#to be clear my job is nothing to do with psychiatry I just work in a big enough hospital system

[page-doctor-bekker]

Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

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“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

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(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

[thadelightfulone]

Prologue

Story Summary:  Erik Stevens has a wonderful life - traveling around the world, empowering black people, and living life on his terms. There is just one piece that is missing but how will she complete his destiny?

Demi Bishop sat at her desk, gently tapping her fingers on a file. Picking it up, she opened it for the umpteenth time. She glanced over the two sheets inside and then closed it again. She put the file down and pushed it to her left.

She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. It’s been years since she felt this unnerved about meeting a new patient, but this was something new for her. After spending her entire career behind prison walls, Demi was on her own. The freedom of picking her own patients drew her to private practice.

Her first client would be one of the biggest she had ever encountered. She worked with many notorious people during her career, but he is well-known for being a positive influence in the black community. This could be the boost she needs to move from prison psychiatry to mainstream therapy.

--- 3 Days Earlier ---

Demi’s hand felt along the nightstand for her vibrating cell phone. Someone was about to get cussed out waking her up and the sun wasn’t even shining through her curtains yet? She blinked at the bright screen and saw it was her best friend, Xavion calling.

“MiMi, I have a huge favor to ask.” The voice rushed out over the phone line.

“What’s in it for me, Xay?” Demi sighed.

“My undying devotion.” He sang.

“I have that already. Give me something else.” She yawned, glaring at the red numbers on her digital clock that read 4:30am.

“My first child?”

“I don’t want kids.” She mumbled out as she rolled back over and put the phone on the pillow next to her. “One more try and then I’m hanging up.” Demi pulled her comforter over her head.

“Demi, come on.”

Demi’s soft snores could be heard on the line.

“Please. I really need this favor, so I can look good at work.”

She lifted her head off the pillow, “What do I have to do?”

“I have a client for your practice.”

Demi threw the comforter off of her and sat up in bed. She put the phone on speaker and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“So, my boss had this really interesting case where the guy was given mandatory therapy before returning to work.”

“I’m listening.”

“He doesn’t want to do it, but he has to, ya know. So, we told him that we would find a therapist for him to complete his sessions with and sign off on his return. It’s simple, meet with him the minimal number of times allowed by the program and then clear him.”

Demi looked down at her phone in confusion. This could not be her friend asking her to do this.

“Xay, you know that’s not how therapy works. Hell, that’s not even how I work.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s all or nothing. It’s my license on the line if he repeats or reoffends.”

“Trust me. You do not have to worry about that with him. He’s good people.”

“Good people don’t end up in mandatory therapy programs, Xay.”

“MiMi!” He groaned.

“Absolutely not. I understand that your bosses have people on payroll to do shit like this for them and that’s great. But I will not be one of them.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “and for you to even come to me with this bullshit this early in the morning. Thanks friend.”

“MiMi. I didn’t mean to - ”

“You want me to see this man as a client? Then you inform him about how I work. He can see it through to the end and at my recommendation or he can find someone else to buy off.”

“Demi, please -”

“No Xay. Talk to your client and if he is fine with my proposal, you can send me his file.” She hung up the phone.

---

Xavion sent her an electronic file that contained a picture of her new client, Erik Stevens. It contained the court case details and the anger management program paperwork she would sign upon completion. Demi had heard of him and didn’t understand how a man of his status ended up taking the entire blame for this situation.

Handling this case appropriately would provide the exposure she needed to help build her practice. All she had to do was get him to complete the program as outlined by the judge.

---

Erik Stevens looked up at the red brick building and then looked at the note on his phone. This was the place. Apparently, there was a couch with his name on it inside. He was supposed to walk in and speak candidly to some quack for 6 months. There was nothing wrong with him, but the courts didn’t see it that way. Nothing he couldn’t fix during this first visit though.

He entered the lobby and walked to the elevator bank. Erik locked his phone and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He stood back and waited for the approaching elevator car.

Erik looked at his watch as he exited onto the 5th floor. ‘Early is on time, on time is late and late is unacceptable.’ He smiled to himself, “Time to let Dr. Bishop know how things will go.”

The floor had an open layout with a desk in the center and multiple closed doors surrounding it. He appreciated the mix of modern and classic furniture that made up the office suite shared by all the doctors.

He walked over to the receptionist, who gawked at his entrance. She straightened up in her seat as he approached. “I’m here for Dr. Bishop. I have a 3 oclock appointment.”

“Uh, yes sir, Mr. Stevens.” She smiled up at him, “Please have a seat.”

He returned the smile. “So, you do know who I am?” He looked down at her over the countertop that covered her seated position.

Erik surveyed her. Her pressed hair and pearly white smile to her chaste blouse down to her skirt that showcased glistening chocolate brown legs in stiletto heels. He lifted his gaze back to her face and when he met her stare, she immediately looked away.

“Of course, I’ve attended a few of your seminars before. You are the reason I have this job.” She looked at her computer and then back up at him, “You are quite early, but I’ll let her know you are here.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He stood up and pushed back the panels of his jacket revealing a gold lining. Then he leaned onto the counter and followed her line of sight until she met his again, “By the way, what’s your name?” He held his hand out to her.

“Sylvanna.” She giggled and slowly placed her hand in his.

“Sylvanna, what a beautiful name.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

She nodded at him and Erik immediately relaxed his hold on her hand. Sylvanna quickly corrected herself, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stevens,” She took a deep breath and exhaled, “No, I am not.”

“Good girl. Go out with me.”

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. I’ll need your number.” He tapped a notepad in front of her.

Sylvanna flipped to a fresh sheet, wrote it down and gave it to him. He slipped the piece of paper from her hand, folded the sheet and placed it in his pants pocket. He took her hand again and gave it a slight squeeze.

“You can let Dr. Bishop know I am here now.” He winked at Sylvanna, turned and walked away.

She shook her head, took another deep breath and reached for the intercom, “Yes, Mr. Stevens.”

---

For several minutes, Erik stood by the window observing the cityscape. This was his town and his home, Oakland. His work was for his people. He didn’t understand why he was here when he paid people to take care of things like this for him. Why have a law firm on retainer when they couldn’t even get him out of mandatory therapy?

Erik sighed, “Sometimes, you gotta do the messy work yourself.”

Sylvanna called his name. “Dr. Bishop will see you now, Mr. Stevens.”

He turned as he buttoned up his suit jacket to find her standing, “Thank you, Sylvanna.” He walked up to her, “So, where I am going?”

She pointed down the center hallway, “It’s the first door on your right.”

“Great. I will see you later tonight.” He winked at her.

He strode towards the office with a smile as he brushed down his jacket. Erik took a deep breath and knocked before he entered.

“Dr. Bishop?”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. Please come in.”

Erik froze, one hand on the doorknob, at the feminine voice that greeted him. Dark brown eyes hidden behind slim black-rimmed glasses looked expectantly up at him. He closed the door behind him and stepped forward. Erik studied the woman sitting at the large wooden desk. This was gonna be easier than I thought.

She waved her hand to the chair in front of her desk. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dr. Bishop. The pleasure is all mine.” He replied.

Erik walked over and sat down in the straight-backed chair.

“I have some housekeeping things to go over and then we can start.”

Erik watched her shuffle a few files and a legal pad in front of her. Right down to business. She impressed him.

He moved his chair forward and pulled a pen from his jacket. “Great, let me know where to sign.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Bishop snapped at him.

Erik continued, “I am so glad you changed your mind. I need to get back out on the road and speak to all my people.”

He reached for one of the files on her desk. She pulled it out of his reach.

“I think you are mistaken, Mr. Stevens.” She gathered the files together and placed them on a file rack.

---

Does this man really assume that I am going to cheat the system for him? Who the fuck does he think he is?

Demi looked over at Erik as he relaxed into the chair. He unbuttoned his jacket and the lining flashed gold before the suit tails settled around him.

No, he didn’t.

He was wearing a gray pinstripe suit with gold cufflinks. She shook her head as he clasped his manicured hands together on his lap.

He really thinks highly of himself.

“Mr. Stevens, I am aware that you spoke with Mr. Davis about my terms.” When Erik nodded, she continued, “What makes you think I have changed my mind?”

“Well, you have the paperwork in front of you. And there is nothing that YOU can teach me about channeling anger and using it for better,” he moved his hands as he spoke, “I do this for a living.”

Demi smiled at Erik, “Ahhhh, no wonder you are dressed so... impressively.” She pointed at his suit, “This must be your ‘I talk in money’ suit. No wait, it’s your ‘Let’s talk business’ suit.”

---

Erik slowly bobbed his head at her. The more she spoke the more he wanted to hear everything she had to say. He was pleased to say the least. She definitely had a nice read on him.

“You must have thought that you could walk in here and negotiate the terms of your court-mandated therapy.”

“That’s correct.” He sat forward in his seat.

Demi tapped her chin, “So, that’s why you came in here peacocking? Beautiful coat, by the way.”

He watched as Demi stood up and walked around her desk. She stopped in front of it and him.

“Let me introduce myself then.” She leaned against the desk and crossed one of her legs in front of the other. “My name is Dr. Demi Bishop and I will be your counselor as you work through your anger management program.”

A sly smile crept across Erik’s face. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.” She reached beside her and grabbed one of the folders on the desk. “In fact, here is your first assignment.” She handed it to him, “Go ahead and read that before our next session.”

Demi walked around his seat and went to her office door. She opened it and then turned back towards Erik.  

---

She held the door as Erik stood up.

He took the opportunity to get a better view of her. Her loose curls were in a bun, some tendrils framing her cherubic face. She wore a fitted brown blazer over a black sheath dress. Sensible black heels finished the look. Hmmm, what are you hiding Ms. Bishop?

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Stevens. I will see you Wednesday. Preferably at your appointed time.”

He brushed up against her as he passed by and heard her deep inhale once he crossed the door’s threshold.

Erik walked to the bank of elevators and hit the down button. While he waited, he looked inside the folder and found an article about healthy ways to deal with anger. This woman is something else. Erik closed the folder and twisted into a tube. He hid his hand in his pants pocket and balled up his fist.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. Erik looked back at Demi standing in her doorway. He waved to her, “Yes, you will see me again, Miss Bishop.”

A/N: Trying something new. Taglist is open. 

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 9)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2462

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your morning routine began. You opened all the drapes in the house, got Charles up, got the serum from Hank, gave it to Charles, and started on his breakfast. Today was fruit, yogurt, and granola, with tea. 

As soon as Hank and Charles sat down to eat, you were sipping coffee at the breakfast table. 

“I need to go into town to get groceries and some other things. Does anyone need anything?” you asked. 

“Could you grab some more bread and peanut butter?” Hank requested.

“On it, blue man,” you said with a smile as you jotted down the items. 

“Also, could we have something sweet?” Charles asked. 

“Sweet? Sure, anything in mind?” 

“Whatever you want to make is fine. Just a dessert of any kind,” he stated nonchalantly. 

“Okay, will do.” You made note to find something sweet. 

“I’m going to be bored while you’re gone,” he commented with a sly smile. “You do keep my days busy.” 

You raised your eyebrows in thought before clearing your throat. “Have you perhaps given any thought to… well maybe going back to work?” 

Hank immediately stopped eating, his eyes dashing between you two as Charles slowed the motion from his hand to his mouth. 

Hank began, “Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. He just got back on his serum, with his powers and everything. I’m not sure--”

“Actually, I had toyed with the idea a bit,” Charles informed.

“Really?” Hank asked, surprised. 

“Well, why not? I’m capable. It’s time I went back. Y/N here can’t keep paying for all our groceries and we’ll need money for utilities and such soon. I need to give you a wage too, Hank unless you’d like to return to work.” 

“I could do a few hours outside of the mansion, if that’s alright with you,” he suggested. 

“Absolutely. You aren’t slave to this house, and neither are you, Y/N. If you need to go back to your home to take care of your work, I would understand. I don’t need you losing your job over me.” 

“My work is fine,” you assured him. “I’m here for you and only you.” You reached across the table and held his hand. “Do you have any idea what you’d go do?”

“Possibly teach at a local college, maybe get into some research,” he suggested.

“That sounds great. Would you like me to help?” 

“I’ll see what I can get done on my own and if I get stuck, I’ll let you know,” he informed with a smile. 

And so it began. He went and got a haircut, making him fall into the role you thought had pictured him in -- a young, well educated, clean cut man. It some how made him sexier. Not that the long hair looked bad on him, but it represented a dark time in his life. He got several suits dry cleaned and he began to go on interviews. He had about six in one week, and by Friday he took one of the job offers to work with a university that was only an hour away. He spent his days there while you tidied up the mansion, ran errands, made meals, and did a little bit of remote psychiatry. 

Hank sought out work and found a spot doing some contract work for the military. He was to design a new aircraft for them. 

By now, you’d been with Hank and Charles for one month, the routine rather simple. You tried to make sure to keep up contact with Charles every day. Whether it was breakfast, dinner, or telling him goodnight. You wanted that proactive, positive interaction. 

One day, you decided that now that Charles was out of his deep depression, maybe you could get to know each other better in a less therapy-styled way. So it occurred to you to have a dinner date. 

Up until now, you’d refrained from telling him you loved him, outwardly. You mentioned it in passing, and of course you’d voiced that you did love him, but you never actually just stopped to tell him point blank, “I love you.” He seemed a little gun shy about it. Every time you brought up love, being mates, having a history, he seemed to ignore it. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and you weren’t here just to start being romantic. You were here to help him find himself and get back on his feet. As soon as you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t keen on getting lovey dovey yet, you backed off. 

Actually, come to think of it, he had never confessed any feelings at all towards you. Sure, he sent flirtatious messages, called you ‘love’ ‘darling’ ‘sweetheart’ ‘dove’, but he never once said he loved you, not in the last ten years, and not in the last month. You just assumed with the rate at which you kept in contact, and the romantic messages, and the fact that you were soulmates it was a given that he loved you. Yet, now, you realized maybe he wasn’t in love with you at all. Maybe not yet, maybe not ever. 

Now that he seemed to be doing a bit better though, you thought it might be time to start easing into the romantic side of things. Maybe he just needed a nudge, maybe he wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear it. 

You asked Hank if he could take a night in the city, and give you two some privacy. He agreed politely and you set to work on dinner, hoping it would be ready in time when Charles got home. 

You readied a very small table in the middle of his massive kitchen with a white linen cloth, two candle sticks, and a rose in a small vase you’d found deep in the pantry. By the time you were getting ready to set everything on the table, Charles had already walked in. 

He sat his briefcase down with a peculiar smile as he watched you rush around, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“What’s all this?” he asked and you whirled, blushing slightly. 

You stared at him for a moment, completely awestruck at his gorgeousness. He looked fantastic in his suit for work. 

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you answered, “It’s dinner. I thought it might be nice to, uh, reconnect.” 

“Reconnect, hmm?” he mused as he walked forward. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.” 

“Well then take a seat and I’ll get the food over to you.” 

Charles did exactly as you asked and you walked over with a roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. Once everything was plated and ready, you sat down across from him. 

“So, what’s new at work?” you asked, hoping to spark some more conversations with him. You desperately missed how close you two used to be. 

“Not much.” He began to bite into his food, chewing it carefully. “My, this is delicious. You learned cooking from your father, right?” 

“Right,” you agreed. “My mom cooks too, but she doesn’t exactly enjoy it. She only did it when my dad had to work late. My dad loves it though.” 

“How are your parents?” he asked, so casually, as if he’d met them a million times. 

“Doing rather well. They’re starting to consider retirement. I was going to pitch in and give them some money each month.” 

His eyes cast down and a sorrowful look shadowed his expression. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, wanting to reach towards him and comfort him.

“I just realized I haven’t asked you one thing about yourself since you arrived,” he commented in an astonished voice. “What kind of a person--what kind of a mate does that? I don’t even know where you’re working. I haven’t asked what you do during the day. I… I just let you exist in my home as my nanny without asking you anything. I let you cook, clean, care for me. You’re basically my nurse and that is abhorrent. You’re...Well, you’re the love of my life,” he noted with warmth in his eyes.

Time stood still. 

He said that? Did he truly just say that to you? Sure, you two loved each other. You knew he loved you. You just weren’t sure you’d ever hear those words come from his mouth. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for it. You two had been on such different wavelengths lately… well, for a year. He was wrapped up in his own grief, and you were wrapped up in yours. Then you met and his grief stayed while yours shifted into something else, some other new kind of hurt. You had no idea how long it might take to drag him from his darkness. How long before you saw the Charles that wrote you late at night and checked on you throughout the day? 

Yet, here he was. Thoughtful and kind as ever, and you weren’t ready for the emotion, the words that just tumbled from the one man you’d ever loved.  

You smiled down at your food with a laugh. “It’s fine, Charles. You’ve been busy. You’re healing.” 

“Precisely the point. It’s been all about me since you arrived and that just isn’t bloody fair now, is it?”

All you did was slightly shrug and cock your head to the side. You didn’t think of it that way. Sure, you missed your long talks and getting to know each other, but you weren’t here for that. You were here for Charles and to help him get back on his feet. 

“So, tell me. What is it you’re doing these days?” he prodded, a proud smile on his face as he ate. 

“I’m doing psychiatry,” you informed evenly. “I have my own private practice but when I came up to see you, I all but turned my patients over to a colleague of mine. She still sends me files to look at, and I still help in diagnosis, but from afar.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t want you to lose your dream because of me,” he said. 

You reached forward, grabbing at nothing in particular. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I’ll always have patients.” 

“Are you sure? If you need to go back home I can… I can get by,” he assured. Both of you took note of the weight of that statement. You returning home meant unfinished business. Would you return? Would you move in? If so, when? How? How would you leave a life behind? You always knew one day you might have to for Charles, but you had never really given it much thought. 

“They’ll be fine without me for a little while longer,” you guaranteed. 

“So tell me all about it,” he urged again, the excitement back in his expression. “Has it been everything you dreamed of? How is it being independent?” 

You laughed happily at his enthusiasm before diving in. It was refreshing to talk to him about your life, to get a glimpse of the way things used to be for a bit. You weren’t sure if this was how things would stay, or if you’d ever get back to before his disappearance, but for now, for tonight, this was alright. 

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

The two of you wrapped up dinner and he helped you clean the kitchen. 

“I’ve never done this,” he admitted as he stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, helping you load the dishwasher. 

“What? The dishes?” 

“Cleaned,” he clarified before looking at you. It made you laugh loudly and he joined in simultaneously.

“You can’t be serious,” you accused. “Never? Certainly you cleaned your room as a boy, or while the school was going on?” 

He shook his head, raising his eyebrows. “I had a maid as a child, Raven typically took care of housework. Then when the school started, some of the kids pitched in to work in the kitchen, and Hank helped to manage them. My mother never set foot in a kitchen in her life. Always had a chef, and always had a maid.” 

“Sounds like quite the life,” you mused as you put a dish in. 

“What it sounds like is that I was spoiled and wasn’t taught how to be independent and that I’m an expert in taking things for granted,” he stated. 

You made a sad smile, one that he couldn’t quite see from his angle. 

“Especially you,” he said, his voice dripping with guilt. His hands wrapped around your shoulders, forcing you to stand up and look him in the eye. “I wasted a year of our time together, and I’ve spent far too many weeks dwelling in my own mistakes. I won’t squander another moment of our time.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then,” you concurred with a warm grin. 

As you started the dishwasher, you did a quick once over to affirm that everything else was put up, wiped down, and swept. Once you were satisfied, you began to walk out of the kitchen. Charles was beside you and suddenly his hand was down beside yours, inviting you to take his hand. 

It felt so foreign and strange. Physical intimacy was totally new for you. You’d been saving yourself for Charles for over ten years. Now that romantic intimacy was happening, you didn’t know how to feel. 

On the other side, holding his hand felt so right you thought you would implode. You’d wanted to touch Charles the moment his handwriting showed up on your skin. A sensation of calmness swept over you and nothing had ever felt so right. 

All too soon you were at Charles’s bedroom door. 

“Well this is me,” he said with a cheeky grin. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I’d love to do this again tomorrow… Not the backbreaking dinner, but the… well the conversation was nice,” he noted, his hands now back in his pocket. 

“Me too.” 

The two of you stood there like awkward teenagers, blushing and slightly laughing. “Well, goodnight,” he finally said before making a movement towards his door. He opened it, stepped inside, and was about to close it when you blurted something out. 

“I love you more than I could ever express,” you quickly spouted.

The door stopped closing, then it slightly opened, exposing Charles’s form. 

“You do?” he asked, not so much shocked as… as if he wanted confirmation. 

You couldn’t help but let out a slight laugh and shake your head. “Well… of course.” You frowned at him. “What else would you call this?” 

“Madness,” he mused. 

“I am mad for you,” you agreed. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t madly in love.” 

“That’s...uh… that’s good to know,” he said with a smile before bidding you a final good night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[dalamjisung]

read my mind ✿ park jinyoung

word count:6973

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: psychiatrist!jinyoung x resident!reader

description: you work as a barista at night and as a psychiatry resident during the day, what happens when those two lives start to mix?

Fridays are the busiest nights; and consequently, the worst nights. Working at a bar isn’t exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it pays the bills and the tips are too good to just give up on– medical school isn’t cheap, and neither are the loan interests you will have to pay for the next twenty years of your life. You didn’t have time to complain about your job; you had to do it and that’s it.

“Hey!” Someone scream as you continue to gather used cups from the counter. “Another double!”

“Coming right up!” You shout, looking at the older man waving his empty cup. “Be right there.”

“Thank you,” He smiles as you pour his drink, and your skin crawls. With the job came the instinctive reaction to sleazy man, the one that makes the hair on your arm stand, signaling the danger and discomfort to come. “Now, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Working,” You offer him a smile, knowing it will give you points for a good tip. “Excuse me.”

In a bar, there are many different types of people. Desperate people, sad people, happy people, anxious people; it seems that once an emotion overrides all the others, the bar is the place people go to. A bar is a place for celebration, for laughter and good memories; but it can also be a place for misery, for crying and forgetting. It was only a matter of time until you learned how to read people– their desires, their thoughts, their next moves,– eyes intent on the clients, honing the ability to the point that a person didn’t even have to say anything, you just know what they want. Just like how you know this man only wants to flirt, looking for a boost to his ego from a young woman. He wants to feel empowered by all the wrong reasons and you smirk, amused by his antics. However, men like this one don’t easily let go, offended by the realization that you actually have to work and don’t have time for them; therefore, they resort to physical strength.

“Stay for a little bit,” He murmurs in your ear, brining you close by grasping your arm. “I could use the company.”

“Sir, I have other clients to tend to,” The smile on your face contrasts the harsh tone of your voice. “So if you could let me go, that would be great.”

And just like that, you lost your tips. 

“Don’t be like that,” He tries again, and in his eyes you see the look you hate the most: anger. “I’m being nice, here.”

This is usually the time you call your manager with a very smooth and secure shout of his name, but it seems like today is your lucky day and someone wants more tequila shots. 

“I have to go,” You pull your arm but he doesn’t bulge. “Sir, please, I have to do my job–“

“Can you let her go, already?” A man, sitting to the right of your current situation speaks, loud and clear, sounding as fed up as you. “Even I heard her, man… she has shit to do.”

“Mind your own business,” The guy holding your arms spits and you chuckle humorlessly, taking a chance with the sudden distraction and successfully pulling your arm from his grabby hands. You know that it will leave a bruise but you couldn’t care less. 

“Now I will,” Your helper rolls his eyes and looks at you. His hand instinctively move to his empty cup and you are on it before he even opens his mouth, pouring whiskey enough to last him a while. His eyes are wide in surprise and he even cracks a small smile. “You didn’t have to, I was just–“

“You wanted more, so I gave you more,” You shrug, going back to your work. 

“How’d you know?” He asks, cynical of you. “You read my mind or something?”

“Call it an educated guess,” You say, and keep moving, knowing that if you stop, tiredness will wash over you like a tsunami. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

The night ends seamlessly; nothing much happening after that one incident. It’s when you’re cleaning the counter alongside Jisung, your coworker, that it hits you. You never thanked him for his help. But then again, you think, I never asked for it. 

“Y/N,” Jisung calls from where he is putting the cups away. “I think this is for you.”

“Throw it away,” You say not even looking at it. “I’m not interested.”

“Tsk, still trying to die alone?” Jisung laughs, and you laugh with him, knowing that he means well. “You are too beautiful to be alone, Y/N.”

“And you are too beautiful for that boyfriend of yours, but I don’t see you two breaking up anytime soon,” You tease, poking him on your way to the back. “Is he coming to get you?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shouts. “Want a ride?”

“Please,” You answer, relieved that you won’t have to wait for the bus. “I have a big day tomorrow.”

“Nervous?” Jisung asks when you meet him outside, the smoke of the cigarette coming out of his mouth in a swift puff. “Changing hospitals in the end of residency is always hard…”

“I’ll be fine,” You smile tightly. “I had to leave, and you know that…”

“But people don’t,” Jisung looks at you carefully. “I’m just worried about you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” You promise as his boyfriend’s car pulls up. “I’m going to a better hospital with a better paycheck; I’m as good as it gets.”

“Aish, do you only think about money?” He chastises you, frowning. 

“Yes,” You smile cheekily, and his boyfriend laughs. “Until I pay all of my loans, money is the only thing I’ll think about.”

“This girl…” Jisung mumbles, moving to grab Chaewon’s hand. You look at them fondly, knowing that no matter how many times you tell these two that you are fine by yourself and that you don’t want to waste time and energy on a relationship, the truth finds you and, from time to time, you catch yourself wondering how good it would be if you had someone to pick you up from work, too. 

                                                                      ————————

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” You bow with a wide smile, trying to hide the nervousness that comes with a situation like this. “I’m a fourth year resident, nice to meet you all.”

“Fourth year?” Someone whispers and you pretend you don’t hear them. “Isn’t that a bit late to be switching hospitals?”

“It’s good to have you, Dr. Y/N,” One of the nurses step forward, shaking your hand. “We are happy you’re here. I’m Jimin, or Nurse Park, whichever you prefer.”

“Yeah,” A girl steps forward. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Wheein.”

“Hi,” You wave shyly, glad that at least someone is talking to you. “Are you also a fourth year?”

She nods. “Yeah, but I’m with the Pediatrics department.”

“Ah, that sounds like fun,” You chuckle and she laughs with you. “I’m Psychiatry.”

After you say that, it feels like the words could echo in the silent room. 

“W-What? Did I say something wrong?” You whisper with wide eyes, looking at your new friends. Jimin shakes his head and scoffs at his peers.

“Not at all,” He rolls his eyes. “The doctors are just being stupid.”

“It’s just shocking to see such a cheerful person like you working in such a sad place,” One of the doctors says, laughing as his friends nod. “It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it, isn’t that right?”

“Well, of course, Dr… Ahn,” You squint at his jacket, carefully reading his name. “Let me guess; surgeon?”

“Oh!” He exclaims, eyebrows going high. “How’d you know?”

“The hands,” You smile, pointing at his hands. “You’re holding your cup in a way that your hand won’t get burned with the hot coffee…”

“Wow,” He elbows his friend. “Consider me impressed.”

“What makes the Psychiatry ward so sad, Doctor?” 

Your smile is gone, voice cold and cutting. Anyone could see your change in demeanor; eyes suddenly sharp, chest puffed, and chin high. 

“Well, the–“

“Careful there Doctor,” You whisper close to him. “If you say ‘people,’ what will your colleagues think?”

He clears his throat, looking angry and confused. “It’s not–“

“Because if I can recall,” You interrupt him once again, going back to your smiley self. “The surgery room isn’t all that happy, with all the people desperately hanging onto their lives, trusting people like… you.”

“I don’t–“

“Don’t look down on people that can’t be fixed with surgery,” You breath, bowing to him. “I only ask that of you.”

You hear a mumble with some work you dare not to repeat and leave, a stampede of feet following him suit. 

“That,” Wheein point at the leaving hoard of white jackets. “Was fucking cool.”

“I’m not a fan of people like him,” You say, suddenly blushing. 

“And neither is our boss,” Jimin says throwing his arms around your shoulder. “Wait until you meet him.”

And you meet him. Around two hours later, after you are done with rounds and new patients’ admissions. When you see him, however, your heart stops, because that man does not look happy. 

“Who are you?” He asks, not even looking up from his clipboard. 

“I’m your new resident,” You bow. “Y/N Y/L/N.” “What year?”

“Fourth,” You say, feeling embarrassed for the first time.

“Fourth?” And he finally looks up. You don’t think he recognizes you, and you are not dumb enough to ask, choosing to nod instead. “Why?”

“Because I went through the first three already?” You try to joke but it clearly doesn’t work. “Sorry, bad joke. I just thought a change would be… good.”

“Good?” He frowns and his eyes scan you. “Did you get in trouble in the last hospital?” 

You freeze. 

“No,” You shake your head, looking down at your feet. As long as he didn’t recognize you, you’d be okay. 

“If you are lying, I have ways to find out,” He says, and although his voice is soft, his words are harsh. 

“Then please do,” When you finally gather the courage to look at his piercing eyes, you notice how they don’t look as intimidating as his attitude. They are understanding, and you are confused. “I’m here to do my best, Dr. Park.”

“That’s all I ask, then,” He nods. “Have you done rounds?”

“Yes, Doctor,” And you are back in your comfort zone, doing what you do best. Taking care of people that need you. “I also admitted two new patients and they are waiting for your assessment.”

“How long until you are a fellow?” He suddenly asks, reading the information in the chart. His eyes are quick and he scans everything with such precision that leaves you amazed. 

“Three more months, Doctor,” You know this won’t help your case, but you also know you can’t lie to your boss. 

“Hm,” He hums, and gives you the okay on the documents. “You’ve done a better job on these two files than most my fellows do. Keep it going.”

You blink, suddenly whiplashed. Was that a compliment?

“I give credit when credit’s due, Dr. Y/N,” He sighs, chuckling a little and you feel your whole body melt under that voice. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Yes, Doctor, thank you,” You are quick on your feet and back with Jimin, discussing procedures.

“Ah,” Dr. Park calls again. “Y/N?”

Your body tenses, and you think, shit, he recognized me. This is it. He can fire me if he wants and–

“Those two patients you admitted,” He continues, hand on his pockets, looking so flawlessly cool.

“What about them?” You ask, suspicious of his easy going attitude.

“They are yours.”

And he leaves. 

“Did he jus–“

“Oh wow,” Jimin’s eyes are wide, hands suddenly forgetting what they were doing. “Congrats, Y/N.”

“Is this normal?” You sigh. “He’s giving me more headaches than I’ve ever had in my life, and we talked for literally fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin laughs. “That’s Doctor Park Jinyoung. He loves his job and he is not really easy on people, but once you get on his good side, it’s all good.”

“Are you on his good side?” You ask, jokingly poking him in the waist.

“Most definitely,” Jimin says. “He told me once I was the nurse he trusted the most… it makes me sad that he actually has to trust people to do his job. We are medical practitioners, you know.”

“Has any incident happened before?” You frown.

“Yeah,” His voice sounds strained and tired. “One time he caught a nurse referring to patients as “crazy” and he fired her on the spot. Two residents and a fellow committed the same mistake… don’t misunderstand this, they were good doctors, but Dr. Park Jinyoung doesn’t put up with people that invalidates or disrespect the patients.”

“I wouldn’t either…” You whisper, eyes finding the tall man in the hallway, talking with a wondering patient. She is old and looks lost, but he smiles– the most wonderful and peaceful smile,– and guides her back to her room. When he laughs, his cheeks puff and you can’t help but breath out in relief. Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.

                                                                     ————————

“Sorry I’m late!” You call out from the back, already putting on your apron and moving to the front of the bar. “Things got a little hectic in the hospital.”

“Everything alright?” Jisung asks, and his eyes take you in; tired, messy, but overall happy. 

“All good,” You smile. “I got it over here. Thanks for covering for me.”

“No problem,” He offers you a pat on the back and goes back inside. “Shout if you need anything.”

You just nod, already pouring a few regulars their orders. Cranberry vodka, Long Island Ice Tea, Tequila and lime. Whiskey. 

“I knew it was you.”

You look up, and to your surprise, it’s Doctor Ahn. His tie is a little loose and he looks drunk enough to make a dumb mistake. 

“Ms. Smart Mouth,” He laughs humorlessly. “Guess you’re not all that high and mighty now, are you?”

“How can I help you, Sir?” You smile, going over the basic script. 

“Oh, gonna pretend you don’t know me?” He snarls and leans forward, almost tipping his drink over. “Do you know how much trouble you got me in with Dr. Park Jinyoung?”

Dr. Park?, you think, but say nothing, maintaining your ground even if all of your body was screaming to run away. 

“He heard about our interaction,” Dr. Ahn grabs the front of your t-shirt and you sigh, knowing that Jisung would show up anytime now. “And threatened to take me to the board. On what ground? Huh? You tell me, since you’re so smart, Dr. Y/N, on what grounds that motherfucker can take me to the board of the hospital?”

“Disrespectful behavior, prejudice against the ill, and now, to top it all, harassment of a coworker.”

Jinyoung stood behind Dr. Ahn, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes shinning a weird glint– something like rage working inside him. 

“Let go of my resident, Hanseok,” Jinyoung mumbles, and the sheer power of his words are enough to make himself heard over the loud music. “Or I’ll make sure those hands can never operate again.”

You are free just in time to hold Jisung back, putting your arm in front of his chest. He looks at you and you just shake your head, asking him to leave it. 

“Doctors,” You call out, trained smile on your face and voice chirpy. “Why don’t we just all take a breather and have a drink? On the house.”

“Wha–“ Dr. Ahn starts to say something but Dr. Park passes by, hitting him with his shoulder, and sits on a stool. 

“Whiskey, please,” He says, and this is more like the man you’ve met. Voice calm and soft, even offering you a small smile. 

“Coming right up!” To say you’re relieved is an understatement. You weren’t looking for trouble, specially with your superiors. 

“Can you guess if I want ice or not?” Dr. Park chuckles and looks at you, and something changes. His eyes, the glint you saw before is gone, and there’s a new light in them, something more relaxed and oh so endearing. 

You offer him a smile. “That goes beyond my abilities, Dr. Pa–“

“Jinyoung,” He clarifies, blushing a little. “We’re outside of the hospital, so just call me Jinyoung, will you?”

“Sure thing, Jinyoung,” You giggle, continuing to clean the cups. “Anything you need, let me know. It’s on the house.”

“This is all wrong,” He says, looking bothered. “I should be the one buying you drinks.”

“W-why?” You stutter. 

“As your sunbae, I should be the one buying my residents drinks,” He smiles and there they are, the cheeks. You control the urge to pinch them and smile. 

“I’ll take you up on that some other time, sunbae,” You laugh, already moving to fill up someone else’s cup. “I have work to do.”

“What time does your shift end?”

“Late,” You sigh, tired just from thinking about it. “But don’t worry! I’ll be at the hospital on time and ready for work!”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” He says, downing his drink and gets up. “But that’s good to hear. Have a goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jinyoung.” 

                                                                     ————————

“Dr. Y/N,” Someone calls. “Patient on room two needs you!”

“Dr. Y/N, there are two emergency patients waiting!”

“Dr. Y/N, they are asking for your help in the Neuropsychology department!”

“Dr. Y/N–“

“Oh my god,” You groan, struggling to maintain your false composure; it’s now been two months since you first started at the hospital and you still wondered where were the other doctors. “Where are the other residents?”

“Dr. Yoon is having breakfast with a few fellows and Dr. Han is late,” Jimin giving you more folders. “You’re the only one here, at the moment.”

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t take care of a whole wing by myself, Jimin,” You breath out, suddenly having a hard time to concentrate. 

“Hey, breath, Y/N, just breath,” He instructs, patting your back. “I’ve already called Dr. Park, he’ll be here as soon as possible, but for now, you need to do this.”

You close your eyes, pulling your hair back and retying it in a high ponytail. Just the mention of his name gives you energy; you know you need to do good by him. 

“Okay, let’s go,” You put on your jacket and you start all over again, assigning nurses to each case as they demanded it. “Jimin, go to the Neuro department and see what they want, I’m sure Dr. Park’s opinion would be better than mine, so ask if they can wait until he’s here. Nurse Baek and Nurse Kyung, go to the emergency patients for an initial assessment and get back to me; I’m going to room 2.”

Y/N, those two patients you admitted, Jinyoung’s voice ring in your head. They are yours.

“Ms. Lee?” You smile, entering the room where the sweet old lady from before laid. “I’m your doctor, Dr. Y/N…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Y/N,” She laughs and you smile. She might not remember you, but the light in her eyes shine like no other. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Lee,” You shake her hand carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital?” She asks. “I don’t remember coming here…”

“Yes, ma’am,” You nod. “You were admitted yesterday… but you don’t have to worry, though; we’ll take really goo care of you.”

“Oh I’m sure of that,” Her hand holds yours. “Can you tell me why I’m here, though? I don’t remember…”

Taking a deep breath, you started to explain her condition, going over the medical details in the simplest terms you could, giving her time to process and ask questions. Ms. Lee had suffered from a brain injury that lead her to have long term memory loss, resetting her brain every few hours, which would lead to issues such as taking care of herself and others. Her daughter admitted her to the hospital in hopes that she could be properly taken care of, and that’s what you’d do. She cries a little bit, but is pretty understanding of her situation over all. 

“Will you come back later, Dr. Y/N?” She sniffles, and you chuckle. 

“Of course, Ms. Lee,” You wink. “I have to visit my favorite patient at least twice a day.”

“I hope I’ll remember you later,” She says and your heart clenches. “If I don’t, it’s been a pleasure, Doctor.”

You just smile, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. This was the hard part of the job; the feelings, the defeat, the acceptance. All doctors, surgeons or not, go through the same process of training, where you have to deliver bad news to the ones responsible for the patient… and that was the hardest part for you. Always’ been. 

“Dr. Y/N, good morning,” Jinyoung calls, jogging past you to his office. Surprised with his sudden appearance, you take him in, and his jeans and t-shirt make you smile. 

“Good morning, Doctor Park,” You mumble, even though you know he won’t hear you. 

This has been the routine so far; you get in for the early morning shifts, on the nights you don’t have to stay for the overnight shift and miss work, with barely four hours of sleep, and no one is there besides Jimin. You take care of emergency patients and the patients in the rooms assigned to you. Then, when the clock hits an acceptable hour, Dr. Park shows up, wishing you a ‘good morning’ and running to his office, where he will change and look like the professionally stern doctor she usually does. Once your shift is over, you go to work at the bar, where you will pour greasy men their drink until Jinyoung shows up, and you two will talk for the couple hours he usually stays, then he leaves and you have to get back to your real life. And then repeat. Every night, though, Jinyoung brings you coffee; lattes, fast whites, americanos– always something to make your night better. And that’s how it happened, you realize; the slow growth of your feelings for him, one coffee at a time.

Today however, once Dr. Park finally takes over the ward, and your shift is over, and you go to your job where Jisung is waiting for you with redbull and a sandwich, you feel yourself slipping. You move slower than usual and some clients even have to call you twice before you can actually process it.

“What’s going on with you?” Jisung asks as he decided to help you with the counter. 

“Nothing,” You shake your head, hoping it would wake you up. “I think I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?!” He laughs. “You’ve been overworked for years now. A little is underestimating it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say–“

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

You look to the group in front of you and now you feel like you could actually pass out.

“Dr. Kim,” You breath out, eyes wide in surprise. “W-what are you d-doing here?”

Not sure if Jisung heard you, your glance at him and he nods– he’s keeping an eye on you. 

“So this is what you’re doing now?” Dr. Kim lets out a humorless laugh. “As expected of someone like you.”

Stay calm, you think to yourself, taking a deep breath. Stay calm, Y/N, and do your job. 

“What can I help you with today?” And smile.

He laughs again and you don’t think you could ever forget this sound; it haunts you at night when you try to sleep and it follows you during the day, sneaking on your when you’re distracted. The only way to push it away is to focus on something else– like your patients. 

“Oh, so now you want to help me?” He murmurs and leans forward and you’re scared.

For the first time since you started this job, you are terrified. 

“Whiskey.” 

Your hand flies to the bottle instantly, your body reacting on its own and moving to the new man sitting next to Dr. Kim. You feel his eyes on you, heavy on your back as you serve the costumer, unable to look up from your feet. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” 

Jinyoung. 

“Ah,” Now you’re looking at him, begging him with your eyes to stop. “If it isn’t Kim Jungseok…”

“Park Jinyoung,” Dr. Kim smiles and you just want to sit down and cry; for two months, ever since you left your old hospital, all you’ve been wanting to do is cry. “How do you know my old resident?”

At this Jisung is right next to you, pushing you behind him. 

“Because she’s my new resident,” Jinyoung point at you and takes a sip form his cup. “Best one I’ve ever had, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N was the best at her job,” Dr. Kim looks at you and winks.

“Funny you say that,” Jinyoung chuckles and a weird sense of deja-vu hits you. You’ve seen that look in his face before, when he fired one of the fellows for inappropriate behavior towards a few of the nurses. From what you knew, he kept hitting on them and intimating them to go on dates. “Why’d you fire her?”

This is when you know you need to intervene.

“Dr. Park, I don’t–“

“She chose to leave,” Dr. Kim shrugs. “Can’t force her to stay, can I?”

Jinyoung laughs and finishes his drink. All the while, alarms are sounding in your head as your current boss turns to face your old boss. Everything in Park Jinyoung screamed powerful at that moment and you know that something big is about to happen.

“No, but apparently you can force her to do other things, right?”

Jisung is quick to pull you to the back as soon as the first punch is thrown. You scream Jinyoung’s name but he is too busy to look and the door closes, leaving just you, shaking and crying, and Jisung, who’s on the phone with the front door bouncers. As soon as they give you the okay, you are running to the front, looking for the man you see everyday, hoping to see him just one more time before tomorrow. 

“No,” You mumble through your tears, banging your fist on the counter. “No no no, fuck no!”

“That was your old boss,” Jisung breaths out, looking at you. “And what Jinyoung said–“

“I have no fucking clue how–“

“Your file,” Jinyoung says, coming out of the bathroom with a wet napkin to his mouth. “Did you really think I’d never find out?”

“I didn’t–“ You stop, trying to think back to what you wrote on your file. “I didn’t say anything about it on my file.”

“You wrote issues with the staff, the rest I assumed,” Jinyoung sighs, sitting back on the stools, flinching a bit. “Harassment is not something I take lightly, Y/N.”

“Assumed?!” You shriek. “How the fuck–“

“You forget that’s my job,” And he looks at you like no one did before– like you are there, shinning brighter than the lights; like you are speaking louder than the music, and presence bigger than the room. He looks at you as if you are the only one present and you feel your heart do a weird thing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?” You ask. “If people at the hospital knew, I’d be the talk of the department. I’d be labeled as either he girl that couldn’t just put up with it, or the girl that put up with it for too long… so I left before it got worse.”

“I didn’t say people,” He seethes, and you’ve never seen him look so devastated before. Not when Ms. Lee had one of her episodes, not when he was called in to evaluate the mental condition of an inmate, not when you were swarming with emergency patients. Never. “I said me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I don’t know…” You whisper, drying the few tears that still dared to fall and turning to the freezer to get a couple of drinks. “I just didn’t.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Jinyoung!” You chastise, turning to face him with now two beers. The bar had been closed a little early thanks to the fight and Jisung was nowhere to be seen. It was just the two of you now, and you sit next to him. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugs. “I’m the one responsible for you now,” He sighs, turning to you. “And how can I take care of you if you won’t let me?”

“I’m your employee,” You roll your eyes. “Not your girlfriend.”

“…yeah,” Jinyoung takes a sip. “Sure.”

Something shifts, as you sit there, alone with Jinyoung, drinking beer, after he had just been punched because of you. His words, slow and sad, hit you like a ton of bricks. His eyes, looking down at his hands, make their way to you. And now you know. Now you are sure. 

“Jinyoung,” You breath out, sounding as surprised as you are sure you look. “Do you like me?”

His head hangs low, and he chuckles. “Read my mind again, did you?”

“I–“

“Don’t,” He asks, eyes shinning with strength. “We’re old enough to not have to explain.”

“I work,” You blurt out, ignoring him completely. “Two jobs; the hospital and here. Not because I like, though… here, I mean. I don’t work here because I like it, but the tips are good and I need money.”

Jinyoung just nods. 

“I need to pay my school loans,” Words keep coming out of your mouth and you are not sure why. You’ve never felt the need to explain yourself before, but with Jinyoung everything is just different. “I need to pay them as soon as possible because I don’t want this huge debt interfering with my career. I’m sure I’ll be able to do it in a few years, if I manage to get my fellow in this hospital. All the time I don’t spent with you and Jimin, I’m here. I’m constantly tired, hungry, stressed, and overworked. I smile to men that are disgusting because I can’t tell them fuck themselves without losing my job and I don’t have anything to look forward to, anymore. I like you, too. You are caring, and kind, and an incredible doctor. But why do you like me? I’m not the best at what I do, but I’m not the worst. I’m not particularly skilled, or impressive, or–“

“Somedays,” Jinyoung interrupts your rambling, hand moving to cover yours, resting in the counter. “I have no faith left in humanity. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done… I’m not sure exactly why, but somedays I just don’t think there is anything good out there. And then I see you. In all my years of working in that hospital, I’ve never seen anyone like you. You work diligently, without skipping a day, although you’ve not slept for nights, and you do what your told, but you follow your gut. You know right and wrong and, better yet, you know people. You have this freaky ability to read body language and the patients love you, because they know you know what they need and what they want. That is what makes you an incredible doctor.”

You just look at him.

“You say you’re not particularly skilled,” He laugh. “That’s bullshit, Y/N. You are one of the best doctors I’ve seen. Hell, you are one of the best people I’ve met. I literally took a punch for you, because you are so worth it.”

“Jinyoung–“

“Don’t do that again,” He asks, stroking his thumb on the palm of your hand. “Tell me things. I want to know them, so I can help you. I know right now seems hard, but you will get through this. I know you will."

“How are you so sure?” You whisper, entranced by this man.

“Because I did,” He smiles. “Five years ago, I worked this same job, at this same place. And I did it; I payed all of my loans back, turned into a pretty good doctor, and dare I say, met you. Things seem pretty fine to me.”

“Oh my god, you are so cringey,” You groan, laughing with him. “Who knew? Intimidating Dr. Park is actually the softest boy.”

“Just for you,” He says and you laugh even harder. “Now why don’t I take you home? You can hopefully get a full eight-hour-sleep if we leave now.”

The ride to your house is silent and comfortable. But that’s all that is– a ride. Jinyoung drops you home, and, after declining your offer for coffee, drives away. 

You go to bed confused and lost. 

He did say he liked me, right?

                                                                     ————————

“And he left?!” Wheein shouts, banging her fists on the table. “Wah, that man really is heartless…”

“Yah,” You frown. “Don’t say that.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to offed your boyfriend,” Wheein laughs and you chuckle with her, eating your lunch in silence. 

Jimin looks at you with a little smile, but says nothing, so you nod at him. “You are awfully quiet today.”

“Ah, am I?” He chuckles. “Didn’t notice…”

Wheein elbows you and you look at her, suspicious of your friend. “Spill it, Park.”

“Spill what?” He makes an innocent face but he can’t fool you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You ask, resting your face on your hands.

“Like I’m kidding something,” He mumbles and looks to the side.

“Ah!” You shout, pointing at his eyes. “Why’d you look away? What are you hiding?”

“I really hate you and your mind reading abilities,” He groans and hides his face in his arms. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?” You whine, looking at Wheein as she laughs. “We have no secrets among us!”

“Yes we do,” Jimin scoffs. “And this one I really can’t tell.”

“Come on, Jimin-ah,” Wheein begs, curious as well. “Tells us.”

“Nope,” He says and gets up. “Gotta blast.”

“Does this has anything to do with Jinyoung?” You ask, and he flinches a little before running away.

“What was that?” Wheein asks pointing at your friend. “He’s the worst at keeping secrets!”

You shrug and go back to work, waving goodbye as she runs after Dr. Kim Yugyeom with some files that need his signature. Jimin is at his station but he refuses to talk to you, certainly afraid that he will spill the beans. The day goes by slowly like this, and right before you leave, you remember a few papers that need Dr. Park’s signature. 

“Jimin,” You call, running to the front desk. “Where is Dr. Park? I need his–“

“Not here,” He says quickly and leaves. “Goodbye, have a goodnight!”

“So fucking weird,” You mumble watching him speed walk to Ms. Lee’s room. 

You leave the papers in the front desk with a post-it note and decide to call it for the day, thankful that you are out on time and that you won’t be late for your shift at the bar. You are on the elevator when you pull your phone, ready to text Jisung but surprised to see that he texted you first.

I won’t be at work today. Just you ;)

You swear you almost have a heart attack. 

What the fuck do you mean it’s just me? Jisung, I can’t take care of the bar by myself!

We’re not opening tonight, chill. I just need you to check inventory and you’re done. 

Why can’t he do that? You sigh, knowing that you can get that done within the hour and then go home and rest. 

Okay.

You get to the bar already exhausted and you drop your bag in the door, taking a second to breath. You admit, you loved this place. The wooden tables and counter, the atmosphere, the freedom. You’ll miss it when it’s gone. You feel so natural in there, not having to hide anything from anyone. You feel comfortable, even though sometimes you have some trouble. 

Is this why Jinyoung comes here every night?, you wonder, walking to the counter to check the bottles. Is he looking for comfort, too?

You are halfway through inventory when you hear the chimes of the door. Knowing that Jisung was probably on the seventh heaven with his boyfriend right now, you make your way to the front, shouting as you walk.

“Sorry, we’re not open tonight!”

“Not even for me?” 

You look up to Jinyoung, not exactly surprised, but still impressed. He looked flawless, in jeans and a jumper. His hair, ruffled by the wind outside, covered his eyes a bit and you smile, thinking he looks adorable in his glasses. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, walking to him. “You weren’t at the hospital…”

“I had a consultation at the penitentiary,” He sighs, and his shoulders drop at the confession. You feel the stress coming out of him, and you grab his hand, hoping that maybe some human touch is exactly what he needs. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Hello, then,” You smile bright. “Want a drink?”

“Thought you were closed?” He teases, sitting on his usual stool nonetheless. You laugh and walk behind the counter, and everything feels oddly familiar. 

“I’ll make an exception for you, kind sir,” You joke. “You did help me even without knowing me…”

“Ah, I was wondering if you recognized me from that night,” He smiles and that is all you needed. “I hated seeing that man grabbing you like that, to be honest.”

“Why? Were you already so in love with me that you got– Hey, where are you going?!” You laugh as he rolls his eyes and pretends to leave the room. He comes back when you ask him to, grabbing his cup and your hand in the process. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah?” He asks shyly, blushing a bit as you lean over the counter, face really close to his. “Missed you, too…”

“Jinyoung,” You groan. “When will you kiss me?”

You think he chokes on his drink and once you reach over to tap him on his back, he pulls you by the wrist, covering your mouth with his. You can’t help but chuckle at this man; he always looks so demanding and stern in the hospital, but his kiss is nothing short of shy and gentle. He takes his time, and your neck even hurts a bit after he pulls away, but it’s oh so worth it. 

“There,” He ‘tsk’s’ and takes another sip. “Happy? I was planning something more romantic, but you are just too impatient.”

“Oh shut up,” You hit his arm lightly. “It was visible how much you wanted to kiss me.”

“Okay, this can’t do,” He gets up and goes behind the counter, caging you in between his arms. “Y/N, this won’t work like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“For this,” He motions in between you two. “To work, you need to stop reading me.”

At that, you laugh, throwing your head back and wheezing. “It’s not something I chose to do!”

“I want to surprise you at leas once!” He whines.

“Oh,” You gasp, looking at his pouting lips. “Is big bad doctor whining?”

“Stop teasing me!” He begs, hiding his face on your neck. “I’m not good with these things.”

“Oh, I think you’re great,” You say, kissing him once more. “The best, really.”

“I hate you,” He groans, lips finding yours again. 

Jinyoung pulls you closer, sitting you on top of the counter and finding a place in between your legs as he kisses you like there is no tomorrow. Now, he is much more firm then he was before, and you can’t hide your excitement, grabbing his neck and hair and pulling him closer. 

“We need to stop,” He murmurs on your lips. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if we keep going.”

“Behave yourself, we’re at my work place,” You laugh and, pecking his lips one last time, jump out of the counter. “I still have some stuff to do, but you can go home if you want.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “No way, I’m dropping you home after this. Jisung said he can’t come pick you up and I don’t like you walking home by yourself at night.”

“Jisung? Since when you guys talk?”

“Since I needed to find out when you’d get here,” Jinyoung smiles mischievously and he looks so young and carefree that you don’t dare to tease him, afraid that he’ll close himself off again. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did,” You smile. “Is that why Jimin was acting weird all day?”

“Ah, that boy can’t keep a secret for his life,” Jinyoung sighs. “Poor him, I bet you and Wheein interrogated him.”

“You bet we did, he was acting so weird!”

The banter occupies most of your time and soon enough you find yourself home, on your bed, with Jinyoung’s arms wrapped around you. The comfort is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you snuggle closer to him, happy at last.

As sleep caught up to you, you couldn’t help but think how excited you were for work tomorrow, when you’d finally have someone to pick you up, too. 

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

Hello lovelies! As promised, here is the update of the week! Jinyoung’s turn <3 This was so much fun to write, although I will admit, it’s been the hardest one so far. What do you think? Let me know in the comments :P Love you all and thank you for the constant support <3

[boogiewrites]

Peach and Poppy

Characters: Declan Harp x Scarlet Dixon (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp AU. Set in the 1970′s, Declan is a misbehaving psychiatric patient and Dr. Dixon or Dixie as he likes to call her, is a tenacious and underestimated new hospital director. Will this new job get the best of her delicate sensibilities like people are warning her? Will the charm of one of her patient’s awaken something in her she can’t come back from?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of manipulation, graphic language. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

1975 was an exciting year for psychiatry and it was shaping up to be one for Scarlett. She sat in the driver's seat, something she’d had to work so hard to accomplish. Her father had insisted with her new position of such importance it would look proper to be driven around again. But she’d only been living on her own for a few years now and she wasn’t ready to give up that freedom again.

She supposed he truly had a soft spot for her because he hadn't been entirely dismissive of this rebelliousness. But he always gave in to her in the end.

“Those feminists out there in… heathen California and such. Dixie darlin, I brought you up to be a respected little lady. You’re a dang doctor! Miss Georgia! You’re smart and gorgeous as the day is long honey, why would you wanna go and act ugly like that?”

This always came with the intimidating insinuation that it would sure be a shame if her actions were what lost him the next election.

With a wide-eyed, “It won’t be a problem, daddy.” He’d give her a hug and lift up her chin, tell her she looked like her mama and she’d be proud.

If he’d wanted a daughter to fall for that maybe he shouldn’t have let her become a psychiatrist.

But Scarlet or Dixie as those close to her called her, her daddy had been right about one thing, she was smart. She’d learned how to play the game in her favor long ago. In a public and pressured life like hers, looking how she did, she learned early what was expected of her and how men were going to treat her. She was allowed a bit of protection. Her father wasn’t just some kiss ass politician. He’d been known to make a few people disappear, and the whiff of a threat always around him, so his daughter would understandably come with some consequences. But now she’d become her own person, a doctor, and had a house and life of her own that she was still having fun exploring.

She was an accomplished psychiatrist. Engaged to one of her daddy’s lawyers and now the head chief of a psychiatric hospital. Which was where she was headed right now in the new car her daddy had bought her. A slick thing that made her feel confident and a bit bad if she were being honest. This is not a feeling she was accustomed to, and on this morning drive out of the city into rural Georgia for her first day on the job, she was feeling a lot of things she never had before.

It wasn’t a dream job by any stretch. This was going to be work. But with so many specialty fellowships, she felt like she had what it took to turn the place around.

When she pulled into the parking lot it was clear the job was bigger than anticipated. She stood outside her car with a bag stuffed full of files and looked up at the daunting hospital. It’d been around much longer than she had. Served as a sanitarium during the TB outbreaks, now showing its age and functions as Sunny Valley Psychiatric Hospital. Much preferred to the dated terminology of lunatic asylum it had formerly held. The old chief had been there for over 30 years. A lot had changed outside of Sunny Valley but the inside hadn't. She was going to have to gut and rebuild this place from the ground up, she thought as she took a deep breath and made her way in.

———-

The murmurs started long before she’d stepped foot into the hospital. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, it’d been a stressful time for everyone with a regime change, but the doctors, some older than her father, and all men weren’t going to be an easy sell on her as their new boss.

She understood from a statistical standpoint. She hadn’t been practicing for that many years. But in that time she had been published and was known for her unique approach to care. Her father had also donated a large sum of money to the state's Psychiatric Association. Which certainly didn’t hurt her chances. —————

So she came in with a positive, self-assured attitude. She had a game plan and now the hard work began. She meets with the doctors on staff with bold new orders. She would meet with each individual to go over the patient and their care plan. She would lay out new directives and goals, telling them she was bringing them into a new age of medicine where new research and medicine are all utilized with psychotherapy, medication, and the arts. It went over about as well as she expected. At least she was prepared for every rebuttal and excuse as she was an avid reader of medical journals. She’d infuriated a handful who resigned, but she preferred to bring in new life anyway.

She met with every employee, from groundskeepers and kitchen to housekeeping. She gave them her plans for updates and explained she was going to start looking for funding immediately and to expect changes and upgrades. Most of the staff liked her new hands-on approach, not the idea of more work but instead the idea of someone who would listen to them being in charge.

She spent days buried in files with arguments on treatment and headaches. The lingering stench of cigar smoke still hung in her office no matter how widely she opened the windows. She’d laid the base for her work, now it was time to move onto the most important part, the patients themselves.

————————-

It was Friday and the exhausting week was nowhere near finished. However, she thought she’d been able to check off a huge phase of her plan, a satisfying thick line through it on her goal list.

“There is actually one other patient that we uh… forgot.” A male nurse says as he hangs in her doorway.

“Forgot?” She says with the tone of a scolding mother. “How do you FORGET a patient?”

“He’s been in isolation and we don’t go down there much so the night crew didn’t tell us he was still down there.”

She wanted to bang her head into the desk. She thought she’d processed how poorly they were treating people but they kept on surprising her.

“This...this will not happen again. We don’t lose track of patients...of PEOPLE. We are not that sort of establishment now. I want a new record-keeping system for this sort of thing. Have it to me by the end of next week.”

“Yes ma’am." The frustrated younger man said.

“It’s Doctor Dixon. Now show me to him.” She shoos him out of the doorway.

Not even the golden hour light could salvage the depressing aesthetic of the hospital. Peeling paint and chipped tiles she had to skip over with her heels were everywhere she went. She pulled her white lab coat over her matching suit set as they made their way into an even more dreary sort of hallway. Some doors weren’t even on the hinges and inside were torn padded cells in a neglected wing of the building.

“I’d expect to find something like this in the old abandoned B building but not here. You still keep people in these things?” She says with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Just this one. And we don’t have to use it often. Well. Just for him.” She shrugs as he finds his key.

“Who is him?”

“Harp. He’s… difficult.”

“How so?”

“Prone to violent outbursts, sleeping with other patients… staff.”

Scarlet lets out a scoff. “And he should be forgotten in a dark tiny room for that?”

“Uhh.. it’s… where we put him when he won’t listen.”

“Just… open it? Okay. I’ll deal with you and this… horrid treatment plan you have allowed here later."

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone else to help, he mi-“

“Open the damn door.” She ordered more sternly, whatever it is I can handle it.” she insisted loudly and with a glare.

For a few heavy moments, nothing happens, just an open door into a very dark room that the light doesn’t reach. The white noise of the bodies inside the building beyond the wing’s heavy double doors was slight, just a steady beat of her pulse in her ears as her eyes tried to focus. The nurse stands in a defensive body position as Scarlet peers into the room taking tentative steps forward.

She waits and then hears movement. The aid moves into the room and she follows behind, seeing how this is going to go.

“C’mon Harp.” He grunts and uses his foot to roll the man onto his front.

“Did you just…” the face of the aid turns fast to a very angry face staring daggers into him. “...kick him?”

“No ma’am I was just rolling him so he could get up easier.”

She hears a muffled grunt from the man on the floor who’s slowly moving.

“Shut up.” The aid mutters down.

Dixie takes a deep breath to compose herself. “Go to your supervisor's office and wait for me.” She states coldly.

“Ma’am I-“

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore alright? Every time I’ve given you a chance you have only continuously failed so you’re fired. Go tell HR, and send one of the female nurses this way, please.”

She gets the death stare she’d seen a million times before when correcting and enacting her authority to a man. “Yes ma’am.” He grits through his teeth.

As she hears his footsteps down the hall she begins to kneel next to this unfortunate man. “I would like to apologize for this treatment, Mister Harp.”

She sees his face, a beard just started to fill out and as unkempt as his shirt and greasy hair. It laid in the way his sleeping had moved it, he had crusts on his face and his eyes were squeezed shut from the light. She helps him sit up, being gentle but having to exert to help the large man. She let his eyes adjust and when he finally opened them to look at her his face contorted into a very confused expression.

“I’m Doctor Dixon. The previous Chief passed away and I’m his replacement. I’ll be taking care of the hospital now. And I would like to personally apologize for the mistreatment you’ve been given here previously. This is archaic and holds no scientific grounds to help patients based on formal studies.”

He really only heard a few of her rushed words. She’d lost him towards the end there but whatever she said it had sounded nice. His ears worked better than his eyes at the moment and the almost husky, thick, and sweet feminine Georgia accent rolling out of her painted mouth like sweat dripping down a glass was making him melt too.

“So the old guy finally bit it?” He croaks out after clearing his throat.

“Yes. Heart attack they said.”

“Mmmph.” Was his emotionless reply. From how he’s been treated she didn’t blame him for not being upset. So far no one had really acted upset about the news. It was very telling.

“Who are you?” He focuses his eyes on her.

“Doctor Dixon. I’m here to replace the Chief that just died.”

“Ah.” He nods and then winces.

“Would you mind if we got you out of here and cleaned up? We could speak over a good meal, I'd love to hear what you have to say about the previous administration. I want to help.”

As another nurse swept in, a broad farmer's daughter, helped her loosen the jacket and get him to the washroom. “You want to… know what I think?” He lets out a hoarse chuckle.

“Of course. You’re a part of this hospital and if I’m running it I want to know everything. Good and the bad.”

He nods and focuses on using his legs, the journey to the bath hadn’t felt this long in a while. “You take your time, schedule him down for some Physical Therapy tomorrow please. I’ll go make sure your room is ready.” She says reassuringly. He sees her disappear into the fuzz of the distance, his injection still making him groggy. —————— He’d slicked back his wild and uneven hair with water and was currently hunched over his desk in his room being allowed to eat in peace. It was nice.

“Hello? Mr. Harp?” A slightly familiar voice from his doorway says. A little redhead with a daughter of a dentist smile and perfectly coiffed big hair came and sat in the seat next to his desk. “I managed to grab an extra pudding. You want it?” She sits it on his desk as she has a seat.

It’d been a while since he’d seen anyone new and she was bright and shiny and there was plenty to look at. He looks her over and then to the cup. “A bribe?”

“No. I thought for all the hell the former establishment put you through that at the moment an extra pudding cup is the least I could do.” She gives a real smile and a huff of a laugh. Been a long time since someone had interacted with him like he wasn’t in a psychiatric ward.

“Hmmph.” He grunts and accepts the offer.

“I did want to hear about your treatment here. As I said. I want this hospital to be a place where people can receive the help and support they need to achieve their goals. I’m not here to be a warden. I’m here to be a doctor. I took an oath to help others and I seem to be one of the few around that took that seriously.” She huffs.

“You don’t act like a doctor.”

“I’m a horse of a different color I presume.”

He nods in acknowledgment and continues eating.

“I wanted to know the good and bad of the hospital previously. Because I want to fix things. The men responsible for putting you in that cell have all been fired I'd like you to know.”

“Really...taking charge of the place aren’t ya?”

“I’m being met with much resistance.” She admits with a smile.

“Let me add to it then. I have conditions.”

“Conditions? What for?” She leaned closer and he could smell her perfume. It’d been a while since he’d been buried in the neck of a woman that smelled expensive like she did.

“For this information you want.”

“Oh. Well okay. What would you like Mr. Harp?”

“For starters call me Declan.” He waves his hand. “You’re gonna be my doctor right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So I’ll be having sessions with you now?”

“Correct.”

“We starting tomorrow?”

“If you wish.”

“I do. And I want you to have me something waiting in your office when I come in.”

“What would that be?”

“A cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger?” She laughs.

“The biggest you can find from the greasiest place you know of.”

She laughs and nods enthusiastically. “Consider it done.” She says happily.

“Really?”

“Why not?” she shrugs. “Perfectly reasonable request.”

He blinks in surprise at her but with dark narrowed eyes. “I’ll sing like a bird for you after I have that burger then.”

“Consider it a deal.” She holds out her hand to shake on it and the trust she was showing for him not to yank her down and have his way with her was astounding.

“Lookin forward to it, Doc…?” He shakes her hand.

“Dixon.” She adds with no annoyance for repeating it.

“Doctor Dixon. Alright. See you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” She repeats back playfully and he’s left with a visible confused expression on his face for the pleasant interaction he’d just had with someone in charge. He didn’t know if he was happy about or ashamed of himself. But she had certainly caught his interest.

——————————

“Hey, there jailbird.” says the woman in the worn chair. She was sitting incorrectly as always, this time with her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Hey, Alex.” He sighs to his only real friend in the hospital.

“Was this a new record?” She asks, turning her head from the old television in the activity room towards a tired and beaten up looking Declan.

“I don’t know. I was the one in the box I don’t know what day it is.”

“Thursday.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, you really pissed them off last time.” She laughs. “Can’t keep your charm to yourself can you?”

“No ma’am.” He wears a sly grin. “Speaking of have you seen that new doctor?”

“New doctor director.” She corrects with a point of a finger. “Yes, I have.”

“What do you think about her?”

“I like her.”

“Really? You like no one.” He questions her motives.

“I saw her today. She’s...different.”

“Yeah. Different. That’s what I thought.” He hums in thought.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made sweet sweet love to that little peachy assed firecracker.” Alex jokes.

“Oh, it’s been on mind ever since I came to and saw her walk out of my room in that tight little skirt.”

“She is...yeah.” Alex blushes slightly. “But she was actually nice to me. Was strange.”

“Yeah me too. It was...new.” He runs his arm and settles into his chair.

“She wrote down my complaints. Apparently, she has for everyone so far. She called down to the office and fired Jones because I told her what he did to me.”

“Yeah, she fired numb nuts that threw me in.”

“You should play nice with this one. She might be a good one.”

“I wouldn’t bruise that peach.”

“You’ll have to practice your lying. You’ve gotten rusty.” She grins.

“I don’t plan on it. If she comes through with my request I’m gonna tell her about all this bullshit.”

“She even mentioned… getting out.” She adds in a quieter more serious tone and Declan immediately notices and changes his focus.

“What’d she say?” He whispers with great interest.

“Apparently a few years back the...psychiatry people said homosexuality was no longer a mental illness. So she’s going to work to get that removed from my paperwork and we can work on the rest. It’ll “improve my chances of being released tremendously” Alex mocks the doctor's heavy southern drawl.

“Yeah she’s a little belle isn’t she?” He laughs.

“I mean her name is Scarlett for fucks sake. She is a debutante.”

“Well fuck me that’s a sexy name.”

“Don’t I know it. About creamed my cotton panties when she told me. Dr. Scarlett Dixon.” She mocks again.

“I’m gonna make her cream hers.” Declan promises with wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m sure you will stud. But play nice. She could be useful. Plus she has a fiancé. Didn’t you see that big rock on her hand?”

“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Never stopped me before.”

“Not much has.”

——————————-

Scarlet got home late, almost nodding off from overwork and the calming quiet of the drive. She yawns and wakes herself up before entering her house she shared with her fiancé currently.

“Hello, Phillip.” She sighs out, seeing him with his glasses on and hunched over his desk in his office by the front door. “Did Wilamena make dinner as I requested?”

“Yeah. It’s...in the fridge.” He doesn’t look up when responding.

“Do you have a minute? I had a big day today.” She says sheepishly.

He looks up and sighs. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you about my day is all. Big changes coming with this job.” She bounces on her feet excitedly.

“You’re working in a nuthouse Dixie how interesting can it be?”

“Very. Actually. And that’s a rather offensive term so please don’t refer to it in that way. Especially at the fundraiser coming up.”

“When was that again?”

“Tuesday.” She sighs. She’d told him so many times and it was so important to her.

“Mmm.” He answers.

“What does Hmm mean?” She asks with her irritation showing.

“I might have something that night.”

“Of course you do.” She mutters and rubs her temple.

“I’m a busy man.” He says lazily but defensively.

“Yeah. And I’m a busy woman and still manage to find time for everything.” She says quietly but sharply.

“Do you want the work I do for your father to suffer? Do you want me to mess up one of his legal proceedings and have him arrested? Because that’s what happens when I don’t work Dixie.”

With her jaw tight she huffs air out of her nose in frustration. “Of course I don’t.” She says bitterly. “I just wish you had time to be my fiancé and not just my father's lawyer. We don’t even… sleep together anymore. You realize it’s been months?”

“Has it?” He asks rhetorically with his eyes back to his desk.

“Yes. I had a good day and thought I could share my successes and you could validate my hard work and I could have some attention from you to celebrate things going well.”

“I need to know these things in advance. I can’t just up and be in a mood to give you attention. I’m-“

“A busy man. I know.” She sighs and lets her hands hit her hips. She went to bed frustrated and alone after eating cold leftovers while standing in her kitchen. Who was she to give people advice anyway? She certainly didn’t have her shit together.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s 

[summerspn]

Felicity

Tv series (1998-2002)

Spoilers...

I’ve gradually been watching Felicity for the past few months & have completed watching the series. I gotta say it’s charming & oddly addictive.

At the beginning of the series Felicity (Keri Russell) is an extremely shy & introverted character. She’s adorable. We see her proudly graduating high school but also feeling some trepidation about it. Naturally.

She sees her high school crush, Ben Covington, (Scott Speedman) at their high school graduation & decides to just go & talk to him. She regretted not getting to know him before. So she fixes that. Her yearbook had some sort of printing issue so they gave it to her on graduation day. So she asks Ben to sign her yearbook.

Surprisingly he sits down & writes a very thoughtful message to her. It’s sweet & inspiring. She decides to follow him to New York & she gets into NYU.

In tv land one can get into school in just a couple months - ya know completely ignoring the hundreds of people waitlisted lol That made me chuckle when watching. No big deal though.

Felicity gets to school & realizes Ben was just a nice guy & wasn’t in love with her of course. So she gets a bit of a reality check.

She makes a few friends & lives in the biggest dorm room on the history of planet Earth!

My room in my old dorm was ‘big’ and it had 3 feet of space between the beds...much bigger than my sister’s dorm lol

Felicity is likeable because she’s sweet, smart, shy & confused & just trying to figure her life out. All she knew is she didn’t want med school as her parents kept trying to shove it down her throat.

Ben is a nice guy who struggles with feeling stupid sometimes (though is actually really smart). He struggled with some of his classes & lacks a clear path for his major.

Occasionally Ben has these lines & that message in the yearbook which made me stop & go ‘you’re a writer’. I kept thinking he was going to become a writer...then in season four he decides to be a doctor. Okay...it was an alright decision & I like his academic plot lines in season 4 so no real complaints there.

We meet Noel Crane (Scott Foley)who is super dreamy. He’s smart, nice, outspoken but sensitive. A straight laced student & Resident Advisor (RA) who becomes Felicity’s friend & has a crush on her.

Throughout the series that’s the love triangle. It was interesting but there was far too much emphasis on it. Often it overshadowed the more interesting storylines on the show, IMO.

Noel pines for Felicity & loses sight of his life then soon graduates without a plan then later develops depression. I thought that was a great storyline. Noel’s family history of depression was compelling & how the character described it was very well done.

Back then tv shows didn’t talk about mental illness but this was handled delicately.

Noel gets help & gets better. He gets his life back on track, pursuing his dream of graphic design. There’s a line where he gets teased for liking computers...ya know as only ‘nerds’ like that stuff 😂

Felicity’s roommate Meghan Rotundi (Amanda Foreman) is a bit of a goth/Wicca practitioner. Every other character wear clothes I assume that are from The Gap so Meghan looks very different in her black mesh clothes & dark makeup. Nice contrast but I feel like Meghan’s development was overlooked for the most part of the series. She’s very blunt, unapologetic, sometimes mean...but she also cares for others even though she’ll deny it.

In her romantic life there’s growth but not academically. It’s only in the end of the last season does she realize she wants to pursue psychiatry. I think there were some missed opportunities there.

Though I will say I like that her uptight parents accept her for her quirks & clothing choices.

Sean Blumberg (Greg Grunberg) ...I have mixed feelings about his character. He’s an ambitious inventor & sort-of businessman. He owns a loft where Ben sublets /shares with him. Sean’s nice, caring & excitable. He’s also several years older. Around 5 or 6yrs difference I think.

His age difference was brought up several times, as if it were supposed to be important. In my last year of school I lived with a woman who was 15 years older than me. So what? Not a big deal. I’m not sure why the show kept pointing it out.

The only issue with his age is that at one point he’s 27 and STILL has no steady job. None! He’s all-in with his inventions that make no money & his family isn’t rich so how does that work now? He has a loft in New York with zero income? One episode talked of him owing money but come on, get rid of the loft, downsize then get a job, even if part time. *sigh*.

At the start of the series I liked Sean but then they turned him into a pathetic leech who gets mad & throws tantrums easily. He became incredibly annoying.

When I was near the end of the series I started to think that Sean would actually make a good salesman. Imagine him trying to sell cars, just the right amount of pushy. Though they put an episode in that made him look like a buffoon when making a sales pitch. So I feel like the writers were confused or trying to sabotage his character because he still ends up leeching off his buddy Noel & they end up business partners. 🤷‍♀️

Sean & Meghan date & eventually marry. I thought they were cute together at first but not as long term. I feel like Meghan would murder him due to being sick of his shit.

Elena Tyler (Tangi Miller) becomes a good friend to Felicity. All the ladies care for each other a great deal. Elena is very intelligent & a hard worker. She had a few romances & nearly got married. But I’ll be honest I found her boring. Not sure why. I think the most interesting part of her character was that she chose not to marry her fiancé Tracy. I thought it was a very smart move. And I found her background with her mom interesting but they didn’t do much with that.

Richard Coad starts out as an annoying member of the dorm. He & Noel become friends then later gets befriended by the group. Richard is a neurotic, blunt talking mess. He’s somehow still kinda adorable though does have some rough spots. I really liked him up through season 3. Season 4 he was in much less and then the writers turned him into a racist moron. Even if he had those thoughts I feel like his character would be more subtle & not as rude due to his overly developed sense of self preservation. Plus he’s not stupid, just blunt & a bit disconnected.

He did apologize but still it felt just so...wrong. Out of character even.

In any case I think the writers should have made him a little more like Rob Benedict, the actor who played him. Rob’s loveable.

Javier Quintata (Ian Gomez) is the owner at the coffee shop Dean & Deluca. He’s the boss but becomes very close with everyone, especially Felicity. I really liked him at first. Eventually his personal favours become outlandish & his stories started to make my eyes roll.

He & his devoted husband break up over non-issues. Why? It added nothing to the plot. Javier also wants to pursue acting at NYU. He’s really not good so it came off as a dumb idea & all scenes in acting class become annoying. I feel like the writers didn’t know what to do with him. I’d have preferred if he pursued a different dream- one that made sense. Like maybe all the years working with coffee & pastries inspires him to want to be a chef? 🤷‍♀️

Felicity. Throughout the series she’s shy, gradually getting more of a backbone. She admits to loving art & wants to pursue it. Her parents constantly pull her down , try to talk her out if it, even bully & manipulate her. She is for the most part uncompromising. I loved that! She held her ground & from a person like her, who always kept the peace at the expense of her own happiness, that’s amazing.

We see her grow though she spends far too much time angst-ing over Ben & Noel. Often she seems tortured with very few moments of being free & having fun.

I loved how in season 4 she befriends fellow artist Owen. I feel like that was huge. I loved how they went to galleries together & talked about their art & life. It was refreshing. I love that Felicity’s honours art class was so important to her & everything around that plot.

I hated however, how she always put others first.

So...I have to mention Felicity’s haircut from Season 2. I didn’t find it that bad...but apparently Keri Russell got death threats from it. Complete insanity!

Though I do think as it was 1999 back then, people were more uptight with personal style. If she had dyed her hair pink instead people would have flipped out too.

I do think there were better hair styles to choose from though. I think if she had a cut her hair to chin length & straightened it it could look pretty & still have a big impact. Something like that.

But honestly it’s just hair. I had a horrible haircut one year in university but it grew out on a few months & was fine. No big deal....but I wasn’t on tv so no one cared I guess 🤷‍♀️

In the ‘series finale’ , Felicity abruptly chooses medicine. Why??? That uncompromising love for painting just gone....And back to medicine? I wanted her to be an artist!

Every artist has a day job to support them. Felicity was acting like she was going to starve because she couldn’t sell her paintings.

I wish they found her a day job she really liked to support herself. I wanted her to be all-in.

Or they could find her a middle ground. That internship at the architectural firm, she could have realized she wanted to be an architect or something. Something other than medicine.

I really like though that she chose herself finally. Then Ben follows her to school. That was perfect. I just wished she didn’t want to be a doctor. I feel like that goes against everything she wanted.

Overall a great series. I love how they approach mental health - Felicity’s too. She was getting therapy regularly. It was nice to see. Very healthy.

I like JJ Abrams’ work but I (like everyone else) question the last several episodes. Nonsensical & out of place.

Personally I think the show should have put less emphasis on the romantic relationships & drama & more on self discovery by all characters. That’s more interesting...then sprinkle in a few moments here and there. A few episodes on love etc each season. We didn’t need the constant longing looks & drama of Will they won’t they.

I know I’m in a minority when it comes to such things but I feel the media - tv & movies especially focus WAY too much on the romance.

Then of course people like me who are borderline Asexual (except when it comes to fictional characters lol), I find it exhausting to always be bombarded with romance from all angles. However, if Felicity (and other shows) just used it occasionally & not every single episode I wouldn’t mind.

It’s just hard to care about a show if it just feels like it’s only about relationships and not much about life. But that’s just me.

The storylines that had me intensely interested in this show were:

- Ben’s relationship with his dad

- Ben gaining self confidence & realizing he’s actually smart

- Noel’s graphic designs & career

- Noel’s mental health

- Meghan’s rebellious nature & wanting to see what happens when she gets over the need to rebel (though we didn’t see much of it).

- Felicity’s parents’ attitude - I wanted them to see that they were wrong & admit it to her (though they don’t) 😞

- Wanting to see Richard find something he was really interested in & good at (which never happened)

- Wanting Felicity to have fun! Random silliness or parties...they rarely partied or did weird outings to things like paintball or bowling. College is for doing a million things. I wish tv land would do more if this

- Wanting Felicity to stop making decisions because of her love interests

- Wanting Felicity to go on a summer trip or internship to Europe on her own (never happened)

- Wanting Felicity to choose art (also didn’t happen) & support herself with either a job she simply likes (dog waking, tutoring, retail etc) or something in the art field (art therapy, illustrator etc)

To me these should have been the priorities & add romance occasionally...

But overall the series was good. The acting was really good from everyone. Even minor characters had pretty good actors. So well done!

The actors are great in other projects too. Keri Russell was in The Americans, even the Rise of Skywalker. Never saw them but I heard great things. Personally I really liked her in Austenland, August Rush, Mission Impossible 3 (small but great role), and I LOVED her in the movie Waitress.

Definitely give the actors a watch in other projects, even if you have mixed feelings about them in Felicity. They’re all good.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

The Fallen, 14/17

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 14/17.

Pairings: Nine x Rose.

A/N: Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“We've all fallen, but at the same time we're not broken. There is the hint that we are going to get up again.” - Amy Lee.

CHAPTER 14:

It was a neighbour from the building next to his who saw him stumbling to the bus stop with a bloody towel around his arm who came to help when he collapsed on the bench. The bus wasn’t about to come so deep in the night, and he wasn’t in a good shape enough to wait until the first one came around. He was lucky that she had needed the loo at that exact moment. She wasn’t long to pull clothes on and to rush to his side. He was slouched on the bench, his back against the bus shelter, his face paler than usual in the crude street lightning, his hair and shirt damp with sweat, his towel soaked with blood. He was trembling and burning hot when she touched his cheek with the back of her fingers. He opened his eyes, which seemed to request a high effort to his weakened self. The loss of blood was too important. A vein must have been hit. “Maxence? Do you hear me?” He blinked to focus on the face beside him. He wasn’t sure if she was real or if it was a hallucination. Ginger hair, hazel blue eyes, accent from Chiswick. He knew her. He had met her already. Once or twice. Or more. Maybe he was just imagining her. He turned his head toward the road. A small blonde was standing there. This woman definitely was a hallucination. She smiled at him, waved at him. Then, a car passed through her and she was gone. “Hold on, ‘kay? I’m taking you to the hospital.” She lifted him up to his feet, wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and dragged him to her car. She dropped him on the passenger seat, buckled him up before quickly moving to the driver side. She had to be quick. He was in a rough condition.

x

“How did it happen?” Maxence blinked, forced himself to take his eyes off the nurse’s hands that were bandaging his arm. It wasn’t serious. The cuts weren’t too deep. No stitches had been needed. The nurse had cleaned all the blood, examined the wounds and disinfect it all. They were bleeding still but the flow had drastically lessened. It would stain the bandage rather quickly and he would have to change it often. Good thing he was living with a doctor. “No idea. I woke up and it was there.” “Any sleep issues? Sleep walking for instance?” “Insomnia is all. I’m a former drug addict and alcoholic. Six months sober to this day.” “Congrats. Have you self-harmed before?” “Never.” “Do you feel particularly anxious? Or sad?” “My brother is a GP. He was called in the night. That’s the first time I was left alone since my last journey in rehab.” To him, there was no reason to keep it all a secret. Yet, the nurse’s facial expression and the fact she was writing a lot on his patient’s record were worrying to him. It was a bad sign. She was gonna send him to the loony bin and he hadn’t even told her that the words had carved themselves on his skin. That was the detail he couldn’t say out loud. It would be the detail that would give him a free ticket for a room in the psychiatric ward. “You think I’ve done that to myself?” he reproached her. “I didn’t. I woke up and it was there. Period.” He was gonna stay there with someone who didn’t believe him. She tried to stop him rom gathering his stuff and leaving but he was stubborn and wouldn’t listen. It was Joanne who intervened. The neighbour had managed to reach her while Maxence was taken care of. She happened to be one of her colleagues who Joanne had taught everything to in her early days. “Joanne Spitz,” she introduced herself. “I’m his mother. Miss Noble called me to let me know.” Inside Maxence, a wave of panic washed over his heart, hitched the breath in his throat, had his hands gripping the sheet he was sat on. Another part of him was relieved to hear her voice, to see her standing there between him and the nurse to be sure he wouldn’t be taken away to a ward he didn’t want to go to. She was protecting him, for now. Soon, she would be angry with him. Angry for something he hadn’t done. Joanne won the silent staring fight and the nurse moved away, muttering that she had something to do and would be back in a few minutes. Joanne grabbed her son’s shoulders, examined him quickly and wrapped him in one of the tightest hugs she had ever given him. She had been scared to wake up to his missed calls, terrified to hear Donna tell her that she had taken him to the hospital and he was there, pale, arm bandaged and willing to go back to bed. He was okay. Alive. She hadn’t lost him again. There was the clearing of a throat and Maxence’s face went from a panicked relief to anger again. The nurse was back and she wasn’t alone. She had brought someone else. Certainly someone from the psychiatric ward despite his refusal to see someone. “If that’s not for the discharge papers, you can go to another patient because my son won’t go anywhere else but home with me.” “Mr Spitz, Nancy called me to help your son. She was worried about him, and his mental health. It’s just for a check-up. Nothing more.” The voice of this new specialist was familiar to Maxence. He already had heard this before. It was not so long ago, yet it felt like it was an eternity. He glanced up, looked above his mother’s shoulder and his eyes grew wide when he saw the small blonde with dark brown roots. She had changed, no doubt on that. She looked cleaner, healthier, happier almost. She had cut her hair in a lovely bob; her cheeks weren’t hollow anymore. She was wearing a white coat on a trouser-suit… and battered brown boots. She was a cutie, and looked much younger than him though she was only one year younger than him. “Amy?” She didn’t look surprised that he was recognising her. Obviously, she had been off the drugs she was using when they first met. She had long recovered from the shit she was slowly killing herself with, when he was just beginning on this path. She could be of a great help as an abstinence patron. If only her name badge didn’t indicate that she was working in psychiatry. “My actual name is Anna. Dr Anna Lewis. I left Amy and her setbacks behind me a while ago.” “Do you know each other?” asked Joanne. The nurse was gone. She had taken advantage of Maxence talking to her colleague to silently move away before the Spitz could remember that she was there. The next step in Maxence Spitz’s recovery was all up to Anna Lewis. She was the one who would decide if he could be discharged. No one else. “We’ve met when I was high.” Maxence was half-lying there. It was true that Anna and him had met each other during his time as an alcoholic junky, but she was the one who offered him drugs the first time. He had fallen into the vicious circle because she pushed him into it. He had the choice, and he had made the wrong, influenced by her lie about it taking the pain away. “I’ve left all of this behind me. I’ve worked hard on myself, and went back to my job. Dr Anna Lewis, psychiatrist, that’s me.” She tapped on her name tag with a yellow painted nail and a bright smile before inviting them to follow her to an empty examination room where she talked with Maxence for a while before Joanne was allowed in. There was no anger on his face. Instead, he seemed pretty serene. Maybe had she been wrong to deny him the access to someone he could talk to. But there were so many things Maxence had told her that couldn’t be told to someone else. “Mrs Spitz, I have to reassure you immediately: your son is no danger for himself or for others. He’s not suicidal, he doesn’t self-harm. There’s a strong hint of anxiety and depression though, and if it’s not taken in charge, it could get worse and lead to the previous behaviours we named before.” Joanne looked between the Dr Lewis and Maxence who was cuddling his painful arm against his chest. There was blood on the white strips of cloth. Cuts on his arm. Self-harming. Psychiatry. She hadn’t been told why Maxence was here in the first place and was deducing it all from the clues she had before her eyes. “What do you recommend?” “I can be his therapist. I think the fact he knows me already is helpful to him. He wouldn’t open up with a colleague of mine. A session per week for now, more if needed. No need for a close surveillance, like I said, he’s not a danger to himself or others.” She pulled a small tablet out of her pocket, checked something on it. “We can schedule a first appointment this week. What about Wednesday, 11am?” “Fine by me,” said Maxence. If it was fine by him, then Joanne couldn’t force him to not see a specialist who would help him, even if he had met this specialist before when he was in deep troubles and she hadn’t done anything to help him. She gave her approval. She would come with him for the first sessions. Just to be sure it really was what he needed, to be sure it was helping him and not putting more pressure on his shoulders because of the things he couldn’t tell his therapist…

To be continued...

The Fallen © | 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

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[godsofmonster]

how to stop being an obsessive/toxic fan

Disclaimer: This post is not meant to hurt or attack any individual or any individual fandom. Every fandom has its extremists. Every person is different and this will not apply to everyone so take what resonates with you. I am by no means a professional in psychology or psychiatry. This is based on my personal observations and experiences after many years in different fandoms. I believe that instead of bullying problematic fans, maybe the solution is to offer some kind of help. This post is meant to enlighten and empower. If you can’t be mature, just don’t read.

1. Ask yourselves what it is that you admire about them...

I believe it is natural and even healthy to have celebrity/idol crushes. Most of the time, it’s not a crush but an inspiration for yourself. Especially at a young age, there tends to be something that an idol/celebrity has that we want to obtain or embodied ourselves. It even allows us to embrace their personalities as our possibilities- whether that is their success, confidence, or courage. However, this should merely work as guidance for the kind of person we want to be.

2. Deal with whatever you don’t want to deal with...

The intensity of idolizing a celebrity is something that usually decreases as you get older. The reason for this is because portions of your identity begin to become more clear and there is less need for outside direction. However, this is not always the case, sometimes what began as guidance has become an emotional escape. What are you not emotionally dealing with? Depression? Anxiety? Low-self esteem? Maybe all of the above. Using idols/celebrities as a distraction from your real-life problems isn’t something that goes away on its own- like a drug addict, it only gets worse.

3. Reduce the time you spent online...

I understand that mental health isn’t something that can be easily dealt with but it is also important to understand that you can’t fix what you refuse to acknowledge. If this is resonating with you, separating yourself from your escape is the best way to face your problem. Stop spending so much time online trying to find out what is going on in the fandom. I’m not saying leave it all behind, I’m sure that some of you have created bonds with people in the fandom who support you. But if you both are using this world as an escape, it is only going to be that much harder to let it go, keep that in mind. 

Fan wars are such an issue that I need to touch on it. There is nothing more mindboggling to me than seeing two fandoms come for each other. You are all literally on the same boat. If you would put as much effort in yourselves instead of ‘defending’ your idol- you would all be the badest bitches ever! The reason that you might not is going back to mental health, your self-esteem, do you think you aren’t worth the effort? Well, you are. Believe me! You’re idols don’t need you to defend them! My advice is- if they don’t care then, you shouldn’t’ care too. If they do care, I promise you that they have friends, family, lawyers, record labels to protect them. (This obviously doesn’t apply to all issues) Your job as a fan is to support not defend. Your idols don’t want you/shouldn’t want you to defend them. We all have real difficulties in our life, fandoms are supposed to be a safe place, not more problems.

4. Find an entirely separate interest...

Again, separate yourself from your escape so that you can deal with whatever it is you aren’t dealing with. Finding another interest or activity can do a lot for you. Things like art and music are also great ways to disciple yourself and push yourself. It creates a sense of accomplishment and therefore a sense of self-worth. It is a really good way to start building or simply increasing your self-esteem. The right kind of self-esteem, the one that comes from within and not from the approval of others. Work on yourself. And again, this doesn’t mean give up on your role in the fandom, it’s about the distance to give yourself space to grow as an individual. 

5. Make changes and set goals...

Over time and a lot of work, you will become aware of the changes that you need to make in your life. Whether that is moving away or changing your lifestyle, setting goals is going to keep you on the path that you want. The guidance and direction you need will mostly be coming from yourself. You can still support and admire things about your idol but the real difference is going to be how you perceive them. It is no longer seeing them as this perfect, untouchable being. The relationship and connection is understanding that you are equals and have the same potential. That is what will make you admire them and appreciate them in a more meaningful way. 

If you have anything to add or have your own opinion on to help create a more positive relationship for all fandoms, feel free to reply. I hope this will not only help ‘problematic’ fans but also remind other fans that there is always something deeper going on behind someone’s behavior. Love yourself. Be nice.

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Weeks 4 + 5

Overall Plot

Heavy in terms of the background stories for Sid and Ishani and their deeply ingrained emotional issues. Their relationship though, phew; such highs and lows, that I'm almost dizzy with how quickly they fight and make up. Though the Juhi/Shashank/Anjali/Vardhan track remains good to watch on the basis of performance, not much progress on that front plot-wise, other than Shashank unwillingly approving the luxury ward and the fallout from that.

The Medical Stuff

Still boring for a medical procedural junkie like me; it seems like they just flip through a medical textbook and pick some two, three randomass illnesses, but then barely go into depth about it. It’s like they pick these things just for the novelty of the name and nothing else.

The Acting

Needless to say, the seniors reliably turn in the best performances. Namit continues to get better, fewer missteps each week than the last. Also nicely compelling in some scenes where he emotes quietly with his face. Surbhi on the other hand seems to be a see-saw; it's just bewildering for me to watch her all over the place like this, after seeing her be nicely measured in the first 1.5 years of IB. IDK if it's the character or the direction or what, but she seems so messily uncontrolled in this role compared to what I've seen of her as Haya/Anika. The supporting cast - Rashmi, Jason, Robin, Kunal, Rahul - got marginally more to do these weeks than previously, and they were pretty good; especially Rashmi who got some nice scenes to do.

The Characters

Sid: Still the character I'm most invested in. He has major existential angst about possibly being naajaayaz and not knowing who his father is. They also brought back Fuckboy Sid; well not really, but his "past" catches up with him when 3 girls he was seeing at the same time show up together to beat him up. He's definitely a charmer alright, seeing how he gets out of sticky situations like these. As a doctor, I truly like watching him in his element; he’s smart and focused and has wonderful bedside manner; gentle and compassionate, knows how to get patients to open up to him, and how to comfort them in turn. He's the best at his job among the residents, and we can see why Shashank likes him so much. Also, like Shashank he’s a good mentor, the way he guides his juniors not only in matters of medical stuff, but also in interpersonal stuff like self-esteem, and things like basic human empathy, that’s oft-forgotten in high-pressure situations. WRT the romance, I find how besotted/concerned he is for Ishani pretty adorable. Like it's an appropriate amount (for the time they’ve known each other) and comes from genuinely liking her as a person, even with all her quirks and unlikable traits. And thankfully there’s zero creepy slo-mo staring or having intrusive romantic thoughts while working or anything like that (side-eye at Armaan/Riddhima.) Like, he's in tune with her emotionally, despite all their innumerable differences and genuinely cares for her in a selfless manner, even with the constant ups and downs in their dynamic.

Ishani: Continues to be diagnostic genius but in the dumbest fucking way. A ex fling of Sid’s making a threatening gun gesture with her hand at him led Ishani to deduce that the kid had swallowed bullets and thus had lead poisoning???? She diagnosed a patient that NINE SPECIALISTS couldn't diagnose?!?!?!? (Like, either she's the best diagnostician in the goddamn world, or Rishabh was lying and/or Sanjivani's specialists are hella bad at their jobs.) Her diagnoses kinda come outta fucking nowhere; till date, only the Refsum Disease one seemed legit, coz she actually looked into a patient's chart AND ran multiple conclusive tests for it; nahi toh random tukkebaazi se hi chal rahi hai iski career. Also, I sympathise with her on the subject of her parents, but after a point, her reactions are so damn extra. Like, I’m not a fan of the fuckery that is organizational hierarchy, but she’s just TOO FUCKING MUCH, from slapping Sid, to getting some senior doctor suspended for sleeping on the job, to undermining senior specialists in front of their patients. Like god sis, you've barely been here for 2 weeks or so. Would it kill you to simmer down and lay low for a bit? You’re a first year resident for fuck’s sake; save this nonsense for at least the third year. Idk how or why anyone puts up with her, honestly.

Asha & Aman: Still genial, still best in small to medium amounts. Aman is kinda hilariously self-centered but pretty dumb (I have serious doubts as to how he got into med school/Sanjivani. He's rich, so maybe influence?) Asha is better knowledge-wise, but super competitive and always wanting to be on every single case, which gets annoying; but they gave her a good reason for being that way, which Rashmi performed quite compellingly. What I love most about Asha is that she doesn't carry her momentary irritations with Ishani into their overall relationship. That's work stuff and outside of it, she's very affectionate and fond of Ishani, even fiercely protective and supportive of her when the latter is rendered weak by the poster drama. Good. I'm here for tight friendships between girls. Aman's a pretty good friend too; misguided in his attempts coz of his dumb self-centeredness, but he's intrinsically a good dude whose heart's in the right place and tries his best to comfort his friends when they’re disturbed.

Dialogue of the Week:

Asha [re: Ishani/Sid]: Arre in dono ka jab dekho marad-lugaai jaisa jhagda hi chalta rehta hai; yeh ghar-grihasti waale jhagde baad mein na kar sakte?

Rishabh: Continues to be The Fucking Worst. Chalo, Ishani ke baare mein Vadhan fed him the gossip, but how the fuck does he know so much about Sid's personal life????? I'd forgive his fuckery if he was at least a good doctor, but he's not; he's just an annoying character with zero redeeming qualities whatsoever. I honestly wait for his biweekly roughing up by Sid, coz by god, bada mazzaa aata hai jab is kameene ke saath pitaai hoti hai.

Neil: Ok so it turns out he's a doctor who's just really really squeamish when it comes to blood. My question is, then why is he in an area that involves an abundance of it in the first place? There's plenty of specializations in medicine that don't involve seeing blood/other gross stuff (psychiatry, neurology, physiotherapy/physical rehab, radiology, nutrition, nuclear medicine......) Why not go for one of those? Like, the end of MBBS/internship should have been long enough to figure out this issue with blood and pick an appropriate specialization no? Is he a surgical resident too, like the others? In that case, it’s just truly bizarre how/why he chose this field. Other than that minor issue, I love him, he is softest and purest boy. Give him a dancing scene every few weeks, coz I wanna watch Jason groove!

Rahil: The most likable person on this show. WHY THE FUCK WON'T YOU GIVE US MORE OF HIM, HUH????? He's so sweet and genuine and soft (to the degree of stupidity - he took time off and became an ambulance driver to help Sid sort out his issues with Ishani???? Lol boo, I get he’s your best friend/boss, but yeh thoda too much ho gaya.) Hopefully he’ll be proving Rishabh is behind all the posters next week, and thus we all win - Sid coz his name is cleared, Ishani coz she’ll get the name of her culprit/learn to trust that she’s got friends who have her back here, and me coz I’ll get more smartypants cutiepie Rahil!!!!

Shashank: They're not really giving me any meaty Shashank/Anjali stuff (other than what they’ve already shown us in the last few weeks) so thank god they're giving me the next best thing: Shashank being an excellent “dadTor” (dad + mentor) to Juhi, Sid, and Ishani. Esp. with Sid & Ishani, I genuinely love how he minces no words and is always forthright with them, but never ever in an unkind way. He's always gentle and soft and puts it in a way that guides them to introspect and be better. That's what good parenting/teaching is; not solving the problems FOR your kids, but enabling them to come up with the solutions on their own, thus making a lasting impression/change in their psyche. 

Juhi: They've kept her all tied up in admin stuff than medical, and I'm kinda ehhhhhh about that, but it's always a balm to my heart when she appears with her gentle smile and calming demeanor. I genuinely feel so bad for her that she’s stuck in between Shashank and Anjali, and feels responsible for fixing their relationship, even though it doesn’t really have anything to do with her. Also lol, the best scene in this fortnight was her ‘BITCH WTF????’  face when Vardhan was getting handsy with Anjali in front of her. BUT ALSO TELL US WHAT THE ISSUE WITH RAHUL IS ALREADY?!?!?!?!!!!

Anjali: I don't like this show's up/down writing of Anjali. On one hand they have her being compassionate towards that patient's husband who slapped her, but then she goes and makes multiple hurtful comments to Ishani? Surely she, of all people, whose biggest issue in life is being unable to break out from under the shadow of parents in the same profession, would understand and empathize with Ishani? Also, it’s clear that Ishani has a family connection with the Guptas and has been visiting them since she was a child, so why does Anjali have zero familiarity with her? Like, you’d have some kinda fondness for a kid you’ve known for 15-20 odd years no? I really don’t like the way they’re portraying her as a person who’s got no real human feelings for anyone or anything beyond her job/dad’s approval. #JUSTICE4ANJALI

Vardhan: Ugh, like Rishabh, continues to be a gross slimeball. Like honestly, doesn't a CFO of a major hospital have more to do than pettily making two residents keep fighting amongst themselves? Get a life, dude. Go visit that son of yours whom you're always talking to on the phone, or something. And for the love of god, please stop hitting on Anjali in this gross manner. (Guessing he’s divorced, and the wife has the kid, and thus these shenanigans.) Also another totally petty gripe, I really hate how the hair at the nape of his neck is always sticking out weird. Can someone put some gel on that shit for him????

Overall Rating: 3.5/5

[phaedrecameron]

The Accused, James Fraser, Chapter 10 - Sandbag

“Are you sure this is a good idea…he’s the prosecutor!?” Phaedre whisper screamed in Claire’s ear as they entered the Boston criminal courts building.

“We’ve got to find Jamie. His defense lawyer won’t risk us screwing up the case,” Claire replied, directing them to first floor café. “Grey released Jamie without prior authorization. I’m sure of it. I’ve been around long enough to know that protocol wasn’t followed. He’s hoping Jamie will lead him to accomplices. He’ll have people watching him.”

Phaedre nodded in acquiescence. She’d just have to trust this Beauchamp woman. Claire was taking a hell of a risk helping Jamie and she seemed to care for him a great deal.

Once Phaedre had explained her connection to Jamie, Claire had offered her a place to stay, which happened to be Geillis’ home. Geillis had an entire shelf on her guest room bookcase dedicated to Jamaican and Haitian voodoo. Phaedre would definitely need to ask her about that later.

Phaedre looked at Claire as they sat in the café. She was definitely pretty, but in a sort of untamed, ethereal way. No wonder her best friend was a witch. But she couldn’t say whether Claire was Jamie’s type. Phaedre had been around Jamie often enough to know he attracted the eye of many women. He was always polite, but he was looking for something or someone else. And there was the issue of Beauchamp being married to Frank Randall. Ugh, thinking of that man was like smelling rotten milk. Yet, Jamie must feel something for Claire. While Phaedre had been unpacking her things at Geillis’, Claire shyly entered the room.

“So..do you speak any Gaelic…I mean for your research?” Claire had asked.

“Speak, no. But I’ve gotten to understand a few things.”

“I see.” Claire had tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Well, Geillis doesn’t know any Gaelic and google translate is useless because of the phonetics of that bloody language.”

“What is it you want to know?” Phaedre had been tired and the way Beauchamp had been hemming and hawing was akin to waiting for water to boil.

“Well… do you know what ‘mo cree’ or ‘mo rye’ means?”

“Mo chridhe. Mo ghraidh. My heart. My love.”

“Oh.” Whatever Beauchamp had been expecting it wasn’t that. She’d started to glow and the stupidest smile had formed on her face. She’d left the room as though Phaedre had given her the Holy Grail.

Clearly, Jamie had spoken those words to her, not something he would have done lightly.

Yes, Phaedre would follow Claire’s lead.

****************************** “What the fuck were you thinking! Releasing Fraser from custody!?” Harry Quarry screamed at Grey.

“I didn’t release him, he posted bail,” Grey replied.

Harry was red faced, with a vein protruding from his forehead. John worried his boss would have a coronary right on the spot. Harry walked around his desk to glower over Grey.

“Don’t! You know damn well capital defendants can’t get bail. You dismissed the death penalty allegation!”

“Harry, this is the best way to catch..”

“We have the killer! You know Grey, I stood up for you when everybody thought you were a spoiled blue blood who bought his way through life. I recommended you for homicide when everyone thought you needed more experience. It’s nice that you can blow up your career, go yachting for six months and get another job, but this job is my life’s work and my family needs my pension!” Harry sat back behind his desk, turning his attention to a stack a files. “I’ve already spoken to Brown. You’ll stay on the Fraser case. The optics of removing you now would make the office look even worse, but once this case is over you’ll be lucky to even prosecute a speeding ticket. Leave.” Harry didn’t look up.

Grey went to the downstairs café, wishing he had some MacKenzie Whisky to add to his coffee. If he was wrong about Fraser, he’d hunt the man down and flip the switch himself.

“Hullo.” Suddenly Dr. Claire Beauchamp was sitting across from him. She looked more poised than the last time he saw her, but she was clearly up to something. “I need the location of James Fraser…for the eval.”

Grey sipped his coffee. She would make a terrible spy, no finesse.

Claire continued, “I need a follow up exam. I don’t want to miss the court deadline.” She smiled pleasantly. “I’m sure he provided an address as a condition of pre trial release…maybe even agreed to an electronic gps device?”

“Yes, and he surrendered his passport, but surely you know how…irregular it would be to release the defendant’s address to the court appointed psychiatrist. Contact Ned. He can arrange a meeting or my office can coordinate the interview at police headquarters.”

“I understand it’s unusual, but there are extenuating circumstances,” Claire pressed.

“Which would be……?”

Beauchamp looked as though she intended to grab his coffee and throw it in his face. Grey moved his coffee out of her reach. He was more than willing to wait her out.

“The circumstance of his innocence,” Claire hissed.

“If you had any such evidence, you’d have told Ned or the police. This is clearly personal for you.”

“And if you thought he were guilty, he wouldn’t be out on bail.”

Touché

“Do you know that woman?” Grey pointed his chin at a woman a few tables over. She was eavesdropping while pretending to read a kindle.

Claire groaned and waived the woman over. “This is Dr. Phaedre Cameron, Jamie’s cousin. She’s…helping me.”

Grey ignored her use of a nickname for Fraser and watched as this woman joined their table. “Hello, pleased to meet you,” Phaedre extended her hand. Grey shook it as he looked from Beauchamp back to this Dr. Cameron.

The woman was clearly an American and not from Boston.

Sensing Grey’s confusion, Phaedre explained, “distant cousin, on his paternal side. We have an 18th century ancestor in common, Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, The Old Fox.”

Grey blinked. He definitely needed something stronger than coffee.

“Lovat was executed by the English,” Phaedre added triumphant. “Did you know Scottish people came en mass to colonial America; some were indentured servants and some were involved in the trans Atlantic slave trade and….”

Claire lightly put her hand on Phaedre’s arm. She knew all to well the signs of a historian about go on a very long and very convoluted explanation of historical events.

“Oh, sorry,” Phaedre looked sheepish.

Grey cleared his throat, “Well it’s good Fraser has…. maintained contact with his American relations…..are you a doctor of psychiatry also?”

“Goodness, no. History. I’m a professor at UNC, Chapel Hill.

Grey sat forward. “North Carolina! That’s what Fraser was doing down there. Visiting you.”

Cameron’s face went blank. She had a far better poker face than Beauchamp. She looked to Beauchamp, “this will help Jamie, yes?”

Claire looked to Grey, “I don’t know. Can we trust you? To help find the true killer?” Her face was earnest and open.

Grey looked at the two women. Both highly educated, both convinced of Fraser’s innocence and willing to help him at great cost. Grey, himself was in a similar situation. He’d be ruined if releasing Fraser turned up nothing. Grey sighed. What was it about damned James Fraser.

“Yes, yes, you can trust me, but I want to know everything! What was Fraser doing in North Carolina and how do you really know him?”

Beauchamp nodded to Cameron. Cameron began, “what I said was true; Jamie and I are distantly related. My historical focus is the culture of enslaved Africans living in islands along the southern Atlantic seaboard in Colonial to antebellum America. These people developed a distinct culture and language; a language that is dying. I knew of programs to revive and protect languages— like with the Maori language in New Zealand and Gaelic in Scotland. I discovered MacKenzie Whisky was a huge sponsor of the program in Scotland. I reached out a few years back and Jamie responded. We became friends. He educated me on Scottish history and it was really interesting. I found great overlap and contact between Scots and putative African Americans. I researched some of my own history and found the common ancestor.”

I see, so he came for a visit?” Grey asked.

“He called me about two months before the murder. He wanted to know if I could put him contact with experts who could keep quiet.”

“Experts?”

“Historical experts; archeologists, anthropologists, antiquities specialists, renaissance art dealers, indigenous peoples researchers. I didn’t think much of it.” Phaedre shrugged. “I figured it was for his Foundation. “Said he would fly to North Carolina to discuss it.”

Phaedre stopped abruptly and looked at Claire, “He really is special, tries to help those he can.” Claire’s blush was not unnoticed.

“Anyway,” Phaedre continued, “he brought this.” She handed Grey a stack of photos of artifacts and copies of documents. “Those are historical items of note; spanning centuries, across multiple cultures and all stolen. Jamie asked me to authenticate some pertaining to Colonial America and get the right experts for the rest.”

“Jesus,” Grey flipped through the pages. There was also references to purchases of conflict diamonds from Africa, emeralds from Colombia, rhino horns, items looted from the unrest in the Middle East.

“These items are all in possession of Mackenzie Whisky. Amassed over the last two years, and easily traceable to Janet Murray & William Fraser, Jamie’s siblings,” Claire added.

John sat back in his chair. “A set up.”

Both women nodded. Grey knew if this information got out Fraser’s siblings would be jailed and the company would be ruined. This was a PR disaster in every market where Mackenzie Whisky was sold. This is what Minnie would call a scorched Earth attack.

“Jamie said he knew the liaison who was procuring the items on behalf of the company. He was flying to Boston to meet her. It must have been Laoghaire.” Phaedre stated.

“Once he was arrested, I didn’t know what to do.” She looked between Claire and John, “He wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t want to go to the police or his lawyer for fear of everything going pubic….I thought maybe with doctor – client privilege…I… I…” Claire grabbed Phaedre’s hand.

“We’ll fix it, we’ll find him and figure it out,” Claire continued to squeeze Phaedre’s hand and looked at Grey.

Grey, while sympathetic, was extremely skeptical of Beauchamp being able to help Fraser.

“He’ll already have a plan,” Phaedre stated, wiping at the corner of her eyes. “We’ve just got to convince him we can help. He’s got a reason to live now.” She smiled at Claire. ***************

Claire fiddled with her hair and wiped her hands on her jeans for the third time as she rode the elevator to the 7th floor of the luxury apartment building where Jamie was staying. What if he refuses to see her? What if he sent her away? Before she could lose her nerve, Claire exited the elevator, walked to his door and knocked.

Nothing.

She knocked again.

When she thought she could no longer bear it, she heard Jamie’s voice through the door, “Ach, took ye long enough! Where’d ye go, Memphis?!”

The door swung open and she instinctively stepped back. Her mouth fell open. Jamie stood before her. He was wet and naked, save a gps ankle monitor and an entirely too small hand towel he was grasping around his waist.

He stared, but said nothing.

Claire moved forward.

“Sorry, it’s me, Claire.”

[soulandunconscious]

"I'm here for you." / "Have you always been this beautiful?" for Trindel, of course!!

i had a heart attack when i saw @short--insomniacs (the lesbian, the liv, the legend) request something, so i tried very hard to get this done as well and fast as possible

please excuse my lack of talent and enjoy!!!

~~~

“I’m here for you.”

Mendel’s job sucks whale dick.

Skunk junk. Psychiatry penis.

He forgets why he’s still a psychiatrist sometimes. Scratch that, he forgets why he’s still a psychiatrist all the time.

He’s exhausted all the time, and the fact that makes him less able to give Trina the affection she deserves adds on the horrible state he’s in nowadays.

One day, his day is especially bad, and he comes home completely wrecked. He couldn’t help any patient he had that day, and all of them loved making that painfully clear.

Nothing hurts Mendel more than knowing he’s bad at the job he hates anyways. Because if he’s so bad at it, then what’s the point? Why does he even try?

It’s a spiral, which he recognizes, but can’t even help himself out of. And that makes it even worse.

He opens the door quietly and enters the kitchen, where he finds Trina making dinner and singing quietly to herself. Stay Beautiful? Thank god he recognizes that. Anything to distract him from how awful he feels.

Mendel rests his chin on Trina’s shoulder, and she jumps, turning around and laughing.

“God, darling, you startled me.” He plasters on a fake smile and laughs a little in reply.

“Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay!” Trina turns back to the stove, and Mendel stares in front of him to keep himself from crying.

Five seconds later, she hears a sniffle, and she looks back at him, who bursts into tears the moment she turns back. She frowns, turning off the stove.

“Oh, darling..” Trina hugs him tight, rubbing his back as he sobs into her shoulder.

“What happened to you?”

“It’s just work— I’m sorry—”

“Shh, no.. I get it, love. It’s okay. You’re gonna be alright. I’m here for you, you know?” Trina kisses the top of his head, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

Mendel sniffles again, pulling away and looking up at her with red, tired eyes.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Trina leads him to the sofa and she just holds him, until he finally stops crying and falls asleep.

She watches over him all night. In her eyes, it’s the least she can do. If she could, she’d make all his troubles go away.

But since she can’t, she just holds him and hopes that’s enough.

~~~

“Have you always been this beautiful?”

It’s Sunday morning, half past nine. Trina and Mendel get to sleep in. Mendel turns to his wife, who has her arms wrapped around him and is still half asleep. The morning sun shines on her face, and she moves in closer and buries her face in his pajamas. Mendel falls in love with her all over again.

He shifts and cups her face, looking at her with starry eyes and smoothing back the loose strands of hair that had fallen in her face.

“Have you always been this beautiful?” he asks quietly. This makes Trina laugh.

“Please. I’m a mess, love.” Mendel just shakes his head in reply.

“You’re stunning. Come downstairs?”

And so, a little later, Mendel sits on the counter, watching as Trina makes pancakes and hums to herself.

“Have you always been this beautiful?” he asks again, a dazed look in his eyes. Trina laughs again.

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that in the span of ten minutes.”

“And you still haven’t answered.”

They go to see some sappy rom-com that no one wants to see that day, and neither of them really care about it. They sit in the back and make out like they’re teenagers happy to be away from their parents for an afternoon. Except they’re the parents. Both Mendel and Trina like to forget about that sometimes.

Mendel pulls back during a quiet moment in the movie, which elicits a whine in protest from Trina. “Have you always been this beautiful?” he repeats. Trina shushes him in response.

“Shut up, babe, we’re in a movie theater.”

“There’s no one here!”

“It’s still rude. Shut up.” Mendel sighs, laughing and leaning back in to kiss her.

They drive to Marvin and Whizzer’s house in the evening, and Mendel notices how Trina tenses up more every minute.

It’s still hard for her, the whole Marvin thing, especially with the bar mitzvah coming up. It stresses her out majorly, and he just wishes he could do more for her.

“Have you always been this beautiful?” he asks again, putting his and on her thigh.

“Fuck, Mendel, do you want me to crash this car?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Trina doesn’t talk much when they go get Jason, and she doesn’t say a word about the bar mitzvah. She’s just too tired, it seems. They go to bed early that night, and Mendel tries one more time.

“Have you always been this beautiful?” he asks, the last time that day. Trina shifts and swats at him with her pillow.

“I was about to fall asleep, jackass. I have work tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna keep asking until you answer.”

“Shh, I’m trying to slee-heep. My head kinda hurts.” Mendel pulls her in closer.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.” Trina and Mendel fall asleep pressed against each other, warm and happy.

And Mendel knows he’ll ask again tomorrow.

~~~

thank you so much for reading, and of course thank you SOOOOO much for the request i swear i died. i hope this was good enough!

[shizen-hime]

Okay, another chart reading request!

First of all, having a Sag AC and being a Leo with your Jupiter and Venus near your Sun at the 9th house I’ll say you have to look a super nice, charming person. I think you are very sweet (though maybe your Mercury in Scorpio might act a bit harsh sometimes and your Moon in Capri AND that Saturn at Cancer can be a bit uuhh but let’s talk about this later).  This aspects tell me you’re someone who is probably always trying to be better and better every day, explore new things, new ways of thinking. Maybe you can be someone who travels a lot during your life (to physical places or imaginary!). I think this aspects are really nice and will make you expand yourself a lot. Also Leos are so amazing, very charming and super honest and loyal.  Having these energies on a opposition to Neptune can make you look a bit confusing sometimes (like maybe people don’t really know your “thing”, like they think you are a way and you are not) but it can also bring you a lot of imagination and be very deep when necessary.

But a natal chart is most of the times very contradictory. You have a Moon in Capri at your first house. This is what people see in you, and you can seem a bit cold or hard to open up to others. Having Chiron there too (you have it like me) can make you feel... sad about your life sometimes. Sometimes this Chiron can make you say “why was I even born” or “why am I like this”, but once you learn about Chiron (I recommend you take a look at it) you can help a lot of people feeling better about themselves. Going back to the Moon, it’s a hard aspect. Maybe you have a fear to tell people how you really feel or you prefer putting on a mask. Nothing you can’t work on, obviously! This Moon reminds me of that Saturn at Cancer at 7 that is basically the same kind of energy (plus they’re opposed so the energies kinda merge). You might feel you have a fear to go out or dating people. I think you can be a bit rigid and nervous of sharing your feelings. I believe in that saying Christian people say that God will not put you a job in life that you can’t overcome! This Moon and Saturn are the total opposites of your Sun, Jupiter and Venus. So there’s this equilibrium you have to find. Plus, your Mars is helping that Saturn, so you kind of feel confident when you look and understand at yourself and then maybe you can make the first step.

Let’s talk about Mars and Mercury then! Your Mars at Pisces isn’t it’s best position (same as mine) but if you work about it you can use it to help people a lot Okay so I think you can be a bit harsh with that Mercury we talked about before, and opposed to that Mars can make you be confusing with your words if you are in a rush but I also think that when you see something “unfair” or someone is hurting other people you jump out of nowhere and say things clear, defending others. This Mercury is actually very strong and I think it makes you a really intelligent person, though you barely don’t have any air signs. Actually, I think you are the type of person who loves to analyze others. And having that in your 10th house is like something you really wanna work at. I think you’d be a great psychiatrist. I actually believe you should study some kind of psychiatry because using this and that Chiron we talked about you’d help a lot of people. That Mars in Pisces is telling you to help people!! But first you will expand yourself and learn a lot about the world. I also think you kind of are very good at talking in public?

To end with, your North Node is at your 5th house, the house of your creations and your sons and daughters. I don’t really know what to say here, but maybe what you’ve come to do here in your life is something material, like make something tangible and real. Maybe it’s even just have children! As we said, you barely have air so maybe you can find a hard time at socializing. Just be confident you have such a good Sun, Jupiter and Venus at Leo and that badass Mercury. I think you think too much (TOO MUCH) about what others think of you, though you act like you don’t care. I believe you are a very good hearted person that sometimes is misunderstood. Don’t think too much on what others think! 

Hope I didn’t mess a lot up and I hope you liked my reading! If you have any feedback I’ll be happy to hear! I can extend the reading if you specify about stuff too!

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Ask Naboo

Author: Nonexistantpup

Year: 2010

Rating: PG

Characters/Pairings: Naboo, Bollo, Spider Dijon, Rudi Van DiSarzio, The Braincell, Howince, Moss/Roy

Bollo slid his glasses up to his forehead and rubbed his hairy temples with two fingers. “It no good,” he said with a frown. Naboo looked up, annoyed. He was busy relaxing and smoking and hated to be interrupted. “What’s no good?” “Books no add up,” Bollo said. He sigh. “Bollo warn Naboo that monkeys not make good book keeper.” “What are you saying?” asked Naboo, with an impending feeling of doom. He’d have said he had a bad feeling, but didn’t want to steal Bollo's favourite phrase. “Need money,” Bollo explained. “Stop paying the losers workin’ downstairs then,” said Naboo. “Done that. Sold beach house too. No more money. What else can Naboo spare?” Naboo frowned. There was his submarine, but he never felt comfortable without one of them in the house. His Rudi & Spider memorabilia couldn't go either, of course, and his rug collection was pretty vital. “We better fix this,” he said unhelpfully. “Otherwise I’ll have to sell you, Bollo.” Bollo paled. Or - well, he didn't really pale. His fur remained the same colour. He seemed unnerved, however. “But - Naboo need familiar!” “I know,” said Naboo. He tapped his chin. “We need make money.” Naboo clicked his tongue and took another drag from his hookah. “I suppose I can go back into pop psychiatry,” he said thoughtfully. “I do sort of miss it. Hearing about peoples’ problems. Imparting wisdom. The regular income...” “What about Bollo?” asked Bollo. Naboo shrugged. “You could be my editor.” Bollo seemed appeased by this idea, and put his glasses back down onto the table. “Now,” said Naboo, “Call up the newspapers and tell them I'm willing to reinstate my relationships column." Dear Naboo, I can’t fulfill my partner’s sexual needs anymore; I'm exhausted! If it was just a good, hard romp four or five times a day, it would be no problem, but he’s practically insatiable! He has eight cocks, you see, which means every time we make love, we do it eight times in a row, each time lasting at least a month and a half. Now, I'm not great at mathematics, but I contacted a local mathematician, who informs me that 4 x 8 x 1.5 equals 48. Which means that every day, I have sex for over forty-eight months - in other words, more than four years! I'm exhausted! What should I do? - A Worn-Out Woman ‘Worn-Out Woman’, As I see it, your options are threefold. 1. Dump the freak and get some sleep. 2. Let me tell you the story of the broken flute. Once upon a time, there was a flute. One day, he tripped over one of his shoelaces and fell onto the footpath, breaking to pieces instantly. All the little shards of flute were scattered all over the place, causing passing bare-footed pedestrians to cut their feet. One of these pedestrians happened to be a passing eccentric billionare, who limped home, not realising the shard was still in his foot. The shard of flute had never been in a mansion before, and hopped off gleefully to look around, and liked the place so much that, that night, it cut the millionaire's throat while he slept and inherited his entire fortune. See what I'm sayin’? 3. Get over it. Sure, it may be hard to deal with at times. I get that. But think about it, yeah? You’ve got a man who alters the very laws of physics, the axioms of reality, just in order to have enough time to spend in the sack with you every day. There’s not many men who would do that. Love, Naboo

= =   

To Naboo, How can I make my boyfriend take our relationship more seriously? I mean, we have so much fun together and I know he cares about me, and yet whenever people ask him about me, he lies as if he’s ashamed, saying he is merely changing one of my strings. I love him, but if this doesn’t change, I don’t think I can go on seeing him. Please save our relationship? - Irritated Instrument Irritated Instrument, I had a similar conundrum in the forties, as it happens, when my girlfriend at the time wouldn't admit to being deeply in love with our cutlery drawer. They got together eventually, and are still together today, I believe, and expecting their second child. There are two options I can reccommend: 1. Don’t give up! If he cares for you, he will come through. Speak to him openly and honestly and tell him how you feel. 2. Give up! He’s a loser who seems to enjoy getting off with inanimate objects anyway. Find somebody more your type - a cello or perhaps a ukulele if you’re strung that way. Love, Naboo = = Deer Naboo, It’s got to the point where I just don’t no what to do anymore. I am married with children, yet I can’t seem to think of anything except the other people I’d like to shag and how much the drudgery of an unhappy marriage is marring my carefully pampered image. It would be alright, you know, but the person I’d really ideally like to fool around with just sees me as her boss. I’ve tried everything! I invited her to work late, and she worked late. I told her she was cute and she said ‘thank you’. I even custom-designed a sparkly soot, just to get her attention, but she still doesn't notice me. I'm starting to doubt my dead sexiness and although I know I have quite an important job, my work ethic is crumbling like a fresh piece of shortbread. What can I do?! - Suffering Cell Suffering Cell, I have some words of wisdom for you, although I can’t be sure they will be anything new. You have not been specific about many of your problems, but my crystal ball has kindly filled in most of the blanks. What you must consider very seriously is this tale - the tale of the ant and the grasshopper. Once upon a time, there was an ant and a grasshopper. They were experiencing a fruitful summer. For the whole season, the ant worked hard, storing up food for the winter while the grasshopper just hung around smoking joints and watching the telly, not collecting any food except for what he wanted to eat that day. The ant warned him that laziness came with consequences, but the grasshopper didn't care. When winter came, the ant had a huge stockpile of food - enough to keep it and its family nourished all the way through until spring, while the grasshopper was left outside, cold and hungry. He had run out of weed and the electric company disconnected his telly. Desperate, he knocked on the ant’s front door to beg for food, but frustrated with the grasshopper’s lack of responsibility, the ant said he would only share his family’s food if the grasshopper sold his body, prostituting himself off to the ant in exchange for food. The grasshopper, who wasn’t into that kind of thing (in fact, he was a bit of a prude) turned away in disgust, and the very next day he hopped aboard a plane, smuggling himself in the luggage of a slightly inebriated badger. He found himself on the other side of the world, where it was summer and food was plentiful, paid his way out of debt quickly and hired a lawyer so he could sue the ant for sexual harassment. I hope this has cleared some things up for you. Love, Naboo.

= = Alright, Naboo? Probably are. You seem to be pretty on top of things, being a shaman and that. Anyway, I live with a friend of mine who drives me nuts. He has no taste in clothes or music (ie. wears tweed and listens to jazz), is finicky (ie. Control Freak!) and I just fancy the pants off him. Well - not literally. Do you think it would be possible for me to actually do that though? But that’s not my question. See, he's taken to walking around the place wearing nothing. Well, nothing except this monocle of his - something to do with ‘going au naturale with class’. Whatever the reason behind it, it’s making me mental. I can’t even fancy the pants off him from afar, because a whole lot of the time he ain’t wearing them to begin with! So, what do you reckon? - A Very Randy Socialite Very Randy Socialite, You batty crease. Can't you tell? He's trying to seduce you. Just don't do anything unless you're sure there’s nobody else in the house, yeah? Love, Naboo P.S. I mean it. If I hear you two humping away in the next room, I'm throwing you out on your naked arses. I don't need that shit.

= =

Dear Naboo, I'm having the most awful trouble getting girls. See, I'm not bad to look at and I'm a clever, sensitive man, but none of them will look past my career. I am a homocidal maniac (hoping to climb the ladder and become an official genocidal maniac). I can't give that up! How can I get girls to accept me? - Bloody Lonely Bloody Lonely, I had a friend with the same problem. He worked in Dickson’s and girls could never come to terms with it, judging him and all that. Here's some wisdom that helped him and will hopefully do the same for you. This is the story of the green crow. Once upon a time, there was a crow. He was a normal crow, except for the fact that he was green and looked like a big, feathered, mouldy potato. In fact, one day Marilyn Manson saw him and was so disgusted that he kicked the poor crow into the recycling bin at a local primary school. The green crow was very upset, especially since he was such a huge Marilyn Manson fan he had a milky lens in one eye and hadn't drunk any water since 1997. Depressed, he sat in the recycling bin for days, ‘caw’ing miserably. On the fourth day, however, a whole lot of colourful craft paper cuttings rained down on him. The green crow was newly inspired. He found some old chewing gum and made himself a turban and cloak out of the colourful paper. From that day on, everybody treated him with respect because they thought he was a mouldy, green, feathered shaman and Marilyn Manson issued a public apology. That should clear up your problems. Love, Naboo.

= =

To Sir/Madam (I'm sorry, your name is quite androgynous), I must admit I am quite distressed. My best friend and I are always doing things together. We should be seeing girls but instead we’re always in each other’s company like an old married couple. I'm at the end of my tether. Thank you in advance, - In A Flippin’ Rut In A Flippin’ Rut, The answer to your problem is so simple, I'm frankly staggered that you’ve even found the need to ask my advice. Obviously, you and your best friend are meant to be together. The real problem is just that you have all the elements of a successful marriage except for a healthy sex life. So, you know. Get it on. Duh! Love, Naboo P.S. I do have more specific advice regarding what you should do, but it is inappropriate material to have published here. Send me a private email and I shall tell you the story of the phallus-shaped coral.

= =

Dear Naboo, Just what kind of an advice columnist are you? My friend wrote to you, complaining that we can't meet anyone because we're "like an old married couple" and you send him some story about coral willies and tell him to seduce me in the most disgusting way imaginable. You are obviously a pervert and shouldn't be allowed to give advice to anyone. -Thoroughly Repulsed P.S. Just to clear things up, we are NOT like a married couple in any way. 

= =

Thoroughly Repulsed, That’s gratitude for you. From your indignation, it’s pretty clear to me that the seduction worked. If you wanted it to happen in another way - one that perhaps didn't involve an aquarium, smelling salts or three feet of chicken wire - you should have stepped up and made the first move on your ‘friend’ long ago. What are you, some kind of selfish, absent-minded, narcissistic slacker? You pompous bloody wanker. Love, Naboo P.S. Whatever. P.P.S. Bite me. P.P.P.S. Prick. P.P.P.P.S. Watch your step, yeah? Or I will turn my back on you.

= =

Naboo, I'll have you know that the seduction did NOT work. What I saw when I got into work this morning made me want to vomit. It's pretty clear to me that you're a wanker with nothing better to do than corrupt perfectly nice people with your kinky fantasies. My friend and I haven't spoken to each other all day and it's been very awkward for the both of us. I hope you're happy. -Repulsed P.S. You're the prick. And how dare you call me narcissistic. 

[dracolucius-abraxusmalfoy]

Rules: Answer these 21 questions, then tag 21 people you’d like to get to know better.

Tagged by @tovlia wow! Thanks so much 😍 I love answering questions, I feel so honoured ❤️

Nickname: Cas.

Height: It says 168cm on my ID, so we’ll go with that. (5″6?)

Last Movie I Saw: Oh god ahh... The last movie I remember watching is Mr Glass, but that was three weeks ago and I’m positive I’ve since watched more. 

Last thing I googled: What’s the best wet cat food? (I ran out of dry and I couldn’t get to the store where they sell the kind my baby eats.)

Favourite Musician(s): That is the hardest question ever to answer. I like Bon Iver and City and Color I guess, atm I’m super into leikeli47. Mostly though I like songs rather than artists. 

Song stuck in my head: I don’t really have one stuck in my head rn, I often get Cherry Wine by Hozier stuck in my head though, and earlier I had Tic Boom by Leikeli47. 

Other blogs: I have my main obviously, and a private one I share with my cousin @carmillized that’s basically the blog of a character in a novel we’re (trying to) writing. It’s a lot of black and gay aesthetics, as well as lots of art history, some writing stuff and just generally pretty pictures. It was supposed to help us develop her character, it’s kind of become its own thing though...

Do I get asks? I get a few, yes. I’d love to have more though, honestly makes my day whenever you guys send me asks. 

Following: Too many, dear lord. Sometimes I go in and clear out blogs that are inactive, but for the most part, I only unfollow blogs if I repeatedly see content on my dash that I’m actually opposed to seeing. Like even if someone changes their interests and they no longer align with mine I’m unlikely to unfollow them. 713 if you want the exact number. (it was down from 670 to 550 this spring, and now we’re back up again, YEET)

Amount of sleep: Not enough. Or too much. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the recommended 8 hours, it’s usually 3-5 or 9-12. 

Lucky number: 3! My birthday is 03/03/1999. 

What I’m wearing: lulu lemon on the fly pant (I had a gift card and they’re super comfy???) and an off white mock neck jumper (I basically live in turtlenecks, even during the summer.)

Dream job: I have no idea. I’m probably going into education, I’d like to work with high school kids, but I also considered psychiatry (again, with kids and teens). Being a novelist would be dope af too I guess, but I probably wouldn’t feel fulfilled if I only did that. (I’m literally in Fine Art but it has almost nothing to do with my future plans?

Dream trip: I’d love to travel to Irland and Scotland, but not like, the big cities, I want to see the small towns and learn about local culture and traditions from locals. I’d also love to visit Trinidad and Tobago and some of the other islands. 

Favourite food: Curry probably, maybe roti, but in the end, it amounts to the same thing doesn’t it?

Play an instrument? I did a couple of guitar lessons, and I’d love to finish learning, maybe piano too, but no, sadly, I just admire music from afar. 

Languages: English and French (although, I don’t think I’ve held a full conversation in French in two years so like... that’s iffy.)

Favourite songs: That’s an even harder question. Cherry Wine by Hozier?  Darkness and light by John Legend, Comptine d’un autre ete; l’apres midi by Yann Tiersen, My Lady's House by Iron and Wine, Brown Sugar by D’ Angelo, Ain’t Misbelivin’ by Fats Walter. 

Random Fact: I have Hyper Mobility Syndrome. Basically, I’m really fucking flexible and none of my ligaments do what they’re supposed to. Shoulders? Dislocate, then pop right back in with no warning. I can hold my hands and rotate my arms from front to back. I can touch my head to my ass, I get a head rush now, but it doesn't hurt per se. Splits are childs play. My whole body hurts all the time, though that might be the 10+ years of gymnastics. I’ll probably have arthritis but the time I’m 35. 

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: New Books, the smell of chai tea, soft sweaters, cool socks. Jean jackets and overalls and turtlenecks. Am I a Lesbian or Art Student? Paint stained hands and oil paint smell. Colour coded notes. cool Autumn afternoons, but warm summer nights. Spicy and Sweet. 

Honestly, just an enigma of a person. 

I don’t know if I have 21 people but let’s see... 

@dmxlfoypotter @pukingpastilles @slytherthicc @hufflepuffs-deserve-love-too

@goldentruth813 @mothermalfoy @drarry-imagines There’s more but I can’t remember their urls. 

[beaopalmoon]

reposted from pillowfort

coming to accept myself as trans masculine

Massively grateful to my job and the folks that i work with. they're all fantastic people that are very considerate and compassionate and for a fucking fast food place, that's AMAZING.

many of my managers have asked for my pronouns and which name i want to be addressed by. they're great about correcting themselves immediately when they have used my legal one.

i really had not allowed myself to be honest to myself about how terrified i was to come out about my gender identity and just be open about it. after the awful experiences i had working at the grocery store, i just didnt feel like it was ever the right time to commit. just kept it all inside, i guess. before i got fired by the TERF manager, that was one of the happiest periods of my adult life. i looked how i wanted, i gave people my correct name, and i was sure of myself in spite of annoyed co-workers.

i know the dysphoria is worse when i consider trying to conform to binary womanhood again, because i have tried to repeatedly through out my life and i feel much, much better when i present as a man. the joy that i got at work and at the psychiatry office when multiple ppl VOLUNTEERED to call me by my correct name, was indescribable. i didnt expect to be so overwhelmingly happy and relieved, that i've teared up about it a few times.

its so weird being 30 years old now, and finally admitting to myself that i DO want to transition.

my best friend for the last 10 years was a trans man, i care deeply about him and have had nothing but respect and admiration for him the entire time i knew him.

FFS, i was on tumblr for that entire time. i absolutely consider myself an ally to trans ppl even before i identified as nonbinary, and then transmasc and back to nonbinary...

i have been terribly afraid of the social and medical implications of committing to the transition tho. i repeatedly questioned myself and my motives, spent way too many hours trying to analyze if i just felt this way because of internalized misogyny, the clear lack of confidence in my identity or some desire to fit in.

now that i’m spending more time just in my own head, i know that the dysphoria i have is definitely because of my intersex condition. the imbalance of hormones absolutely effects my brain and mentality, but also it’s situated in a way that i react VERY poorly to estrogen and progesterone, along with some other supplements i’ve been prescribed over the years in order to “““fix”““ me.

i can only kind of tolerate just letting my body do what it can, but existing in public as an androgynous person is isolating. being referred to with my legal name is jarring, it genuinely confuses me when people talk about me with pronouns that i don’t feel belong to me.  

i know that i do not technically have to take T in order to introduce myself by my real name, and no matter what i do i will probably have to tolerate people using the incorrect pronouns for me..  but idk how to convince MYSELF that its not vain or superfluous to say that i want, i would be Happy to have a beard, to have a deep voice, to  be less quick to cry at little upsets and i already want and will probably need a hysterectomy in the future, among other things that happen when someone takes testosterone.

i guess my real hang up is that i don’t feel like i necessarily NEED those things, but feel like my quality of life and comfort in my own body would be drastically better.

but?! i don’t have those expectations of other people that transition. i don’t judge nonbinary, nondysphoric people or even cis lesbians that pursue HRT, so why do i do that to myself?

ehh, i know that the idea of being feminizing hormones is deeply upsetting to me, and i Always feel strange being called titles that people give to women. i already wear men's clothes, i already go by a men's name, and whether i get testosterone or not, i know who i am. i'm very grateful that i am surrounded by people that don't argue or question it.

[beingdreeyore]

It was a day. I don’t know how else to describe it. It certainly wasn’t the prettiest day or the most productive, but it was a day. It started with an early morning alarm and trip to the physio. Good news, surprisingly. Then off to work where it quickly deteriorated. 

He’s going to be my boss moving forward. I know. It’s probably not a shock that I had feelings about that. Big messy feelings. The kind that result in me calling him without warning to demand to know why he hadn’t told me first. 

Perhaps to some that might not seem like much, but I don’t call anyone without warning. I certainly don’t call to unleash on them. For a second there my warring self took over and I wanted to be able to just rage against the world. For a few moments I even let myself. Then the reality and shame of that kicked in. 

I was rougher with him than normal. Harsher. I heard my tone: judgemental. Which wasn’t fair. I wasn’t actually judging him. I was angry at him for not telling me, but I was more angry at myself for caring so much and for not having dealt with it all already. 

Today the carousel started again. A two hour phone call triggered by the news that I now answer to him, a break to take space and breathe, and then another work call that turned into yet another endless discussion of how we got here. Around and around we went. For four and a half hours. Trying to talk our way through to the other side of this mess we have created. 

The carousel keeps turning... 

Six and a half hours in total on the phone today. Some good. Some bad. Some tears. Some laughter. Highs and lows. The self-knowledge that I missed him and don’t want to have to continue grieving him over and over. But in all of that, in all six and a half hours, nothing has changed. 

I’m exhausted by it all. I know the sort of gentle nudges I would give to friends who told me they had spent that much time on the phone to someone, but I also see how quickly the time passes, how quickly we fall into those habits. There is always something else to talk about, some work related reason to keep going. Even now my words aren’t flowing like they should, like I know them to, because I feel so raw from it all. I’m exhausted. My sentences aren’t pretty or poetic like I need them to be because I’m distracted. They’re ugly to me and disjointed. Part of me doesn’t want to share this because I don’t want people reading the way this has impacted my words. 

Six and a half hours and I still want more. 

I keep seeing things that I want to text him, things I want to share with him and tell him, but I know I can’t. The time apart was so hard and now, as with every time this happens, the clock on day one starts again and with it the grieving and I want to delay all of that for as long as possible. I want to savour the moments I get - even the really painful ones.  

I honestly don’t know how we navigate this now that we are forced so completely to work together. I have made it clear that when the psychiatry college (hospital job) wants me to go full-time in August, I will now have to. I’d been searching for ways to get out of it, a way to runaway from their demands, but now I have to go. He and I can’t be in each others lives. I said to him today that we felt like a couple after a separation who then can’t get enough of each other. We both had so much we wanted to say, neither wanting to hang up, neither knowing how to end this... 

So the carousel has started again. Perhaps I should’ve known it would. Tomorrow is another day and the best we can do is just hope to navigate it better than we did today...