the side and sank your teeth into his hand. Brock responded by slamming your back against the wall so hard you saw stars for a second.

“Don’t push your luck-”

The door to the room opened and Ambrose half-fell through the doorway, barely catching himself in time. “What are you fuckin’ doing?” He asked Lesnar bluntly, his teeth clicking loudly at the end of the sentence. Dean looked feverish, his hair messy and eyes wild.

I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks.

You gulped. “Ambrose why are you so fucking obnoxious?” Brock grunted. Dean didn’t bother to respond, he simply latched onto Lesnar’s fingers and peeled one of his hands off your shoulders. You dropped to the floor and then with an ugly twist of his wrist, Ambrose snapped every finger on Brock’s hand.

“Keep it up, Lesnar. Give me an excuse t’ send ya’ ass t’ the fuckin’ ER.” Ambrose snarled. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? I figured you’d appreciate the black eye, but I guess you’re more hands-on than that.”

“You broke my fucking fingers!”

“You had the Omega trapped, not much choice.” Ambrose shrugged. “My job description is ‘any means necessary’.” His footing was unsteady, the slender man almost falling over when he managed to pull you upright. “Are you alright, Omega? Anythin’ hurt?” He asked, straightening out your blouse clumsily.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as you could. Dean stiffened for a second before he returned your embrace, holding you tight to his chest and cradling the back of your head like he had the first day you had met.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, quieter this time. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, I’m okay. I had it under control.” You selfishly buried your face in his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply.

“I noticed.” Dean whispered.

“You're gonna' fucking pay for this, Ambrose!” The larger Alpha swore, easily ripping Dean away from you and delivering a blow to the smaller man's jaw that snapped his head to the side. “After I'm done with you, you'll eat through a straw for the rest of your life!” Brock raged, his broken hand cupped to his chest.

Dean shook his head and then bared his teeth, blue eyes wide and pupils blown in a fixated stare. “And I was gonna' let you live, too.” He rasped, giving a harsh bark of mirthless laughter. He caught your arm and pushed you towards the door, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than he needed to. “Get Hunter, Omega. Be good for me, okay?” His scent was saturated with Alpha smell, strong enough to take your breath away.

“But-!”

Ambrose didn't have another second of attention to spare, throwing himself bodily at Lesnar and flooring him. The last thing you saw before fleeing to go find Mr. Helmsley was Dean straddling Brock, the slim Alpha ranting swears while the two of them swung wildly at each other.

…

What was left of Brock Lesnar was blackballed from King's Game and all its subsidiaries. Which may have stretched further than you had anticipated. Dean was released into the care of Rollins and Reigns. According to Mr. Helmsley he was a little too far gone to be trusted with driving himself home. “He’ll be fine in a few days.” The older Alpha assured you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He bounces back pretty quick. Tough kid, Ambrose.”

You spent the weekend quietly. You were shaken by the fact that while Ambrose clearly displayed  dominant tendencies, he hadn’t ever tried to assert that dominance over you. He also hadn’t thought for a second about taking a piece out of Brock, recklessly lunging at the larger man.

Was it because Brock had gone after you? Or was simply because he had hit Dean? Ambrose had seemed to be in his right mind until he had been punched, then he had obviously lost the battle with his surging hormones. Now that you thought on it, if what Dean had said was true, Brock was probably lucky to be alive.

Dean wasn’t at work on Monday or Tuesday. When Wednesday came, you marched straight to the Alpha Program office and banged on the door.

Seth opened the door, staring down at you momentarily. “Uh. Yes?” He asked after an awkward pause.

“I need Dean’s address.” You said firmly.

“Ha! Pay up, Rollins.” Reigns called from his desk across the room, chuckling while Seth swore under his breath and dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Why do you want Ambrose’s info?” Rollins questioned you warily. “He’s not in the greatest shape right now, and I dunno’ if he’s fit comp-”

“He lit into Lesnar and I want to know why.”

“Brock put his hands on you. Dean takes his job very seriously.” Seth explained like you were a child, making you bristle.

“But why pummel the guy? Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you. It just seemed like overkill is all.” You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to talk to him. Make sure he’s alright. I haven’t felt okay since that day and I…” You trailed off, feeling that familiar blush creep up your neck.

“Ah. Talk.” Roman cleared his throat. “I don’t know if he’ll be in the proper headspace for speech. But hey, maybe having you there will help him come back around.”

“Is he really that far gone?”

“The spat with Lesnar pushed him further than it should have. He’s been mostly non-verbal whenever Rollins or I check on him.” Roman shrugged. “He’s not hurting himself. He’s all bundled up in a blanket den like usual, it’s just that he’s not talking. Dean gets into his own head sometimes and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except let him know that we’re there for him if he needs us.”

“Will he hurt me if I show up?”

“Ambrose ain’t like that.” Seth answered sharply. “He’s a couple sandwiches short, yeah, but he’s never violent without a reason. He thinks the world of you.” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “Uh, not in like…a creepy way or anything. Just, y’know, you’re important to him, I guess.” He floundered.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “So give me his address.”

…

Ambrose lived in a rougher neighborhood and you were immensely thankful that your heat had passed. You weren’t sure you would have been as confident if it still had your body in its grip. Even in your right mind, you spent a solid five minutes talking yourself up in the car. “C’mon, Rollins said he wouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even think he would hurt you, you big baby.” You shut the car door behind you firmly, straightened out your skirt and headed for the apartment complex stairwell.

Reigns had given you Dean’s door code, stating that he was unsure if Ambrose would be able to answer the door in his current state. The lock clicked open under your fingers and you let yourself into Dean’s apartment, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door to announce your presence. “Ambrose?” The first thing that hit you was the smell, Alpha scent so strong it made your head spin and knees weak. You braced yourself on the chair beside the door, trying to clear your head.

The second thing you noticed was that the whole apartment was dark. Daylight filtered in weakly through the curtains, but other than that the place was in shadow.

You put the small bag of groceries that you had picked up before coming over onto the counter, noting with worry that there were no dirty dishes in the sink. “Dean?” You called a little louder, thoroughly concerned now. “Hey, where are you? Roman and Seth said that you’d be here.”

Behind you there was the sound of a door creaking open. You whirled just in time to see Dean unfolding his lanky form from a pantry that was definitely not meant to be a living space. He spilled out onto the floor and laid there for a minute, before he turned his head to the side and groaned pitifully.

“Dean!” You dropped to your knees, forgoing your usual Omega propriety in favor of touching his shoulder. “Dean, oh my God. Are you alright?” After another long minute he raised his head slightly, dazed blue eyes trying hard to focus on your face. “Dean, it’s me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said quietly.

Dean’s reply was a hum that turned into a low moan, his forehead hitting the floor again with a dull thud. “Om’ga.” He slurred. “Thought y’ were th’ guys. Y’kay? Lesn’r come back? I’ll geddup, ‘ll kick his ass again…” Ambrose struggled to do just that, shoving himself into a sitting position. He then inhaled deeply and you watched his pupils dilate. “Y’ didn’t need to come over here. M’ fine. Just been in my den.”

“Is that what you call the pantry?”

“Small, dark. Quiet. I need that when I’m like this.” His voice sounded shot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You offered. Dean flailed an arm out until he caught hold of a drawer pull, hauling himself partially upright. You grabbed his free hand and managed to help him the rest of the way.

“Fuck’s sake.” He rasped, holding tight to your arm. The knuckles on his hands were still cracked and yellow-green bruised, presumably from his fight with Lesnar. “Feel like hot garbage. Why y’ here?” He asked wearily, his head lolling back momentarily.

“I’ve been worried about you.” You said, a little plainer than you had intended.

Ambrose jerked his head up to look at you, obviously startled. “You…what?” You propped him up against the counter and filled him a glass of water from the sink, which he quickly drank. “Om’ga m’ serious, wh…what did y’ say?”

“I was worried about you.” You whispered, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“Why?” Ambrose asked bluntly.

“I don’t know, because you got into a fight with an Alpha who’s at least twice your size? If I had just-”

Ambrose placed a finger on your lips, stopping the flow of words. “Y’ not gettin’ raped while I’m on th’ fuckin’ clock, un’nerstan’? Don’t care how sick I am.”

“But if I had let him-” You tried to continue your previous train of thought.

“No. There’s no gray area here, Om’ga. Not allowed. No is no, always has been. Y’ did th’ right thing by fightin’ back.” Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back to bump the cupboards. “I saw him fuckin’ pinnin’ you there an’…thought I was too late. Got so scared.” He confessed. “Needed you t’ leave. Wouldn’t hurt you, but…but I didn’t want y’ afraid of me if I fucked him up.”

“Is he at least fun to punch?” You asked dryly.

Dean’s drawn-out groan of a response sounded downright filthy. “So much fun.” He dragged a hand through his hair, finally seeming to notice the shopping bag you had brought in. “Whuss’at?”

“Dinner. I didn’t know how sick you were, so I um. I brought dinner.” You fought down the feelings of self-consciousness when Dean’s face became guarded. “It’s pretty basic stuff, but I know when I’m knee-deep in heat there’s nothing better than not having to make your own food.”

“Omega, m' okay. You don't need to--y'know.” Dean fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I already tol' y' that I'm a big kid. Don't have to take care of me or say shit I wanna' hear. Which one of th' guys put y' up to this? Bet it was Rollins.”

“Nobody put me up to anything, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, thoroughly irritated.

“It wouldn' be th' firs' time, is all. Don't mean t' be all weird abou'it.”

“I'm here because I was worried sick about you, and I wanted to know why you went after Lesnar so hard even after you got him to let me go.”

“Make sure he never did it again. He shouldn't have put his hands on you.” Ambrose snarled. “He talked so much shit when you weren't around, tryin'a rile me up n' get under m' skin. Fuckin' rattlin' on about how I mus' be fuckin' you, there's no other reason I'd take on the job 'cept to get first crack at an Omega, righ'?” He said bitterly. “It's Alphas like him that made me apply in the first place, an' look at me. Stooped to his fuckin' level th' firs' chance I could get away with it.”

“But you were on the opposite side of it!” You protested.

“It don't fuckin' matter. I went full rut-brain and hauled off on someone. Coulda' killed him.” Dean muttered grimly. “Been thinkin' about it this whole time. If Hunter hadn't gotten there when he did...Christ, was so fuckin' mad.” You wrapped your arms around him impulsively, hugging him tight. Dean actually moaned at the display of affection, his cheek dropping to rest on the top of your head. “Omega, y' can't...”

“I can.” You said softly.

“I won't prove him right, Omega.” Ambrose whispered, his hands trembling when he rested them on your hips. “I won't accept a reward for bein' someone like him, some domineerin' Alpha fuckstick.”

“I'm not a reward, I'm a human being. A lot of time and effort goes into me, Ambrose. I expect you to appreciate that.” You said huffily into his chest. “I'm hell on wheels during my heat if I'm not on suppressants and I don't fully understand how bad you get during your own spells, but I'm willing to try if you are.”

“Y' willin'?” Dean tipped your chin up, searching your eyes with his own. “Are y' serious?” You kissed him on the mouth instead of answering and he startled you with a gravelly whimper, his body going slack against yours while he cupped your face and kissed you back. “God, Omega, I've been goin' out of my mind, I wanted t' ask, wanted t' do it right.” He breathed. “I know I'm not much of an Alpha, m' skinny an' not nearly as dominant as I oughta' be, but...but God I want you. Wanted you t' want me, t’ take me as your mate.” He crooned helplessly in his throat. “Knew it from the first second I saw you, but you were so pretty. I don’t get pretty things.” He buried his face in your hair, rocking you back and forth. “I thought I fucked everythin' up when I went after Lesnar. Thought I scared you.”

“I was scared for you. I knew you weren't feeling well and I didn't want you to get hurt.” You assured him, boldly resting your hands on his hips.

Dean chuckled. “Ain't gotta' worry about me, Omega. Been in way worse shit than that.”

“Don't say that. I don't even want to think about you getting hurt.”

The Alpha groaned louder than you expected at your words. “I don't think anyone's ever not wanted me to get pummeled. You sure I ain't dreamin'?” You kissed him again, softer this time. “God, if I'm dreamin' don't wake me up.”

“Will you let me fix dinner?” You asked cautiously. “You can shower while I do that, might make you feel a little more human.”

Dean kissed your forehead, then teasingly rubbed his overgrown stubble across your cheek. “Not a fan of the mountain man look, Om’ga?”

“I didn’t say you had to shave!” You protested quickly, making him snort with laughter. “Just get washed up. Nothing better than a nice hot shower when you’re in heat, take my word for it. Yes, I know you’re not in heat, but I feel like a few of the rules are universal.” You ticked them off on your fingers as you spoke. “One, any food you don’t have to cook yourself is good food. Two, a hot bath is next to godliness. A hot shower will suffice, but it has to be hot. Three, if you need to cry because something hurts, that’s okay. And four, the most important one, be careful.”

“I ain’t gotten murdered in the shower yet, have I?” Dean looked troubled for a second. “Does…does it hurt when you have your heat? Where does it hurt? We learned that stomach soothe thing in our trainin’, but that can’t be all.”

“Ah, I personally get pains in the small of my back, my neck and shoulders. The stomach throbbing I think is universal, something to do with the reproductive areas going into overdrive with prep work.” You shrugged. “It’s so strange to me that there’s no concrete answer to essentially any Omega problem. It’s always a ‘possibility’ or some crap like that.”

“Tryin’ to keep you guys under everyone’s thumb.” Dean grunted, moving to scoop his blanket nest up out of the pantry. “More research means more informed folks like Doc Swagger, right? Can’t have that shit fixin’ their system.” He reasoned. His face reddened when he caught the incredulous look you were giving him. “My uh, my ma was an Omega.” He fumbled to explain, clinging tighter to the blankets as if they were a shield. “Never knew my dad.”

“Oh, so you’ve had a vested interest in that kind of thing.” You realized. Dean nodded wordlessly, ducking his face into the blankets. “Hey, don’t hide from me you goof, that’s a good thing.”

“Seth thinks it’s weird.” Dean muttered.

“Seth’s not an Omega, now is he? Of course he thinks it’s weird.” You chided. “I think it’s awesome that you pay attention to stuff like that.” You tugged the blankets down and kissed him again, smiling. “Now go get washed up.”

“God, just havin’ you around makes me feel more human.” He said dazedly. “Yeah, okay, shower. Goin’.”

You squealed quietly to yourself once you were sure he was in the shower, doing a giddy little shimmy before you started making dinner. He likes me! He’s liked me since the beginning! Your whole body still felt like it was buzzing happily from all the kisses and touches; you had never been touched tenderly by an Alpha before Dean. It had always been so clinical, as though being an Omega was contagious and no one else wanted to get infected.

Dean obviously didn’t give a damn, never shying away from the limited contact you had been bold enough to make. He seemed to welcome your hugs and kisses as well, so you made a mental note to do that as often as you thought you could get away with.

A still-stubbled chin rested on your shoulder and a set of strong arms wrapped around your midsection. “Miss me, Omega?” Dean asked, grunting when you wiggled back against him contentedly. “Think I’m about eighty-five percent human again. Makin’ mac n’ cheese?”

“Mm. Ultimate comfort food.” You nodded, continuing to stir the pasta. “Want to set your table, or should I?”

“I can manage it.” Dean pulled away, pecking the top of your head. “Thanks for takin’ care of me, Omega. Y’know you don’t have to, right?”

“I’m doing this because I want to, Alpha Ambrose.” You teased, making him rumble in his chest.

“Could get used to that.” He said finally, his tongue poking out from between his teeth when he smirked at you. The smirk vanished after you commented positively on his dimples, his face taking on a more bashful look while he set two bowls out on the counter. “Always thought they were out of place on the mug of a guy like me, y’know? Weird fuckin’ cherub smile.”

“You must have gotten away with so much when you were little.” You sighed. He grinned at you, silently indicating that he absolutely did. “Who am I kidding, you probably still raise hell.”

“Nah, Lesnar was my first fight in ages. There’s this thing called getting arrested, happened once or twice. Kinda’ not a fan of it so I’ve kept my nose clean.”

“Arrested? Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, it’s when ‘The Man’ decides he’s had enough of your semi-vigilante bullshit.”  Dean snuck a taste of mac n' cheese out of the pot as you reached over to turn off the heat and he laughed when you swatted him on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, I'll be good! You gotta' hurry up though, m' starvin'.”

Dean, it turned out, didn't exactly have a kitchen table. His living room sort of...flowed into the kitchen and he apparently ate on his couch most of the time. He ended up hauling the worn coffee table in close enough to bump his knees when he sat down, then patted the space on the couch beside him.

“C'mere, Omega.” He urged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you obliged him. To your surprise, he scooped up a spoonful of cheesy pasta from his bowl and proceeded to feed it to you. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you chewed and swallowed, and Dean cocked his head to the side. “What is it?” He asked.

“You just said you were hungry.” You pointed out, tentatively accepting another mouthful of mac n' cheese.

“I am. But if you're my mate, if...if we're dating, you come first.” Dean said firmly. “So you eat, and then I'll eat.”

“How about we compromise?” You suggested, emptying your bowl out on top of his and then offering him a spoonful of your own pasta. “We'll eat from the same bowl. I'll feed you, and you can feed me.”

“Yeah?” Ambrose looked suspiciously misty-eyed for a second, before he cleared his throat and eagerly ate the comfort food. “M' old-fashioned, sorry.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “Never had anyone to share stuff with like this. I always thought I'd have t' bring a fresh-killed deer to someone's parents or somethin'. But I guess sittin' in my apartment eatin' cheesy mac ain't so bad.”

“Think you can live with the disappointment?” You grinned.

“Oh, I'll manage somehow.”

His quiet murmurs of contentment slowly turned into outright purring as the evening went on, and you found yourself petting his hair while the two of you watched television. “Hey, can you look at me for a second?” You requested softly, making Dean tilt his head up. “Hi.” You kissed him and he moaned into your mouth, seeming caught off-guard.

“Omega, fuck.” He breathed. “Hi. Huh.” He shuddered all over. “One more of those and I'll wreck my pants. Go easy on me.”

“Why? Do you get like it when I kiss you?” You asked, giggling when Dean nodded wildly. “What else could I possibly do to you, if that's all it takes?”

“Everything.” Dean growled, twining his fingers with your own. “Everything and anything is great. Kiss me, bite me.” He was all but begging, baring his neck and burying his face in your shoulder. “Bite me, bite me please.”

You blushed bright red, licking your lips at his invitation. “Are...Are you sure? What if I hurt you?”

“I dare you.” You mouthed over his neck and he sobbed out a breath against your shoulder, his body twitching. “God, please, please Omega, just-” Your teeth dug in, canines crushing down. Dean froze for a second, almost long enough for you to get worried. “Fuck.” He snarled, “Yeah, you're perfect.”

“More?” You asked, squeaking when he yanked his shirt off and pulled you into his lap. His eyes met your own and the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. “More.” You announced.

“You're my mate.” Dean replied, cradling the back of your neck when you nosed across his shoulder. “Whatever you want, just keep biting me.” You sank your teeth in harder this time, giving a growl of your own when Ambrose rolled his hips. Your skirt rode up on your thighs. “You want to go further, Omega? We can if you want to.”

“You say while I have a mouthful of your neck.”

“Hey, don't talk with your mouth full.” Dean scolded, carding his fingers through your hair. You giggled and he started laughing as well after a second, his smile warm when he looked down at you. “What do you want from me, Omega?”

“A lot of things.” You answered truthfully, pulling your skirt up out of the way. Dean's eyes widened gratifyingly when you ground yourself against the swell of his cock in his jeans. “A specific thing right now, if you're interested.”

“Jesus Christ, if.” Dean unbuttoned his jeans, biting his lip when you pushed his hand away and unzipped his zipper. “You're dangerous, know that?” He rasped. “Checkin' up on me, feedin' me.”

“I have to take care of my Alpha.” You said simply.

“Yours, Omega. All yours. As long as you'll have me.” Dean spoke just as plainly as you, cupping your cheek. “Until you leave.”

“I'm not going to.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” He watched hungrily while you shed your panties, rumbling when he saw the slick that shone in the dim light. “Fuck, you can't still be...”

“No, m' just wet.” You rose up onto your knees and Dean shivered in anticipation, his thighs tight beneath you. “It's much worse when I'm in heat, trust me. Half the time I don't even bother with underwear.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He sighed, gripping the base of his cock and giving himself a lazy stroke. “If that ain't a turn-on, I dunno' what is.”

“Good to know.” Dean's knuckles brushed the soft skin on your thigh and then he pulled away, letting you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You weren't able to hold back a moan and he echoed your noise, sounding desperate. His fingers dug into the couch on either side of his body when you were fully seated, and you panted out a few shallow breaths as you tried to get used to the size of him. “God, Dean.” You gasped.

“Oh Jesus, fuck.” Dean grunted, whimpering when you snapped your teeth back down into his neck. “Yes, good Omega, good Omega, bite me, mark me.” He urged, his eyes rolling back in his skull as you tugged at his hair and began riding him. “Best Omega, don't be shy little Omega, fuck me, fuck me-”

You leaned back, using your hold on his hair to make him watch his dick slide in and out of you. “You like it? You like the way I take your Alpha cock?” You crooned, his passive behavior driving you to quicken your pace. He still had his hands clenched into fists on the cushions, like he was afraid to touch you. “Fuck up into me like you mean it, Alpha. Claim me.” You demanded. His hips bucked once, shallowly, and you ground down onto him.

“Don't want to hurt you.” He groaned, his hands seeming to move of their own accord despite his words. Dean palmed your thighs, only tightening his grip after you nodded encouragingly. “Won't hurt you. Your Alpha's gonna' make you come.”

“Yes please!” You begged, leaning into his touch.

“Look at you, taking every inch of me. What a good Omega you are.” Dean praised, “You needed this, didn't you? Needed your Alpha inside you to fill you up. Alpha's here.” He thrust his cock up, snarling, “Alpha's right here to give you what you need, tell him what you need. You need it harder? You need it faster?” You could have cried with relief when he crushed you down to sit in his lap again, his dominant tendencies shining through. “Grind on your Alpha's cock.” He ordered and you obeyed, making him grit out a swear. “Hah, fuck, Omega, you're so tight around me, fuck--”

“I'm a good Omega, right?” You panted, and Dean pressed his forehead to yours. “M' a good Omega, make you feel good?”

“God fucking dammit Omega, this is the fucking best I've ever felt in my life.” He growled, “Come for me, c'mon, get my knot fuckin' slick for you, do it, do it-” The bulge at the base of his cock throbbed against you, prodding thickly at your pussy with delicious intent. Just the thought that something so big would be inside you in a matter of moments was enough to make you arch your back and grind down even faster, your pubic mound bucking against his stomach in a frantic bid for completion.

Your orgasm surged through you, sending jolts up and down your spine where Dean gripped you fiercely. In the midst of it all, his knot slipped into you and you buried your face in his shoulder, crying out loudly and circling your hips. “Oh sweetheart, oh God, God are you alright? Are you alright?” Dean gasped, trembling fingers combing through your hair soothingly. “Jesus, I'll stop if you're not alright Omega, need to tell me y' okay.”

You managed to give him a thumbs up, making him moan in what seemed to be relief. His knot throbbed inside of you and then he grunted, coming hard. You sucked in a breath at the sensation of being mated, claimed and proven worthy by your Alpha's knot like you were an Omega out of the history books.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed. “Fuck. I've never knotted anyone before.” He mumbled finally. “Never had it engage. Holy fuck, you're my mate.”

“I'm your mate?” You echoed, unable to hide your smile.

Dean appeared to be in the same boat, his eyes going wide with the realization. “I'm your mate.”

“You're my mate.” You kissed his forehead. “My Alpha.”

“My Omega. I...God, wow. That sounds...that sounds really great.” He smiled up at you, his curls a frazzled mess and blue eyes bright with affection. “My Omega-mate.” You relaxed into Dean's arms and he began humming softly, continuing to stroke your hair and plant the occasional kiss on the top of your head. “Take a breather, Omega. We've got time.” He murmured. “Sleep good.”

Sleep good.

[justsomebucky]

The Only Exception (Part 7)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,190 (sorry)

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, mentions of trauma, some confrontations, Sam being precious, reader self-reflection, mentions of threats, creepy emails

A/N: Guess who’s back…back again…Reader decides to take control of her life and do what she thinks is best. I really liked this part. That’s probably why I went a little crazy.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

You kept your eyes focused on the young woman across from you, though she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Today was the first day you were allowed to sit in on a group therapy session, so you started with Dr. Coulson. He was a very serious man, which you learned quickly after making a Dr. Phil joke that didn’t go over so well.

Anyways.

You had just finished your trauma certifications last week, and you decided to start your shadowing sessions with something you weren’t familiar with: work-related injuries and trauma.

Dr. Coulson was employed part-time at the Red Wing community center, using his knowledge as a medical professional to help those with major injuries or extensive medical work cope with the changes to their bodies and minds.

It was an interesting choice, but you realized about five minutes into the session how essential it was to hear from someone who understood the injuries to answer questions honestly, instead of someone who just wanted to make them feel better about them.

The young woman across from you, an Army veteran who was medically discharged, was just one of seven that were circled around you and Dr. Coulson. Each person had a visible wound that contributed to their emotional pain, and you found yourself unable to think of ways to comfort or help them.

Seriously, you were drawing a blank. The empathy was there, but you had no clue how to help.

Thank goodness you were here to learn.

“Mara.”

She looked up and met Dr. Coulson’s eyes at the sound of his voice.

“You can talk about it here, Mara. I’m here to help, and Y/N is here to learn to help. The rest of your session-mates are here for help, just like you. No one is here to judge you.”

Mara’s eyes skimmed the faces around her, finally landing on yours. You kept your face neutral, though you felt so deeply for this woman that you wanted to cry.

But, that would be unprofessional, and you were no longer an overemotional, unprofessional person.

Her eyes flitted back to Coulson’s. “I have pain sometimes,” she admitted. “Where my leg used to be. Isn’t that weird? I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with searing pain in a leg I don’t have anymore.”

Dr. Coulson nodded. “It’s called Phantom Limb Pain, and approximately eighty percent of all amputees experience it.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Coulson shifted a little in his seat, clasping his hands together in front of him. That little motion was like that of a parent talking to a scared child, though it bore no condescension. “Most experts think it’s caused by mixed signals from your brain to your spine, and vice versa. It could be damage to nerve endings nearby, causing neurological misfires. In other words, it’s not ‘all in your head,’ Mara.”

Mara nodded, looking down again.

Your eyes followed her line of sight to her left leg, which was amputated just below the knee. Your heart ached for her, but even more than that, you admired her courage and perseverance.

“What can I do to stop the pains? Can I- will therapy help?”

“I think therapy, along with keeping track of what triggers your pain, could help immensely,” Coulson replied, his voice still gentle. “If you notice patterns, keep track of them. For instance, if you sleep on one side more than the other, and you still have pains at night, then write it down. If cold bothers it, write it down. The more information you can take to your primary care physician, the more they will be able to narrow down why this is happening and help you treat it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Coulson,” she murmured. “That’s all I had.”

“Okay. I think that’s just about all our time for today. Thank you for being here and for sharing. We can all benefit from knowing and caring for each other. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

A chorus of agreement sounded around the room, and you stood and waited to the side while everyone else shuffled out the door.

Dr. Coulson turned to you with a polite, curious smile. “What did you think, Y/N?”

“I think you and everyone at this center do some amazing things,” you answered honestly. “I’m glad to be a part of it, and to try to make a difference in someone’s life.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I don’t expect that you’ll be specializing in injury-related therapy, but I think you have a knack for it, a real empathy that the world is lacking these days.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Phil. Just not Dr. Phil.”

You chuckled, turning to follow him out the door into the main hallway. Phil said a hurried goodbye, trying to get back to the hospital for his shift, while you sort of meandered around until your next session.

The next group that you would be in was a session with Sam, and it was going to be more of your kind of expertise. The participants were of victims of trauma that wasn’t caused by work, but was often triggered by it. You hoped to have a session of your own with them someday, because you were good at finding a root cause to reactions and behaviors. At least, you liked to think so.

You waited patiently outside the darkened room, leaning back against the wall. Your mind was racing with all the things you’d heard and learned today.

A familiar voice ended your reverie.

Sam was speaking, but that wasn’t the voice that did it.

You were almost afraid to look, but you did anyways. Bucky Barnes was strolling down the hallway beside Sam. They hadn’t noticed you yet, but to get to the exit, they had to walk past you.

You felt your stomach do a little flip when Bucky’s eyes met yours. He faltered a bit in whatever he was saying to Sam, who naturally picked up on it right away. Damn him for being so observant.

“Y/N,” he called out, walking over to you, with Bucky lagging behind him a little. “All ready for the next group?”

“Waiting patiently,” you replied, forcing a small smile to your face.

“I was just finishing up with Mr. Barnes here. He tells me that he knows you personally?”

Your smile fell. Why would he mention that to Sam? In fact, what was he doing here?

As if Sam knew what you were thinking, he explained himself. “I ask permission from all the session participants before I have someone new sit in for training. Barnes has been coming to this center for years. When I said your name, he mentioned that he knew you, and I thought maybe that was a conflict of interest. I didn’t want him to feel awkward, so I had his session one-on-one today.”

“Ah.” You felt like an ass now. There’d been no reason to jump to conclusions like you did. Bucky had a life, had personal stuff to deal with outside of you.

You had to stop reacting badly to things where he was concerned. It wasn’t like he’d carried out his intentions, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to make amends. Someone like Sam wouldn’t put up with a bad man.

Bucky wasn’t a bad man.

“How are you, Y/N?” he piped up quietly, moving out from behind Sam. His blue eyes didn’t reveal any emotion, though they were a little red-rimmed.

Your heart ached again, remembering that the restaurant burned down recently. He must have been talking about it in his session. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Fine,” he answered. “I’m sure…you probably saw the news.”

“I did. I am really sorry, Bucky.”

“Let me just interrupt for a second,” Sam interjected. “I have to go see Sharon about something. Please excuse me. Good to see you again, Bucky.”

“You too, Sam. Thanks for accommodating me today.”

Sam nodded, then turned and left the two of you alone.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated. “I saw you on TV that night. You saved her life.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hesitated to try to save someone, family or not.” Bucky looked away toward the door, and you knew he was longing to escape this conversation. “Anyways, the chief confirmed that it was a grease fire. It was just an unfortunate accident.”

You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Do you think the Foundation could help her?”

“No.” He still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “What I mean is, I’ve taken care of it. She’s staying with me while the insurance sorts things out. She might not have a restaurant anymore, but at least she’s got a comfortable apartment.”

“That’s good. I’m glad she has you.” There was a brief pause, but you couldn’t stand silence right now. “Have you been coming here a long time?”

“I have, ever since it opened here in Brooklyn. Partly for how close it was to work, but mostly because they deal with first responders.”

“I work here now.”

“Yeah, Sam told me. Listen, Y/N, before this gets any more awkward, I wanted to apologize again. I haven’t been myself in weeks. Between my ex, my anger, the idiotic plan, the even more idiotic declaration of love…Natasha meant well, but I don’t think I was ready for that either.”

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes finally flickering back to yours. So, Natasha had been the one to coax him to call in and say something. That figured.

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, she didn’t tell me to say that. She just told me that a grand expression of my feelings might help. I panicked and blurted that out. I don’t know how to grandly express myself these days without screwing everything up, it seems.”

You brows furrowed a little. “Emotions aren’t things to mess with. I learned that the hard way at work.”

“I know that,” he agreed readily. “I know. I’m not excusing what I did by any means. I learned the hard way, too, through losing you.”

Your stomach did a couple of those crazy flips again. “By the time you called in, I was already on the Embarrassment Train to Unemployment. I said some crazy shit on the show, too, and messed with peoples’ lives. Natasha helped me realize that I wasn’t treating people well, either. We both have some growing up to do.”

“I, um…” He paused again, looking down at his shoes, his face somber. “Do you remember what I told you before? I thought being a firefighter would be a way to cope with my sister’s death, but it turned out to be a trigger, sometimes.”

“That isn’t uncommon,” you offered, trying to sound helpful like Dr. Coulson.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on anything but you. “So anyways, I started therapy at a private practice first, then I switched to Sam’s group. I sort of slacked off for a while, thinking I was better, but lately I’ve realized that I still need to work through some stuff.”

“Therapy is good for everyone, I think.” He was trusting you with this revelation, something that both amazed and encouraged you. Maybe you should have a one-on-one with someone, too, for your own issues.

“It is,” he agreed. “Sam and all the people here have been so incredible, so helpful. I just…I can’t seem to stop adding to my list of problems, though.”

You could relate. “I’m sorry for disturbing your session. I’m shadowing the group leaders for a couple of weeks so that I can learn how things are done around here.”

Bucky looked back at you. “Don’t apologize for that, you didn’t know.”

“No, but…”

His eyes softened, and his body language seemed to relax, too. “But nothing. It’s great that you’re finally able to use your degree for something you always wanted to do. I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

Well, you weren’t expecting that at all. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“I’m gonna head out. Good luck on the rest of your training here.”

You merely nodded, watching as he turned to leave. You knew he was just doing what you wanted by leaving you alone. A strange anxiety filled you, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from calling out to him.

“Bucky!”

He paused halfway to the exit, then looked over his shoulder in question.

Shit. You should have thought this through.

You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, and now Bucky was staring at you with those big blue eyes.

You decided to just go for it. “Do you, maybe, want to start over? As friends?” Your heart was racing, and Sam’s advice about chances came back to you as you stared at him, awaiting an answer.

Right now, all you wanted was to make everything right in your life, and you’d already started by quitting your job. Now it was time to make peace with people.

He turned his whole frame to face you this time, a small smile appearing on his handsome face. “I’d like that very much.”

You made sure not to walk past the ruins of the restaurant on your way home this time. Part of Sam’s encouragement was to not let the past have such a tight grip on you, and there was no way you were going to disregard such sound advice.  

Sam was so different from May. He was more like a friend and mentor than a boss, because all he wanted to do was help. He genuinely wanted you to succeed in your career. He was your Mr. Miyagi, and you hoped to never let him down as long as you were employed at the Red Wing Foundation.

The sound of your phone ringing made you jump a little, even though you were on a busy Brooklyn street. The name on the caller ID made you smile. “Hello?”

“Y/N! I’m standing outside of your apartment! Where are you?”

“How the hell did you get into my building without me, Natasha?”

“I pressed every single button. Someone buzzed me in. That’s how completely secure this place isn’t, Y/N. Anyways, how far away are you?”

“I thought we agreed to keep our distance because of the gag ord-“

“How far are you?” she interrupted. “I really need to see you!”

You turned the corner and your building came into view. “I’m almost there. Why, Natasha, is something wrong?”

“You could say that. Just get here, okay?”

She ended the call, and you shoved your phone back into your bag with a frown. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Once you made it to your floor, you spotted Natasha sitting against your door, her arms wrapped around her knees as she hugged them to her body. She looked really upset.

The second she saw you, she stood up and motioned at the door. “Turns out, I can’t pick locks.”

“Good,” you scoffed in a joking tone. “Can’t have you inviting yourself over all the time. What if I have a gentleman caller?” You opened the door and let her move inside first, before turning to lock it behind you.

Nat’s eyes widened as she turned back to you. “Have you been dating?”

“On and off. I haven’t really hit it off with anyone.”

This was sort of true. You’d had one date since the blowup with Bucky, with a guy you met on a dating site. He was polite, but boring as hell, and you hadn’t accepted his offer for a second date. You just couldn’t see a future with him. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

But Natasha didn’t need to know that. “Make yourself comfortable. Did you eat yet?” You wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water.

“I’m not even remotely hungry. I came here to talk to you about work.”

Suddenly wine sounded more appealing than water. “Red or white?”

“Red,” she replied without missing a beat. “I know we said we couldn’t talk about it, but Y/N, I have to tell someone.”

“Go ahead. What’s another legal issue?” you joked, pouring the red wine carefully into two glasses, then taking one of them over to Nat.

She accepted it gratefully, taking a small sip. “I don’t have to go into the logistics of the case. This is all new, all stuff that happened in the last two days.”

“Go on.” You walked back over to grab your own glass and the bottle, then brought them both to the coffee table, sitting beside her and giving her your full attention. “What’s been happening?”

“May hasn’t found anyone she likes for your replacement yet,” she informed you. “No one has the background, though she’s certainly made her rounds to try to make someone stick.”

“No way! Who has she forced into filming so far?”

“Me, Maria, Lillian from accounting…she even tried to get Scott to do it, citing his divorce as relatable.”

“Poor Scott.” You shook your head in disbelief. May was bananas. “Do you have to do it again?”

“That’s the worst part. Out of all of us, she said I gave the best advice. She wants to force me into the role next.”

“But with the creepy emailer still on the loose, what then?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. I haven’t told May or Scott or the legal department yet, but I’ve already gotten two email threats.”

You felt your eyes bug out. “What did they say?”

Nat made a face at you. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“The first one said - and this is just me paraphrasing here, because I don’t speak crazy – ‘You’re even less qualified than the last bitch, you should quit now.’”

“Oh my god, Natasha, you have to tell someone!” You shook your head. “You can’t just let this keep happening!”

Her hands wrung together tightly as she stared at you. “The second one said, ‘Once I’m done with the Love Therapist, you’re next.”

You felt a real fear again. This was a direct threat against you; it had been so long since the crazy stalker had mentioned you, that you thought you were in the clear. “Whoever is doing this should have been happy I quit, and leave me be.”

“Apparently they aren’t satisfied. It probably doesn’t help that May keeps bringing you up in comparison.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, a realization hitting you. “It’s got to be someone who works at September Media. It has to be!”

“What?” She sat up, eyes wide. “You think?”

“What else makes sense? The security clearance to get past firewalls, emailing us personally, inside information like knowing about what happened to Leah? It has to be someone on the inside, Nat.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re right, that makes sense. Who the hell would be so involved with something as stupid as a love advice YouTube show that they’d stoop to this level, though? Who at work would be this crazy?”

You leaned back against the couch cushion, trying to go through the directory in your mind. “I don’t think it’s Scott. And I don’t think it’s May. She’s far too involved in the money end.”

“Maybe she’s doing it to stir up controversy for viewership and media interest?”

“She’s got so much to lose, though.”

“Hmm…I think we should keep her on the list of suspects.”

You nodded. “She is sort of delaying the investigation, isn’t she?”

“That could be because she doesn’t want the show to shut down or get bad press.”

“All press is good press to her, though. Ugh! Who else?”

“Leah?”

“Maybe.” You had to admit, that was your first thought when this all started. “Or maybe one of her many contacts, those clients of Tony Stark’s that were trying to wine and dine with her?”

“I can find out who they were,” she offered with confidence. “No problem. One of them already tried to hit me up for some fun.”

“I didn’t get anyone asking me out. Not fair!”

“Did you really want one of those greasy old dudes to hit on you and use you like Leah? Come on.”

“No, definitely not.” You shuddered at the thought. “Anyone else?”

Natasha tapped her chin gently. “What about a viewer? Do you think one of your pieces of advice led to someone wanting to hurt you? Besides emotionally, I mean.”

Your mind went to Bucky, and his original plan to break your heart. It felt like such a long time ago, now that so many things had happened. “I wouldn’t put it past someone, but to actually keep it up this long shows that this person is a bit more damaged than anything we’ve seen before.”

“So are you over that, then?” Leave it to Natasha to read between the lines.

You thought about it for a moment. “Not exactly. It was a bad thing to do. But he’s working on it, you know? He’s trying to be a better, less emotionally reactive person. He’s been going to therapy.”

“How do you know?”

“Long story. Anyways, I decided to take the lead on things. I’m in control of what happens to me now, and I decided we should try to start over as friends.”

“You don’t have to start over with him at all, Y/N. You don’t owe him anything. Not after everything that happened.”

“I wanted to. I think…I think he’s a good person, Natasha. Love, or someone’s idea or impression of love, especially when they’ve been through so much, can cause someone to do some stupid things. It’s certainly not an excuse, but it is an explanation.”

“Ah yes, doing stupid things for love. I can relate.” She let out a big sigh. “Like me fighting with my best friend when she needed me most, just because I wanted to keep seeing a hot fireman?”

You nudged her arm with yours. “Exactly. Or what about me? I let my terrible luck with romance get in the way, and tried to derail the happiness of complete strangers.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she watched you carefully, waiting for you to arrive to your conclusion.

You shrugged, unsure of what else to say on the matter. “He lost his sister, then his fiancée. He almost lost his surrogate mother in a fire recently. I could see why he would become desperate to keep people.”

She nodded, still not saying a word.

“But, he backed off when I asked him to,” you continued, reasoning it out more for yourself than for her. “The fact that he is working through it in a healthy way this time shows he’s making progress. I don’t know…I believe what he told me, and I give him credit for telling me the truth before my feelings got wrapped up with him.”

“Well, you should know better than anyone since you’re a therapist. You’ve tried to analyze me many times.”

“And failed,” you added jokingly.

“Seriously, though, Y/N. That’s great to hear. Even if you can’t be more than friends, at least there’s nothing toxic hanging between you two anymore.”

“Exactly. I don’t need that burden any more than the next person.”

Natasha stretched out her limbs. “What were we talking about again?”

“We were coming up with possible suspects.”

“Well, speculating all night won’t get us any closer to the truth, I’m afraid. We’re going to have to dig a little deeper. What do you say we have an investigation of our own?”

“How?” You gave her a knowing look. “You’re going to go snooping, aren’t you?”

“Maaaaybe. Meanwhile, I think you should compile our suspects and motivations lists. We can take it to the legal department once we have a solid lead.”

“I will try. If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself, right?”

‘Right. Can’t wait for May to come around.” Natasha stood up, draining the little bit of wine left in her glass. “I’ll call you tomorrow with some details. Maybe I can get the emails on a flash drive so we can have someone else review them.”

You followed her to the door, opening it then leaning on it. “If you see anything even remotely suspicious, you call for help, okay? And I don’t mean Steve, or Scott, or me. I mean the police.”

“You, too. I’m actually going to meet Steve at the firehouse tonight, so I should be good. Are you going to be okay?”

You shrugged. “I might have a little trouble sleeping, but other than that I’ll be fine.”

Natasha pulled you in for another hug, then gave you a smile before she turned and walked down the hall.

You shut the door, locking it and putting the chain across for good measure. Then you went around to every window, making sure they were shut and locked, with the blinds closed.

That unwelcome feeling of vulnerability returned as you climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. You decided to leave the light on while you slept, just in case.

It was going to be a long night.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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[cerberus112]

Unexpected Visits

It had been more than a year since I had last heard from Warr. Even then, he had remained unusually silent in our world, which was not unheard of due to the nature of his job. However, it was strange for me. From time to time, I heard echoes of someone doing unusual jobs with surgical precision around the world. Those echoes reached my ears just like ripples of water in a pond, one at a time and not frequently. They were important enough, though, to cause a bit of turbulence in our world. I knew those strikes were Warr’s doing. They all had his signature: no modus operandi at all. I always told myself I would check up on him later on, once I was less stressed with being an intern or with being a primary care physician without payment. I never did.

That was the reason I was so surprised to find Warr in Istanbul while I was traveling abroad with mom and sister. It was a cloudy day, the sun was still trying to peek through all the clouds, and the wind swept through the city as if trying to clean itself. The Bosphorus was feeling rather violent that day, as waves crashed upon the shore with force, sending droplets of water all around. People would still board the many boats to visit the city, just as we had done earlier that day. While we were leaving the Spice Bazaar, I looked to my left as usual, just to know what was going on around me. That was the moment I saw him. Wearing a navy blue suit with a white dressing shirt and a light blue tie, he blended quite well among the crowd. The only thing that gave him off was his golden hair. However, this time I had to do a double check to be sure it was him. I frowned and stared directly to him. Yes, it was Warr. However, he had left his beard grow. As someone like him would do, he kept his beard tidy and formal, not too long to attract attention, yet long enough to make a statement. I stared curiously for a second before excusing myself with my family and walking up to him. As I approached, he smiled warmly. My curiosity sparked again. He wasn’t one for smiles.

“Ah, Wolffe. I finally caught up to you, lad. How have you been?” He said as he embraced me into a tight hug. I hugged him back tightly as well. It had been way too long without knowing about him.

“Warr, it’s been too long,” I said as I broke free from his embrace and stared at him. His eyes were still those ice daggers I remembered, but his hair, just like his beard, was longer. There were more wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, but there was something different about him. His whole body was more at ease, more relaxed than any other time I had seen him before. His lips were curved into a small smile, gentle enough to not be spotted easily but it was there. He seemed quite happy, and that single thought made me smile back at him. “Where have you been, Aiden? I’ve heard traces of your... Surgeries from time to time, yet nothing that could give me a lead of where you were or what you were after. I was beginning to think you had left for good.”

Aiden glanced at me curiously, and I could see the gears inside his mind spinning quickly. I knew that look: he was placing all his info where it should be. There had to be something I didn’t know, or there had to be something more he knew that I ignored.

“It has been long, Wolffe. I’m glad you decided to get help, professional help. It has given you a new chance at life,” Warr spoke gently as he held me by my shoulders, just like an older brother would do. “I am so proud of what you did to keep yourself alive. It takes courage to face your demons, much more so the ones you constantly face.” He gave me a smile as he looked back at my family. There, next to them, a chauffeur had parked quickly. I understood immediately: Warr was offering me the chance to spend the afternoon with him, knowing mother and sister would be well attended. I walked up to them and explained them the situation. They still remembered who he was from our meeting in NYC six years ago. Mother was a bit stranged at first, but then agreed. The chauffer immediately welcomed them in fluent Spanish. I knew from that moment on they would see Istanbul in a way few people could. I told them I’d meet them back at the hotel later on, and they agreed. As the car left, I waved at them before returning to where Warr was.

“There’s no pride there, Aiden. I did what anyone would have done,” I said nonchalantly as I shrugged, avoiding his eyes, “You and I know that well enough.”

We were crossing the bridge that would take us to Galata Tower, and as we did, some sunlight managed to break through the clouds. I adjusted my scarf absently. I felt uncomfortable talking to Aiden after so long and after so many things had happened. It almost felt as if he was someone different. Truth was I was someone different. Probably, he was as well. I glanced quickly at him, seeing him oddly relaxed. He walked with his hands inside his pockets, a half-smile upon his lips. It was extremely odd to see him like that. To be honest, I was sure he knew what I was thinking.

“Wolffe, I know it’s difficult. It’s as if you’re talking to someone different,” his voice was gentle, almost condescending, “but I can assure you I am still the same Warr you know. I’m just extremely glad I can finally see you again. I was desperate, young one,” he said as he looked at me, his eyes for once showing a bit of sadness. “I had no idea what had happened to you. I heard rumors and stories, but I couldn’t verify a single thing I stumbled upon. It was as if you had vanished from this world. I...” he lowered his voice, and I could swear I heard it crack a little, “I feared the worst, Wolffe. In my mind, I kept remembering Arun and I feared I had lost you forever, just like him.”

By now, we were walking uphill through the narrow and bubbling streets of Istambul to Galata Tower. Warr remained silent for a while, giving me time to process what he had just told me. Aiden believed I had gone undercover, but couldn’t trace me at all. I never did such thing. Even more so, I had no time to even plan or think about it. Then, it all clicked. He believed I had died. I stopped on my tracks immediately.

“Aiden, wait. You thought I had died?” I asked, both confused and surprised.

He stopped as well, but did not turn to face me. He raised his eyes to Galata Tower, rising above all the buildings, avoiding my gaze. I took a step forward, and then I noticed his deep breaths. I was frozen in place. After a moment, he turned around to face me. Tears were streaming down his face, and his smile had disappeared. In its place, all I could see was sorrow and immeasurable sadness. His eyes were pleading for something I couldn’t understand and, frozen in place as I was, I couldn’t do anything for a second. He cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking quietly.

“I did. I... I thought you had blocked me out of your life for my own good, so I wouldn’t be in so much pain. I thought you had finally reached your breaking point, and I blamed myself for not being able to be there when you needed me most. I couldn’t even go back and apologize for what I had said after you finished your intern year, and it was tearing me apart not knowing for certain what had happened to you. In my mind,” he said urgently, now taking a step towards me, his eyes finally showing all the desperation he had kept concealed, “in my mind you were gone, Wolffe. I did everything I could. I called every single contact, I pulled every string I had to find you. I even did some... Things I am not proud of, but I had to know what had happened,” his desperation was now completely heartbreaking. “Wolffe, you’re my brother, my wolf-brother. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you at all. You’re the only family I have left, the only good thing that has happened to me in my whole life even if I took you down a path of darkness which you chose to explore and master. At first, I was looking for an apprentice for when I had to retire, which I was already planning to do. But then it became something else. You were so eager to learn, and there was, and still is, so much potential in you that I just knew I had to show you how to use it. I never showed how important you were to me because it would mess up with the training, but after that first time we met in NYC and you decided to be my apprentice, my life changed.” Warr took a handkerchief from one of the inside pockets of his jacket to wipe his tears away, clearly not used to show any emotion, even less this kind of desperation. “For the first time in a long, long time, I was able to look past Arun’s death. I was able to look forward to the future, lad. You saved me when no one else thought I was worth saving, or even knew I needed to be saved.”

Aiden then looked away, clearly distressed at his lack of self control and public display of emotion. I just did the only thing I could think of: I hugged him. I gave him a bear hug which definitely took him by surprise, but immediately answered. I could feel him shudder, a clear sign of his tears, and his impulse of controlling his emotions. However, I also felt how he relaxed into the hug, enjoying the feeling and, for once, feeling peace. In my mind, I couldn’t even imagine what he had been going through.

“I never blocked you out, Warr. I thought you had finally left for good, I thought you saw me unfit for the job,” I spoke gently as I hugged him, “I am so sorry, Aiden. I don’t even know what I did to go undercover. I have no idea how or what I did. I’m so, so sorry.”

I had no words left to say. To be completely sincere, I didn’t know what else to say. Warr let go of the hug first, and when he did, I looked at him. His whole mask had faded. For the first time since I had met him, I could see the real him. He had told me what had happend to him when he was a teenager, what had happened to Arun and how it had changed him, but he never let it show. Now, for the first time ever, I could see it. He was much more broken than what he really showed, and I couldn’t blame him. However, this past year had taken a high toll on him. From experience, I knew that keeping a beard is not a sign of dedication, but one of lack of direction. Aiden looked at me, as if trying to apologize.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s the first time you really show what you feel. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m here, I’m not gone.” I looked around to find somewhere we could talk, and I spotted one of the many cafés near the area. “Let’s get some coffee and sit down, okay? We can talk as long as you want to sort this mess we’re both in. Coffee’s on me. What do you say, Warr?” I gave him a smile as I elbowed him. He gave me a small smile as he squeezed my shoulder and nodded.

“I’d love to have some Turkish coffee. They say it’s the best.”

“Well, it’s alright,” I said calmly as we walked into the café, “It’s imported from Brazil, Colombia, or Mexico, so... There’s that.” He laughed lightly at that comment.

“Lets get some coffee. There’s still much to talk about.”

[elsevierstudentlife]

Author Spotlight: Advice from Angela Silvestri, PhD, RN

Angela Silvestri, former Elsevier Student Ambassador and co-author of Saunders Strategies for Test Success, recently chatted with the Student Ambassador team to offer some advice for current nursing students regarding stress-management, preparing for the NCLEX, and life after graduation.

1.       Tell us a little about yourself and how you got into nursing.

When asked what I wanted to do with my life and as a career, I always answered that I wanted to work in the medical field. At first my ambition was to become a physician; however, learning that nurses interact with their patients more often than physicians do swayed me to pursue nursing. While in nursing school, I worked as a tutor for my peers. I realized how much I enjoyed doing this and how much of a difference my help made in these students' college careers and ultimately their lives.

I received my baccalaureate degree in Nursing and Sociology at Salve Regina University in Newport, Rhode Island. After earning my degree, I worked in long­ term care, rehabilitation, and acute care settings. I then went on to earn my master's degree and PhD in Nursing and published the findings related to cultural competence in the curriculum. I am an Assistant Professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and teach Fundamental Skills and Medical-Surgical Nursing in the didactic, simulation, skills lab, and clinical settings. A primary goal of mine is finding the best student-centered teaching strategies to help students transition to successful nurses at practice.

Working with students while having been a student for quite some time helped me understand and realize the individual needs of each student. This experience, in addition to my experience in item writing and other contributions to nursing textbooks, has helped me co-author Saunders Strategies for Test Success. I am very excited to be a part of this opportunity to further assist nursing students in their ultimate goal: passing nursing school and the NCLEX® exam!

2.       What’s your best advice for preparing for the NCLEX?

It’s best to take NCLEX soon after graduating from nursing school. I recommend taking it within 1 month, and not waiting any longer than 3 months to take it. During this waiting period, a schedule needs to be developed, just as if you were still in school. There are many NCLEX review products available, but my favorite approach is to have a brief content review based on body system, followed by questions and answers. Look for a review product that gives rationales (which explain why the correct answer is correct, and why the incorrect answer is incorrect), and test-taking strategies. There are products including books and online resources that utilize this approach.

I do also recommend attending a live review session for NCLEX preparation. These sessions remove you from isolation and help you have discussions about certain ideas that may have been difficult for you to master on your own. At a minimum, when preparing for NCLEX, you should do 200-300 questions per study day. You should also plan off days for you to relax. There are some products that will generate a study calendar based on your responses to a 75-question pre-test. I highly recommend this, because it takes the guess work out of designing your study schedule.

3.       What tips do you have for handling stress while in nursing school?

It’s all about organization. There’s no way around it, nursing school is hard. No matter the program type or level, there will not be an easy semester. The stress from nursing school comes from feeling like there’s not enough time to accomplish everything you need to do.

Being organized, and having a plan of attack is what will help you to be most successful. On clinical days, try not to plan much in the way of studying, since you’ll be so tired. Also, think about the time of day that is most successful for you to study. Early morning works for a lot of people, and sometimes night time is better for others. Depending on your preferences, develop a strict schedule, and stick to it. If you’re able to feel prepared for class, exams, and clinical, your stress will be significantly managed.

Another thing you should try to do is promote your energy level by exercising a few times a week and eating healthy. Your brain will be more functional if you adapt healthy lifestyle habits. Use healthy coping mechanisms for stress, and stay away from alcohol. Enlist the help of friends and family wherever you can, it makes a huge difference!

4.       How has your perspective changed from being a nursing student to an educator?

As a lifelong learner, I can always empathize with my nursing students. Since becoming an educator, I have gained an appreciation for the rigor of nursing programs. From the perspective of an educator, I have learned that the things we tend to gloss over as students, are actually very important. An example would be a school’s program outcomes, or the course objectives for a specific course. These are designed in a way to ensure that the students in the program are gaining exposure to the appropriate and most timely content, in an already content-laden curriculum.

I remember being a brand new nursing student in clinical, and I remember how I felt like I didn’t know anything, and needed to be guided through everything I did. Since becoming an educator, I also have gained an appreciation from this perspective, because it does take time and energy to teach someone. I’ve worked with many students in clinical and during preceptorships, and I’ve had the opportunity to watch them grow.

While there are many more examples I can think of, the last thing I would say is that, as an educator, I’ve realized that no matter your position, you will always be learning. There will always be a need to brush up on previously learned material, and as health care constantly evolves, you will have to learn new things all the time as well. Nurses of the future will have this understanding, and will realize that with advances, new medical technology, new medications, and new treatments and procedures, there is an implementation of best evidence. This is a very exciting time to be a provider of health care.

5.       If you could redo nursing school, what would you do differently?

If I could redo nursing school, I would do many of the things I’ve already mentioned, but I would also love to have a preceptorship in my program. We didn’t have this as an option at the time, and only had traditional clinical. A preceptorship allows for the student to develop autonomy while guided by a bedside RN, meanwhile building relationship with staff in that area. One of the hardest things for me was finding a new graduate position as an RN, and a preceptorship would have helped with that, I believe.

6.       What are your thoughts on the future of nursing?

With an evolving political climate, there is opportunity for nursing to influence major decisions in health care in the future. Nursing has always had a soft voice in politics, which subsequently has resulted in poor representation of what nurses really do. It also does not allow for the nursing perspective, which is quite unique and valuable, in the construction of health care processes. With nurse leaders emerging in the political forefront, I am hoping to see more involvement from nurses in health care legislation.

Advanced practice nurses are also being afforded the right to independent practice in many states now as well. As midlevel providers, advanced practice nurses offer a very valuable service to health care consumers, while easing the burden on physicians. This paves the way for interprofessional collaboration in patient care decisions as well, which will likely increase the quality of health care.

Nurses are also becoming involved in leadership positions in other ways, such as through education and research. Nurse scientists are securing grant funding and working on many different types of research, all of which will contribute to forwarding the science of nursing and health care overall.

7.       What’s the biggest misconception as a nursing student?

Nursing students oftentimes do not recognize their worth. As nursing students, you have made a decision to enter a very exciting profession, which offers endless opportunities. You will always be needed, no matter what your end goal is. If you can just get through nursing school, you will find that you have joined one of the most rewarding, exciting, and challenging professions there is. It is worth it, and so are you! So, don’t feel like you’re “just a nursing student,” and don’t feel like you “don’t know anything.” This is the biggest misconception I see among my students, and you need to realize how much you’re needed.

8.       What do you love most about working with students?

Teaching is a passion of mine, and I love being there to witness my students learn something new, and seeing the “light bulb turn on.” There also is a moment at some point during nursing school, that occurs at a different time for everyone, where as a student you think, “I get it now. I know what it’s like to be a nurse, and I know what I’m doing.” As an educator, I can usually see when this change in mentality occurs. Being a part of that growth is very exciting. I also love to visit my past students to see what they’re doing. It’s fun to think back to how they were as students, and to see how their confidence has just exploded since then. Students often underestimate their capabilities, and I think they will be quite surprised with themselves as time goes on. Once they begin to understand their capabilities, is when they gain confidence in their personal practice.

9.       What else do students ask you about?

I get a lot of questions from my students about what they should be thinking about after they graduate from nursing school, aside from taking the NCLEX and getting their first job. I would like to take this opportunity to say that wherever you work, you will be in an area where you are making a difference. If you are thinking about advancing in nursing, consider going back to school within 2 years or you may lose sight of this goal.

There are many different programs available now, so you need to decide where your focus of advanced nursing practice will be. You can become an educator, researcher, advanced practitioner, administrator, or executive. I recommend speaking with someone in each of these areas to decide what would be your best fit. In many cases, you will be able to do more than one of these things with an advanced degree. Either way, you will be fulfilling a critical societal need by advancing the profession of nursing.

For more advice on not just surviving but thriving in nursing school, check out Saunders Strategies for Test Success, co-authored by Angela Silvestri, PhD, RN.

[kinkykinard]

S is for Stress (19/26)

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS/TOS) Pairing:  ReaderXBones Prompt: Fic 19 of 26 in the CMO’s Log – A to Z series.  Click here for a listing of all the fics in this series!  S is for Stress.  Academy era AU. Word Count: 2263 Warnings: None. Rating: All ages. Author’s Note: This one goes out to all those out there who are going through some kind of stress or other right now.  I know I could have used someone like Leonard while I was preparing for my last round of exams.  

S is for Stress You throw your stylus down in frustration as you finish writing out the last of the study notes you’re making for your third year Advanced Robotics class.  You’ve been studying for your upcoming final exams for weeks and tomorrow morning is your first – and most dreaded – one.  Sighing, you run a hand over your tired eyes and scroll back to the beginning to read your notes again. A quarter of the way through your material, a knock on your door sounds and you instruct the computer to unlock it. Without hesitation, the door slides open and you can tell just by the footfalls behind you that it’s Leonard who has entered your quarters.

“Hey darlin’,” he says softly, striding over to where you’re seated at your desk and settling his hands on your shoulders. “How’s the studying going?” You groan in frustration by way of answer and he chuckles. “That well, huh?”  He says gently, and you can hear the smile in his voice.  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” You shake your head, turning your attention away from your notes to look up at him over your shoulder.   “I just want to review these notes one last time,” you explain. “If you don’t know it now, you probably won’t in time for the exam,” Leonard says apologetically. “I do know it,” you assure him.  “It just never hurts to take one last look.” He nods and, as you turn back to look down at your PADD, begins to knead your shoulders gently.  You moan softly at how amazing it feels to have him working the tension out of the muscles there and it’s all you can do to focus on your reading as he massages the aches away. “You’re tense,” he comments.  “Are you nervous?” You nod a little; enough to answer him but not enough to disrupt his kneading. “I’ve been stressed out about finals for weeks,” you reply.  “I have really bad exam anxiety and I know that I know this stuff inside-out and backwards, but I still feel like I’m going to screw it all up.” “You won’t screw it up, sweetheart,” Leonard reassures you.  “But if you’re really worried about it and need a day or two more to prepare yourself, I can write you a deferral letter.  As your primary care physician I have the authority.” You smile softly, leaning back so you’re sitting straight up in the chair as his warm, deft hands continue to work out the knots in your shoulders and neck.  Part of you wants to take him up on his offer, but the other part of you just wants to get the exams over and done with so you can finally properly relax. “No, but thanks,” you murmur.  “I’d rather not have to wait another week or two to be done – that’s just another week or two for me to spend freaking out. I’ll be okay.” “Then give me your PADD and come join me on the couch,” Leonard offers.  “You can snuggle up with me and I can quiz you on this stuff.” You smile as you hold the PADD up over your shoulder for Leonard to take. “That sounds lovely,” you agree. You miss his touch as soon as his hands leave your shoulders and you stand up, stretching your aching, bunched muscles before following him over to the sofa.  You give him a moment to get comfortable and then you curl up against his side, drawing your knees in to your chest as he wraps an arm around you. He holds the PADD in his free hand, far enough away that you can’t read what’s on it, and begins to flip through the information you have gathered there. As he begins to ask you questions, you respond automatically, reassuring yourself that you know the material cold. You close your eyes after a little while, inhaling deeply and feeling warmed by the scent of his cologne; it’s something dark and spicy, and it’s comforting in its familiarity. The two of you spend an hour reviewing before you’ve gone through the remainder of your material and you let out a long exhalation as Leonard powers down your PADD and sets it aside.  He leans in to press a kiss to your temple and you shift so your head is resting on his pec, his heartbeat echoing in your ear. “Thanks, Lee,” you murmur.  “Now all I need is a good night’s sleep and maybe I won’t fail this exam.” His hand absentmindedly strokes your hair as he looks down at you, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath your eyes and the frown of your mouth.  He glances at the chron and realizes it’s getting late – not really, but late enough that you should be getting to bed in time for an 0800 exam the following day. “Why don’t you wash up and get changed?” He suggests.  “I’m going to run and get something to help you sleep.” You shake your head. “I can’t afford to be drowsy in the morning,” you rebut. “You won’t be,” Leonard promises.  “Have I ever lied to you?  Just trust me.  I’ll calibrate the dosage so you’ll be right as rain by 0700 hours so you’ve got plenty of time to shower and eat a good breakfast before your test.” You consider his words for a moment and finally nod in agreement.  You sit up, moving away so Leonard can stand, and you take the hand he offers you a moment later so you, too, can get to your feet.  You smile as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips and you watch him leave with a promise that he’ll be right back. Moving to your private bathroom, you quickly brush your teeth and comb your hair.  You fill up the glass that resides on your counter with water and savor it, setting the empty back down again before stepping back into your bedroom. You groan as all of the muscles in your neck and shoulders ache from all of the tension you’re holding there while you pull off your clothes.  Stretching your arms over your head, you whine softly at the pain that comes before the relief. You open the dresser next to your closet and pull out your favorite, most comfortable pair of pajamas.  Slipping into the familiar, nearly threadbare shorts and tank top, you move to your bed and turn down the covers.  Kicking off your slippers, you climb into bed and lie back against your pillow, groaning at how good it feels to be relaxing even a little bit. You’re still tense a few minutes later when Leonard returns, slipping into your quarters quietly with his kit in hand. The embrace of the pillowtop beneath you and the comforter on top are inviting and welcome, but you can’t get comfortable.  In the silence of Leonard’s absence, all sorts of awful scenarios had played themselves out in your head and now you’re jittery.  It doesn’t’ escape Leonard’s notice, either, as he immediately reaches out for you when he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Take a few deep breaths for me, darlin’,” he instructs you as he meets your gaze, his expression reassuring. You’re amazed at how much better you feel for seeing him – though the stress is still wreaking havoc on your body, his stalwart reassurances, stoicism, and unwavering cool countenance make you trust him when he says everything will be okay, and make you listen as he tells you to breathe. You watch him as he reaches into his bag and produces a tricorder, and you can’t help rolling your eyes at him.  Always the consummate professional.  Your expression isn’t lost on him and he smiles softly as he scans you. “Just making sure you’re hydrated enough,” he explains.  “It’s important for how your body handles the drug I’m going to give you.  The good news is, everything looks fine.” He puts the tricorder away and loads a vial into a hypospray, holding it out toward you, giving you another chance to refuse if you want to.  You don’t, however, and he treats your silence as permission.  One of his hands is gentle against the angle of your jaw as he encourages you to tip your head back and relax, and the other is swift and competent as he presses the hypospray to your skin and injects the medication before you can really even sense the stinging.   As he puts the hypo away, you rub at the spot he’s just injected, making the small bit of pain there dissipate in moments. His attention is back on you a second later and he reaches out, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re going to ace that exam tomorrow,” he says with confidence.  “And all of the others.  You’ll leave everyone else in the dust.” You can’t help but chuckle at his words and you sigh a moment later as you feel a wave of warmth and sedation wash over you. You lick your lips and feel your eyes fluttering closed.  You cling to Leonard’s hand, a bit startled by the feeling, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he soothes you. “It’s alright darlin’, I’ve got you,” he says softly.  “You’re doing great.  Let yourself sleep.  I’ll be right here.” You do as he says and he is; he’s still by your side when you wake up in the morning, though now he’s pressed up against you, sleeping with his chest to your back.  He stirs as you turn off your alarm and you sit up with a yawn, shaking off the waking warmth of a fading sleep.  You quickly realize that he’d been right: you slept amazingly well and you don’t feel the least bit drowsy.  Smiling, you glance at him over your shoulder, doing your best to quell the fresh wave of anxiety that breaks over you as you think of the exam you’ve got in an hour. “You’re the best,” you say brightly.  “I slept like a baby.” He grins smugly and you can’t help rolling your eyes. “I’m going to go get changed for the day,” he calls to your retreating back as you head in to the washroom.  “I’ll meet you in the mess hall.” You shower quickly and get changed, forcing yourself not to power up your PADD for one last quick glance over your notes. You know you know your stuff, and you have to be satisfied with that or else you’ll miss breakfast. Heading out of your quarters, you make it to the mess hall and glance around, noticing Leonard waving at you from a nearby table.  You head over and sit down, looking at the tray in front of your spot.  It’s got a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and a container of your favorite yogurt.  He wasn’t joking last night when he’d said you needed to eat a good breakfast, and it looked like he was ready to sit and make sure you did just that. “How’re you feeling, Y/N?”  He asks as you pick up the coffee and take your first sip, savoring it. “Okay, I guess,” you reply honestly.  “I’m still really freaked out, but I’ve got to get it over with, right?” He nods and reaches out to take your free hand as you down the rest of the coffee.  You watch him over the lip of the cup, wondering what he’s up to as he pulls a small spray bottle out of his pocket and uncaps it.  He sprays a little spritz of the liquid inside on your wrist and you’re both content and confused as you inhale and smell his familiar cologne. “Smell is the strongest sense tied to memory,” he says by way of explanation.  “I figured since you could smell my cologne while I was helping you study last night, maybe this would help you recall some things during your exam this morning.” You’re touched by his sentiment and you beam at him, setting your cup down. “Thank you,” you say with a grin.  “It couldn’t hurt, right?” He returns the smile and the two of you finish your breakfast in silence.  You glance at the chron on the wall to check the time as you finish and you stand up swiftly. “I have to be across campus in ten minutes!” You yelp.  “Can you take care of this for me, please?!” You gesture to your tray and Leonard nods, reaching out to take your hand.  He gives it a quick squeeze and lets you go.  You’re already rushing away as you wave to him, heading for the exit. “Good luck, Y/N!”  He calls to you.  “You’ll do great!” You’re smiling as you run across the courtyard and head for the robotics building.  As you jog, the heat of your skin causes the scent of the cologne he sprayed on your wrist to intensify and fill the air around you.  You breathe it in deeply and feel yourself relax a little bit, especially when you consider that in a few short hours, after your exam, you’ll be enveloped in that smell again as Leonard hugs you in celebration. Walking into the room, you find your seat and pick up your stylus.  As the clock strikes 0800 hours, you settle in and let it fly across the screen. Stress or no stress, you’ve got this.

@whatsthematterwithamelia @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @feelmyroarrrr @starshiphufflebadger @ababyinatrenchcoat @trekken81 @fandomheadrush @yourtropegirl @theonlyparadox @musingsongbird @the-alpha-otter @gerardnot-gerald @arrowsshootyouforwards @alluramc

Graphic by @wonders-of-the-enterprise

[vcaffeinear]

Is Your Doctor Gaslighting You? Here's What to Do

Four years ago, Deborah J. Cohan went to her primary-care doctor with excruciating pain throughout her midsection. “I wasn't able to stand up straight. Eating and going to the bathroom were uncomfortable,” Cohan, who lives in South Carolina, tells Health. She had a hunch it was gynecological, but her doctor dismissed the idea. Declaring it to be back pain, she prescribed Cohan muscle relaxants.

They didn't work. Neither did over-the-counter pain relief, ice, heat, chiropractic care, or stretching.

A few days later, Cohan's pain was so bad, she went to the ER. But instead of getting help, she only encountered more pushback.

RELATED: 12 Horrifying True Stories of Doctors Behaving Badly

The doctor on duty confidently announced that Cohan had uterine fibroids. When she pointed out that she didn't have a uterus anymore-it had been removed in that same hospital the year before-“the doctor was adamant I was mistaken,” she remembers.

Not until Cohan's ob-gyn came onto the scene was the right diagnosis finally made. Cohan's ovaries had twisted and fallen from their normal position-a condition called ovarian torsion. It's considered a medical emergency and, if left untreated, can be fatal.

After immediate surgery to remove both her ovaries, Cohan recuperated quickly. Still, “this experience confirmed what I've long believed,” she says. “Women need to embrace, trust, own, and protect their own bodies.”

In other words, doctors won't always do that for you. In fact, your doctor might even try to gaslight you.

"Gaslighting" happens when one person tries to convince another to second-guess their instincts and doubt their perception that something is real. Medical gaslighting happens when health-care professionals downplay or blow off symptoms you know you're feeling and instead try to convince you they're caused by something else-or even that you're imagining them.

A disconnect-or disrespect?

As the #MeToo movement continues to bring allegations of sexual harassment and sexual assault into the daylight, it's illuminating another unsettling gender-based offense: how women's health issues often go ignored, undertreated, or misdiagnosed by doctors.

“It's a true phenomenon,” G. Thomas Ruiz, MD, lead ob-gyn at MemorialCare Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, California, tells Health. “Gender bias is a harsh opinion as to why [it happens], but there's some pretty good research to support that.”

RELATED: 4 Signs You Should See Another Doctor for a Second Opinion

Granted, some gynecological disorders, like endometriosis, are notoriously tricky to diagnose. But it's not just women's health issues that doctors tend to downplay.

For instance, women with heart disease are prescribed less medicine and offered surgery less often than men. Women are also less likely to get treatment for conditions ranging from strokes to knee pain, researchers reported in Critical Care Nurse. Go to the ER with severe stomach pain? You'll wait 65 minutes to get help vs. the 49 minutes it takes for men to be offered pain relief, according to a study in Academic Emergency Medicine. 

“Because of the ubiquity of the message-that pain is a normal part of womanhood or girlhood-we have a systemic, societal problem where we all, doctors included, aren't good at sorting out the normal from the abnormal for women's health,” Erin Jackson, a healthcare attorney and founder of Inspire Santé, a pelvic pain nonprofit organization, tells Health. “Women's veracious complaints of symptoms or illness may be labeled as whiny, and we don't trust women to be the experts in their bodies' experiences and autonomy.”

'Being told that I was fine was terrifying'

Jackson knows this firsthand. For 10 years, she was told by physicians that her “stabbing, burning, and tingling” pelvic pain was nothing to worry about. Despite severe cramps, vulvar swelling, and aches in her lower back, “I was told nothing was wrong or encouraged to seek psychiatric care,” she says. “Being told I was fine was terrifying.”

Desperate for answers, Jackson consulted with a “double digit” number of doctors. Many insisted she was perfectly healthy, assured her that her pain was "just bad periods,” or urged her to better manage her stress.

“I've never felt so scared as when I was in the ER and felt that, because the doctor wasn't listening to me, the doctor couldn't help me-but there was nowhere else to go,” Jackson says.

After finally finding a doctor who didn't think her pain was all in her head and referred her to a pelvic floor physical therapist, she's since become pain-free. But through her nonprofit, “I've heard from women whose experiences are so similar to my own that I could've written the story,” says Jackson.

Many, she says, are repeatedly told by their doctors that painful periods and sex are simply “normal.” “If you don't speak up for yourself or how much pain you're in, [your issue] may go overlooked,” Yvonne Bohn, MD, ob-gyn at Providence Saint John's Health Center in Santa Monica, California, tells Health.

A new ad for Orilissa, the first ever FDA-approved drug for endometriosis pain, even plays on that theme. “Any pain?” a doctor asks a female patient who's come in for a checkup. “Kinda,” the woman shrugs apologetically. It's not until her inner voice comes to life and shouts at her, “Speak up!” that she finally does.

RELATED: How to Get Your Doctor to Listen to You

Get the care you need

Think you're being gaslighted by your doctor? Here's what to do.

Find a provider you bond with. “You shouldn't be looking for someone you want to have drinks with. That isn't the goal,” Dr. Bohn clarifies. “But you do want someone who is honest and direct” and truly listens to you when you speak.

Prioritize your concerns. “As physicians, we're under a lot of pressure,” admits Dr. Bohn. “We have too many patients and not enough time.” If you come to an appointment with a list of 15 questions, your doctor may struggle to get to them all. Instead, focus on a few of your most urgent concerns. Many doctors can now weigh in on less important issues by email.

Advocate for yourself. “If you don't believe the first opinion you get, get a second,” Dr. Ruiz advises. In some cases, you may need to insist on a consult with a women's health professional.

And don't necessarily steer clear of male doctors. “I know as many insensitive female ob-gyns as male ob-gyns,” acknowledges Dr. Ruiz. “Find a physician who listens to you and takes your complaints seriously.”

[tankeflukt]

Is Your Doctor Gaslighting You? Here's What to Do

Four years ago, Deborah J. Cohan went to her primary-care doctor with excruciating pain throughout her midsection. “I wasn't able to stand up straight. Eating and going to the bathroom were uncomfortable,” Cohan, who lives in South Carolina, tells Health. She had a hunch it was gynecological, but her doctor dismissed the idea. Declaring it to be back pain, she prescribed Cohan muscle relaxants.

They didn't work. Neither did over-the-counter pain relief, ice, heat, chiropractic care, or stretching.

A few days later, Cohan's pain was so bad, she went to the ER. But instead of getting help, she only encountered more pushback.

RELATED: 12 Horrifying True Stories of Doctors Behaving Badly

The doctor on duty confidently announced that Cohan had uterine fibroids. When she pointed out that she didn't have a uterus anymore-it had been removed in that same hospital the year before-“the doctor was adamant I was mistaken,” she remembers.

Not until Cohan's ob-gyn came onto the scene was the right diagnosis finally made. Cohan's ovaries had twisted and fallen from their normal position-a condition called ovarian torsion. It's considered a medical emergency and, if left untreated, can be fatal.

After immediate surgery to remove both her ovaries, Cohan recuperated quickly. Still, “this experience confirmed what I've long believed,” she says. “Women need to embrace, trust, own, and protect their own bodies.”

In other words, doctors won't always do that for you. In fact, your doctor might even try to gaslight you.

"Gaslighting" happens when one person tries to convince another to second-guess their instincts and doubt their perception that something is real. Medical gaslighting happens when health-care professionals downplay or blow off symptoms you know you're feeling and instead try to convince you they're caused by something else-or even that you're imagining them.

A disconnect-or disrespect?

As the #MeToo movement continues to bring allegations of sexual harassment and sexual assault into the daylight, it's illuminating another unsettling gender-based offense: how women's health issues often go ignored, undertreated, or misdiagnosed by doctors.

“It's a true phenomenon,” G. Thomas Ruiz, MD, lead ob-gyn at MemorialCare Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, California, tells Health. “Gender bias is a harsh opinion as to why [it happens], but there's some pretty good research to support that.”

RELATED: 4 Signs You Should See Another Doctor for a Second Opinion

Granted, some gynecological disorders, like endometriosis, are notoriously tricky to diagnose. But it's not just women's health issues that doctors tend to downplay.

For instance, women with heart disease are prescribed less medicine and offered surgery less often than men. Women are also less likely to get treatment for conditions ranging from strokes to knee pain, researchers reported in Critical Care Nurse. Go to the ER with severe stomach pain? You'll wait 65 minutes to get help vs. the 49 minutes it takes for men to be offered pain relief, according to a study in Academic Emergency Medicine. 

“Because of the ubiquity of the message-that pain is a normal part of womanhood or girlhood-we have a systemic, societal problem where we all, doctors included, aren't good at sorting out the normal from the abnormal for women's health,” Erin Jackson, a healthcare attorney and founder of Inspire Santé, a pelvic pain nonprofit organization, tells Health. “Women's veracious complaints of symptoms or illness may be labeled as whiny, and we don't trust women to be the experts in their bodies' experiences and autonomy.”

'Being told that I was fine was terrifying'

Jackson knows this firsthand. For 10 years, she was told by physicians that her “stabbing, burning, and tingling” pelvic pain was nothing to worry about. Despite severe cramps, vulvar swelling, and aches in her lower back, “I was told nothing was wrong or encouraged to seek psychiatric care,” she says. “Being told I was fine was terrifying.”

Desperate for answers, Jackson consulted with a “double digit” number of doctors. Many insisted she was perfectly healthy, assured her that her pain was "just bad periods,” or urged her to better manage her stress.

“I've never felt so scared as when I was in the ER and felt that, because the doctor wasn't listening to me, the doctor couldn't help me-but there was nowhere else to go,” Jackson says.

After finally finding a doctor who didn't think her pain was all in her head and referred her to a pelvic floor physical therapist, she's since become pain-free. But through her nonprofit, “I've heard from women whose experiences are so similar to my own that I could've written the story,” says Jackson.

Many, she says, are repeatedly told by their doctors that painful periods and sex are simply “normal.” “If you don't speak up for yourself or how much pain you're in, [your issue] may go overlooked,” Yvonne Bohn, MD, ob-gyn at Providence Saint John's Health Center in Santa Monica, California, tells Health.

A new ad for Orilissa, the first ever FDA-approved drug for endometriosis pain, even plays on that theme. “Any pain?” a doctor asks a female patient who's come in for a checkup. “Kinda,” the woman shrugs apologetically. It's not until her inner voice comes to life and shouts at her, “Speak up!” that she finally does.

RELATED: How to Get Your Doctor to Listen to You

Get the care you need

Think you're being gaslighted by your doctor? Here's what to do.

Find a provider you bond with. “You shouldn't be looking for someone you want to have drinks with. That isn't the goal,” Dr. Bohn clarifies. “But you do want someone who is honest and direct” and truly listens to you when you speak.

Prioritize your concerns. “As physicians, we're under a lot of pressure,” admits Dr. Bohn. “We have too many patients and not enough time.” If you come to an appointment with a list of 15 questions, your doctor may struggle to get to them all. Instead, focus on a few of your most urgent concerns. Many doctors can now weigh in on less important issues by email.

Advocate for yourself. “If you don't believe the first opinion you get, get a second,” Dr. Ruiz advises. In some cases, you may need to insist on a consult with a women's health professional.

And don't necessarily steer clear of male doctors. “I know as many insensitive female ob-gyns as male ob-gyns,” acknowledges Dr. Ruiz. “Find a physician who listens to you and takes your complaints seriously.”

[stormdamneron]

Is Your Doctor Gaslighting You? Here's What to Do

Four years ago, Deborah J. Cohan went to her primary-care doctor with excruciating pain throughout her midsection. “I wasn't able to stand up straight. Eating and going to the bathroom were uncomfortable,” Cohan, who lives in South Carolina, tells Health. She had a hunch it was gynecological, but her doctor dismissed the idea. Declaring it to be back pain, she prescribed Cohan muscle relaxants.

They didn't work. Neither did over-the-counter pain relief, ice, heat, chiropractic care, or stretching.

A few days later, Cohan's pain was so bad, she went to the ER. But instead of getting help, she only encountered more pushback.

RELATED: 12 Horrifying True Stories of Doctors Behaving Badly

The doctor on duty confidently announced that Cohan had uterine fibroids. When she pointed out that she didn't have a uterus anymore-it had been removed in that same hospital the year before-“the doctor was adamant I was mistaken,” she remembers.

Not until Cohan's ob-gyn came onto the scene was the right diagnosis finally made. Cohan's ovaries had twisted and fallen from their normal position-a condition called ovarian torsion. It's considered a medical emergency and, if left untreated, can be fatal.

After immediate surgery to remove both her ovaries, Cohan recuperated quickly. Still, “this experience confirmed what I've long believed,” she says. “Women need to embrace, trust, own, and protect their own bodies.”

In other words, doctors won't always do that for you. In fact, your doctor might even try to gaslight you.

"Gaslighting" happens when one person tries to convince another to second-guess their instincts and doubt their perception that something is real. Medical gaslighting happens when health-care professionals downplay or blow off symptoms you know you're feeling and instead try to convince you they're caused by something else-or even that you're imagining them.

A disconnect-or disrespect?

As the #MeToo movement continues to bring allegations of sexual harassment and sexual assault into the daylight, it's illuminating another unsettling gender-based offense: how women's health issues often go ignored, undertreated, or misdiagnosed by doctors.

“It's a true phenomenon,” G. Thomas Ruiz, MD, lead ob-gyn at MemorialCare Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, California, tells Health. “Gender bias is a harsh opinion as to why [it happens], but there's some pretty good research to support that.”

RELATED: 4 Signs You Should See Another Doctor for a Second Opinion

Granted, some gynecological disorders, like endometriosis, are notoriously tricky to diagnose. But it's not just women's health issues that doctors tend to downplay.

For instance, women with heart disease are prescribed less medicine and offered surgery less often than men. Women are also less likely to get treatment for conditions ranging from strokes to knee pain, researchers reported in Critical Care Nurse. Go to the ER with severe stomach pain? You'll wait 65 minutes to get help vs. the 49 minutes it takes for men to be offered pain relief, according to a study in Academic Emergency Medicine. 

“Because of the ubiquity of the message-that pain is a normal part of womanhood or girlhood-we have a systemic, societal problem where we all, doctors included, aren't good at sorting out the normal from the abnormal for women's health,” Erin Jackson, a healthcare attorney and founder of Inspire Santé, a pelvic pain nonprofit organization, tells Health. “Women's veracious complaints of symptoms or illness may be labeled as whiny, and we don't trust women to be the experts in their bodies' experiences and autonomy.”

'Being told that I was fine was terrifying'

Jackson knows this firsthand. For 10 years, she was told by physicians that her “stabbing, burning, and tingling” pelvic pain was nothing to worry about. Despite severe cramps, vulvar swelling, and aches in her lower back, “I was told nothing was wrong or encouraged to seek psychiatric care,” she says. “Being told I was fine was terrifying.”

Desperate for answers, Jackson consulted with a “double digit” number of doctors. Many insisted she was perfectly healthy, assured her that her pain was "just bad periods,” or urged her to better manage her stress.

“I've never felt so scared as when I was in the ER and felt that, because the doctor wasn't listening to me, the doctor couldn't help me-but there was nowhere else to go,” Jackson says.

After finally finding a doctor who didn't think her pain was all in her head and referred her to a pelvic floor physical therapist, she's since become pain-free. But through her nonprofit, “I've heard from women whose experiences are so similar to my own that I could've written the story,” says Jackson.

Many, she says, are repeatedly told by their doctors that painful periods and sex are simply “normal.” “If you don't speak up for yourself or how much pain you're in, [your issue] may go overlooked,” Yvonne Bohn, MD, ob-gyn at Providence Saint John's Health Center in Santa Monica, California, tells Health.

A new ad for Orilissa, the first ever FDA-approved drug for endometriosis pain, even plays on that theme. “Any pain?” a doctor asks a female patient who's come in for a checkup. “Kinda,” the woman shrugs apologetically. It's not until her inner voice comes to life and shouts at her, “Speak up!” that she finally does.

RELATED: How to Get Your Doctor to Listen to You

Get the care you need

Think you're being gaslighted by your doctor? Here's what to do.

Find a provider you bond with. “You shouldn't be looking for someone you want to have drinks with. That isn't the goal,” Dr. Bohn clarifies. “But you do want someone who is honest and direct” and truly listens to you when you speak.

Prioritize your concerns. “As physicians, we're under a lot of pressure,” admits Dr. Bohn. “We have too many patients and not enough time.” If you come to an appointment with a list of 15 questions, your doctor may struggle to get to them all. Instead, focus on a few of your most urgent concerns. Many doctors can now weigh in on less important issues by email.

Advocate for yourself. “If you don't believe the first opinion you get, get a second,” Dr. Ruiz advises. In some cases, you may need to insist on a consult with a women's health professional.

And don't necessarily steer clear of male doctors. “I know as many insensitive female ob-gyns as male ob-gyns,” acknowledges Dr. Ruiz. “Find a physician who listens to you and takes your complaints seriously.”

[warlust]

Is Your Doctor Gaslighting You? Here's What to Do

Four years ago, Deborah J. Cohan went to her primary-care doctor with excruciating pain throughout her midsection. “I wasn't able to stand up straight. Eating and going to the bathroom were uncomfortable,” Cohan, who lives in South Carolina, tells Health. She had a hunch it was gynecological, but her doctor dismissed the idea. Declaring it to be back pain, she prescribed Cohan muscle relaxants.

They didn't work. Neither did over-the-counter pain relief, ice, heat, chiropractic care, or stretching.

A few days later, Cohan's pain was so bad, she went to the ER. But instead of getting help, she only encountered more pushback.

RELATED: 12 Horrifying True Stories of Doctors Behaving Badly

The doctor on duty confidently announced that Cohan had uterine fibroids. When she pointed out that she didn't have a uterus anymore-it had been removed in that same hospital the year before-“the doctor was adamant I was mistaken,” she remembers.

Not until Cohan's ob-gyn came onto the scene was the right diagnosis finally made. Cohan's ovaries had twisted and fallen from their normal position-a condition called ovarian torsion. It's considered a medical emergency and, if left untreated, can be fatal.

After immediate surgery to remove both her ovaries, Cohan recuperated quickly. Still, “this experience confirmed what I've long believed,” she says. “Women need to embrace, trust, own, and protect their own bodies.”

In other words, doctors won't always do that for you. In fact, your doctor might even try to gaslight you.

"Gaslighting" happens when one person tries to convince another to second-guess their instincts and doubt their perception that something is real. Medical gaslighting happens when health-care professionals downplay or blow off symptoms you know you're feeling and instead try to convince you they're caused by something else-or even that you're imagining them.

A disconnect-or disrespect?

As the #MeToo movement continues to bring allegations of sexual harassment and sexual assault into the daylight, it's illuminating another unsettling gender-based offense: how women's health issues often go ignored, undertreated, or misdiagnosed by doctors.

“It's a true phenomenon,” G. Thomas Ruiz, MD, lead ob-gyn at MemorialCare Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, California, tells Health. “Gender bias is a harsh opinion as to why [it happens], but there's some pretty good research to support that.”

RELATED: 4 Signs You Should See Another Doctor for a Second Opinion

Granted, some gynecological disorders, like endometriosis, are notoriously tricky to diagnose. But it's not just women's health issues that doctors tend to downplay.

For instance, women with heart disease are prescribed less medicine and offered surgery less often than men. Women are also less likely to get treatment for conditions ranging from strokes to knee pain, researchers reported in Critical Care Nurse. Go to the ER with severe stomach pain? You'll wait 65 minutes to get help vs. the 49 minutes it takes for men to be offered pain relief, according to a study in Academic Emergency Medicine. 

“Because of the ubiquity of the message-that pain is a normal part of womanhood or girlhood-we have a systemic, societal problem where we all, doctors included, aren't good at sorting out the normal from the abnormal for women's health,” Erin Jackson, a healthcare attorney and founder of Inspire Santé, a pelvic pain nonprofit organization, tells Health. “Women's veracious complaints of symptoms or illness may be labeled as whiny, and we don't trust women to be the experts in their bodies' experiences and autonomy.”

'Being told that I was fine was terrifying'

Jackson knows this firsthand. For 10 years, she was told by physicians that her “stabbing, burning, and tingling” pelvic pain was nothing to worry about. Despite severe cramps, vulvar swelling, and aches in her lower back, “I was told nothing was wrong or encouraged to seek psychiatric care,” she says. “Being told I was fine was terrifying.”

Desperate for answers, Jackson consulted with a “double digit” number of doctors. Many insisted she was perfectly healthy, assured her that her pain was "just bad periods,” or urged her to better manage her stress.

“I've never felt so scared as when I was in the ER and felt that, because the doctor wasn't listening to me, the doctor couldn't help me-but there was nowhere else to go,” Jackson says.

After finally finding a doctor who didn't think her pain was all in her head and referred her to a pelvic floor physical therapist, she's since become pain-free. But through her nonprofit, “I've heard from women whose experiences are so similar to my own that I could've written the story,” says Jackson.

Many, she says, are repeatedly told by their doctors that painful periods and sex are simply “normal.” “If you don't speak up for yourself or how much pain you're in, [your issue] may go overlooked,” Yvonne Bohn, MD, ob-gyn at Providence Saint John's Health Center in Santa Monica, California, tells Health.

A new ad for Orilissa, the first ever FDA-approved drug for endometriosis pain, even plays on that theme. “Any pain?” a doctor asks a female patient who's come in for a checkup. “Kinda,” the woman shrugs apologetically. It's not until her inner voice comes to life and shouts at her, “Speak up!” that she finally does.

RELATED: How to Get Your Doctor to Listen to You

Get the care you need

Think you're being gaslighted by your doctor? Here's what to do.

Find a provider you bond with. “You shouldn't be looking for someone you want to have drinks with. That isn't the goal,” Dr. Bohn clarifies. “But you do want someone who is honest and direct” and truly listens to you when you speak.

Prioritize your concerns. “As physicians, we're under a lot of pressure,” admits Dr. Bohn. “We have too many patients and not enough time.” If you come to an appointment with a list of 15 questions, your doctor may struggle to get to them all. Instead, focus on a few of your most urgent concerns. Many doctors can now weigh in on less important issues by email.

Advocate for yourself. “If you don't believe the first opinion you get, get a second,” Dr. Ruiz advises. In some cases, you may need to insist on a consult with a women's health professional.

And don't necessarily steer clear of male doctors. “I know as many insensitive female ob-gyns as male ob-gyns,” acknowledges Dr. Ruiz. “Find a physician who listens to you and takes your complaints seriously.”