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oldermenfucker · 2 months ago

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You’re losing me | Dr. Robby

summary: he doesn’t notice how his behavior in The Pitt is making you fall from his arms, until the consequences of his actions catch up with him.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Robby doesn’t even realize he’s being a dick until it’s a tad bit too late, fem!reader, resident!reader, Abbot!reader (yes she is Jack’s younger sister), age gap (she’s late 20s/early 30s & Robby early 50s), p in v sex, lots of praise, mentions of blood & trauma (it’s The Pitt soooo), English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 9.8k+

an: hiiii so this is my first fic in this fandom hopefully you guys like this!!! More fics of our gorgeous Dr. Daddy and his bestie our other Dr. Daddy will be coming your way<333

Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕✨

You hate the quiet days of ER, as peaceful as it can get through. You crave the adrenaline rush you get from a trauma running through the doors, half bloody and half dead, but today even those cases can’t make your blood pressure as high as the scene in front of you does.

Collins chuckles at something Robby says, snorting and putting her hand up in surrender, patting his biceps before she leaves him alone. And him? He smiles back, his wrinkles around his eye deepening as his eyes follow her.

He is doing exactly what he labeled as ‘unprofessional’ behind closed doors with her, making you mad at him. He told you you must keep your relationship a secret or it would turn into The Pitt’s hottest gossip, and he didn’t want that, and given how most of the nurses and doctors know about his past relationship with Collins, it upsets you beyond belief.

You took this residency program to be with your brother and Robby, and also to get a steady job in the same hospital. Jack helped you tremendously with your transfer, making sure everything was perfect for you to take the morning shifts with your boyfriend, all so you could spend time with him more often.

But now, you are rethinking your decision to the point of no return. It has been months since you started your shifts here, and from the very beginning, Robby treated you like shit. Always hard on you, always criticizing your diagnosis, always on your back with a harsh comment.

You played it off like everyone else did, making sure to nod and say ‘yes, sir’ and move towards the next patient. But every word stung, and when you would tell him at night when you cuddled in his bed, he would brush it off and act like nothing happened.

It was fine at first, or at least you tried to deny what it truly was, but now, seeing him being so lighthearted with everyone in a slow shift while he barks orders at you left and right tears your heart into pieces, and worse, the smiles are always thrown in the direction of every doctor and nurse but you.

You look away as best as you can, trying to find a good case as you lean on Robby’s workstation, tapping your fingers in a rhythm as you scan the trauma board, biting your lip as you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Dr. Abbot,” he says, standing behind you while he looks between you and the board, “What are you looking for?”

“Something to take the edge off,” you don’t mean to sound snappy, but the words come out harsher than intended, and you take a deep breath because with the uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you are sure he has raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to come up with a snarky comment, “I’ll take the biker, Santos is with me.”

“Good,” he nods, pushing his fists into his pockets, but you don’t bother yourself to even glance at him, pushing past him as you drop your stethoscope around your neck, calling for Santos to follow you to the trauma bay.

You do not turn around to see Robby’s reaction; he is probably stunned by the way you ignored him. You have never done that despite how he treats you; it just never settled right inside you to be mean to him, but that was enough to set your mood off for the rest of the shift.

“Alright, what do we have here?” One question, and you get bombarded with answers, and you get your hands on the patient to stabilize him. Santos answers your questions and helps you with everything you might need.

You are light on your feet, keeping everyone in check in the trauma room to make sure the best treatment is given to the poor man who had crashed his bike. Santos listens closely, being snarky and witty about her comebacks, but helps you as best as she can, nonetheless.

“How’s the patient?” You watch as Santos starts to intubate the biker, her hands slightly shaking, ignoring Robby’s presence as he gloves in and moves next to stand next to you, listening to the nurses update him on the patient’s status.

“I’m in!” Santos beams, looking up at you, and you smile back, giving her a quick thumbs up before you turn around, suddenly chest to chest with Robby.

He looks down at you, a silent question hanging in the air between you as he keeps staring back, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You take a deep breath in response, taking off your gloves roughly, making a loud smacking sound of plastic echo in the trauma room.

“He’s stable and ready to go to the OR,” you fist the gloves in a ball, pulling the white gown off in a hurry, taking a step around Robby to avoid his burning stare, “Santos helped a lot.”

“You called the shots without telling me first.” It’s not a question; it is a statement, and he does not look happy at all. “You are still a resident, you have two more years to go! Why are you being so reckless?”

“The patient was dying, Dr. Robby, I had to do what was necessary—“

“You were unsupervised—“

“She wasn’t,” Collins steps into the room, looks between the two doctors with a small smile, pointing at Santos, who stands awkwardly next to Collins, pouting slightly and rocking on the balls of her feet, “Dr. Santos came to me and told me about this case.”

You gape at her, fighting off a small grateful smile before feeling your heart thumping in your ribcage as if it’s ready to jump out; you are angry at him, furious even, and Robby is just as hot-headed if not more. You can see the dark glare in his eyes as he looks between Collins and you, finally settling them on you.

“Dr. Collins is also a resident, you must consult an Attending. Don’t ever do that again,” he whips out his own gloves, his usual warm brown eyes hold nothing but anger, “You are lucky he is stable.”

“I am not lucky, Dr. Robby.” You take another step closer, feeling his hot breath fanning against your face, “I am a good doctor, hell, even a great doctor. I can do it on my own.”

“Trauma coming through in two minutes! Drowning victim!” Dana’s shout stops Robby from firing back a response to you.

“We’re not done yet,” he points his finger at you, scoffing when you look up, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone. With that, Robby jogs toward the gurney Langdon is pulling into another trauma room, leaving you, Santos, and Collins alone.

“Walk with me, Dr. Abbot?” Collins smiles, muttering to Santos to go find another patient before she waits for you to join her at the door, watching you closely as you slam your gloves and gown into the trash, using the sanitizer machine on the wall before you give her a quick smile.

“Sure.”

You both walk to the nurse station, standing shoulder to shoulder while you look at the trauma board. You are nervous; how can you not be? Collins is Robby’s ex. She is gorgeous, intelligent, and a very talented doctor. But what is making you shake slightly is how she stepped in to save you from your boyfriend’s scolding.

“Thank you…” You mumble quietly, or as quietly as you can in a chaotic ER, giving her a grateful yet awkward smile as well.

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging before she continues, “I’ve been in your shoes a few years ago. It’s exhausting.”

“What?” You ask, confused and dumbfounded, your lips parting in surprise when she side eyes you playfully, shaking her head and laughing slowly, “What do you mean? What are you laughing at, Dr. Collins?”

“You guy are not as subtle as you think you are,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looks back at the board, squeezing your shoulder, “I can see how you look at him, I used to do the same, having high hopes that one day he’ll quit being harsh on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to play it off cool, acting as if you have no idea what she is saying, but Collins sees straight through your lie, raising her eyebrows at you with boredom. You sigh, dropping your head on her shoulder, “Fine! Yes, he’s my boyfriend, or at least I thought he was. It is… tiresome to deal with his mean words every day.”

“He’s been riding you for so long,” she sighs too, patting your arm gently, “It’s no excuse, but… he thinks if he pushes you away, he can maintain his professional standards or whatever he calls them. He’s done it before, and he’s doing it again.”

“I know what he is trying to do,” you shake your head, exhaling shakily, “He doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s dating his resident, and Jack Abbot’s younger sister, so he goes on a spiral to be mean to me and put a distance between us.”

“Well, he’s doing a poor job at both,” she snorts, letting go of you to reach for an iPad, going through different cases to choose one for you. “He is an idiot, you just have to learn to live with it if you wanna work here.”

“Sometimes I think he hates me.”

“Hey, no—“

“What are you two up to?” Dana interrupts Heather, leaning on the station behind her as she looks between the two of you, “What has he done this time?”

“He’s being unreasonable to Dr. Abbot.”

“Not unreasonable, but… just how an attending with a ‘Robinavitch’ last name would be,” you try to crack a joke, but Dana winces and gives you a sympathetic look.

“C’mon, I’ve known him more than your experiences combined. He is being a dick to you because he is scared, give him hell for it, alright? Now go play doctors until I knock some sense into your loverboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Collins says, pointing at one of the trauma rooms, “South fourteen, Twenty-four years old male with a twisted ankle — probably sprained. Take this, Dr. Abbot, it’ll give you a break until you are well enough to come back.”

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing the iPad from her hands, nodding as you walk towards the patient’s room, head swirling with different thoughts about what those two women just told you.

You are aware of what Robby is doing, or at least you think you do. It makes sense to some extent; he is a professional man, a doctor who runs The Pitt and barely survives every day, and yet, he gives you the worst treatment out of everyone because he doesn’t want to reveal your relationship to the world.

And it breaks your heart to tolerate his mean words and being the punching bag to his sour moods, receiving all the blows just because you are in arm’s reach — what makes it worse is that he does not even realize how bad his words are, and when you confront him at night after his long hot shower, he only shrugs and tells you if Dana found out about you, then everyone can.

Excuse after excuse.

You roll your shoulders back, knocking on the door as you enter the trauma room, finding Princess going through the patient’s file and waiting for you to join them.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Abbot!” You smile and get to work, sitting on the chair next to the bed as you examine the guy’s ankle, looking for inflammation and bruising as you try to distract him from the pain.

“Well, you’re lucky it’s not broken,” you nod, taking your gloves off before turning toward Princess, “Send him to radiology to get an X-ray, I’m sure it’s only a sprain, but let’s take a look anyway.”

“Dr. Abbot!” Mel barges inside the room, panting slightly as she looks at you with wide eyes, “New patient! Forty-five-year-old female with a head concussion and a broken stick in her upper arm. She fell on the fence while she was trying to clean the windows of her house.”

“Let’s go,” you stand up, dropping the gloves you used on the previous patient into the bin, sanitizing your hands before running towards the gurney, finding Mohan and Robby discussing different procedures, “How is she?”

“Pupils dilated, unresponsive—“ you try to focus on what Samira is saying, you are, but Robby’s gaze moves from the patient to you, watching you closely as you and Mohan start to stabilize the patient, but it is awfully hard to not get distracted with how intense his presence is.

“She’s having a heart attack—“ you rush to lower the back of the bed, flattening the patient before scissoring her dress, baring her chest to Mel to put the pads on, Mohan increasing the voltage to two hundred, waiting for everyone to step back, “Clear!”

The patient does not respond to the shock. Mohan and Robby work together to keep her blood pressure high, but all of a sudden, the lines of the monitor go flat, and the beeping stops.

“Asystolic…” Mel whispers, standing next to you as Mohan takes off the pads, waiting for her Attending’s orders.

“Start compressions!”

You put one knee on the bed, interlocking your fingers before starting to push on the patient’s chest, huffing with each move as everyone waits in the room with bated breath.

“Hold compressions,” Robby tells you, waiting to see if the heart restarts, but when he sees the flat line again, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, “Push an epi and resume compressions again.”

You begin to push down on her chest, body, and shoulders, moving with each press, trying to keep your breathing in check while you look at Robby to say something, anything.

But the line falls flat again after you stop, but before you can bend down to restart CPR, Robby’s voice stops you, “She’s dead,” he announces, looking down at his watch before he exhales deeply, “16:38��”

You step down from the bed, throwing your head back with your hands on your hips, shaking your head as you silently mourn the loss of your patient.

“Doctor Abbot, a word?”

Your fingers tighten at your hips, and when you look back at him, you find him already leaving towards the break room, not even waiting for you to follow him. With a scoff, you move behind him, ignoring Mel and Samira’s confused stares.

“What is it—“

“What was that?” He stops as soon as you both are in the break room, pressing his lips into a thin line as he intertwines his fingers behind his neck, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“What was what, Robby? I did what you told me—“ you try to answer as best as possible, but when he turns around, his chocolate eyes overflowing with disbelief.

“Who does a compression like that? They were too weak, not deep enough, and they were not helping! Just a waste of time on a patient we could have saved—“

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You raise your voice, pointing to his chest before fisting your hands and lock your hands next to your body, “They were fine, just as they should have been! Don’t put this loss on me, she had a head concussion and god knows how many wood chips in her bloodstream. We didn’t even get to check that—“

“You are messing up real bad today.”

“This case was supervised by you, Doctor Robinavitch,” you spit the words out, gone the calm girl who would brush his horrible words off, now replaced with a furious woman, “How hypocritical of you to say belittling isn’t a good way of teaching and yet, you are insulting and belittling me, your girlfriend, Robby!”

“This is my workplace, I am your Attending, not your goddamn boyfriend,” he replies, his tone dangerously low, and for the first time, he seems to be taken back by his own outburst, dropping his head as he takes a long breath.

“Fine,” your lips quiver, voice breaking slightly, which makes Robby’s head snap upwards and his eyes widen as he realizes what unbelievable damage he has done, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Wait, honey—“

“Don’t.”

With one last glance, you march out of the room toward the nurse’s station, looking for Dana to see if you can clock out earlier. You cannot stay in this place any longer, it is eating you alive and tearing your sanity apart.

“Have you seen Dana?” As soon as you see her walking with Collins, you approach her with teary eyes, nails digging harshly into your palms, “Dana, I need out.”

“What happened to you, kid?” She asks, putting her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing your arms up and down, “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

Heather only smiles and reaches to pat your back, shaking her head as she watches Dana guide you towards the ambulance bay, turning to glare at Robby, who just stepped out of the break room.

You don’t have the strength to keep your tears from falling as soon as Dana leads you out. You cry softly, wiping the tears as they stream down your cheeks, melting into Dana’s motherly embrace.

“I’m sorry—“

“Shh, you’re okay, kid,” she wraps her arms around you tightly, holding your face to her shoulder as you cry out, “I’m gonna kick his ass, don’t worry.”

You cackle a little, squeezing her before letting go, allowing her to cup your face in her hands, giving you a soft, defeated look before she starts talking.

“You are a great doctor, alright? One of our best residents, don’t let a man fuck it up,” she holds your head straight, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her, “He is a dick, I know that—“

“There’s a but coming and I don’t like it.” You try to move away from her, but she keeps your head locked in place, her gaze turning serious.

“But…” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, but she only cracks a smile and continues, “He is lost. It’s been so long since he has felt like this. The last time was with Heather, and let me tell you it was just as bad in the hospital.”

“So he treats his girlfriend like shit until she gives up?” Your voice shakes again, finally freeing yourself from her grip, pacing in the ambulance bay, “I hate how he says to remain professional, yet all he does is complain and belittle me for my medical decisions and when I bring it up he says it’s all empty fucking words and he doesn’t mean it!”

“He doesn’t mean any of it, I’m sure—“

“I’m done, Dana,” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, looking at her with eyes full of sorrow. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Look at me,” she raises your head with a finger under your chin, her tone dead serious, “I know it must be exhausting, but do you want to know what it is that makes the thing you have so special and worth the effort?”

“What?”

“He is in love with you,” she smiles, bringing you into her arms again, rocking you back and forth as you smell her hospital-induced scent, “I have never seen him like this.”

“It doesn’t make it okay for him to insult me… he said,” you hiccup on your sob, “He said that when we are here he isn’t my ‘goddamn boyfriend’ and… he said it like the word repulsed him.”

“He’s such an idiot,” she groans, watching in confusion as you reach for your phone, pulling it out before you call someone, “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Jack.”

“No, ah uh, nope,” she shakes her head, giving you a disapproving look, but she knows how hard Robby’s words must be, and they definitely have taken a toll on you and your relationship. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid.”

“Too late for that,” you sigh, tapping your feet on the ground as you wait for your brother to answer, “Jack, answer the fucking phone.”

“Hmm?”

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you scoff, throwing your hand up when he groans at your voice. “Be at least a bit excited to hear my voice, Jack.”

“The day I do that you’ll bury me six feet deep,” Jack says on the other side of the phone, voice raspy from the deep sleep he must have had, “Usually texting me fills the hole in your miserable life, sister, how bad is it this time that you needed to call?”

“I…” you try to say it, you really do, but the words get stuck inside your throat, a slow whine breaks past your lips, alerting your brother on the phone.

“Hey, hey! What’s up?” His usual sarcastic demeanor fades away, his voice shifting into unimaginable concern, “Talk to me, kid. Are you okay?”

“I…” you suck in a sharp breath, clearing your throat as you look at Dana smoking a cigarette next to you, “No, I’m not.”

“Are you physically hurt? Do I need to come? What the fuck’s happened, kiddo?” You can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on his pants to bolt through the door and get himself to the hospital.

“No and yes,” you sit on the edge of the pavement, “I think I wanna move back in with you—“

“What the fuck?” He says with so much love, you nearly melt at the spot, “What happened? Did he do something? Do I need to break his nose?”

“You love him more than you love me, so it doesn’t work like that,” you chuckle, sighing softly as you listen to him grumble and put his prosthetic leg on, “But… yeah, I can’t handle it anymore, I think I’ll move back in with you if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course, kid, whatever you want,” you hear him zip up his jacket, walking towards the door of his apartment to come and get you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He’s so mean to me on our shifts, I can’t bear to be the only person he speaks to like that. It’s affecting my practices and my fucking sanity,” you drop your head between your arms, back hunching uncomfortably, “He acts more lovingly with Collins than he does with me and it upsets me so much.”

“Listen up,” he locks the door and walks to the elevator, “He is an ass for whatever reason he must have, but I know you, and I know him. You don’t deserve to be the one on whom he takes out his frustration, and I know you’ve tried to talk it out with him, but he’s probably too far into his head to listen to the voice of reason. I’m gonna come and get you so we can talk.”

“Okay, call me when you get here, I’m gonna go see a few patients before I clock out, love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo. Stay away from him.”

“Will do my best,” you say and hang up, shrugging when Dana gives you her significant look, “What now?”

“Nothing, just you’re too sweet and caring. Robby better get his head outta the water and see what he’s taking for granted.”

You chuckle, shoving your phone back into your pocket, stretching your arms before getting ready to get back into the hellhole you chose to spend the rest of your residency in, Dana following you after she puts out her cigarette with the tip of her sneakers.

“Let’s hope it’s not too late for that.”

•••••

You barely manage to handle a few patients for the next half hour without running into Robby, stabling, and helping with the triage from time to time until Jack gets here to pick you up.

“I’m gonna go…” You announce to Dana and Collins, sitting down to finish one last report and head out, “I… I think I might take night shifts from now on.”

“What?”

“C’mon, no, that’s a stretch—“ Heather says, sitting down on the rolling chair and moving it to sit next to you, “We need you here. You’re an amazing doctor, besides every shift needs an Abbot at most.”

“Yeah, well, the whole point of getting into the morning shifts was to learn from and spend time with Robby. Now that went down the fucking drain,” you look at Heather, your tone clipped and exhausted, “He is throwing a year and half relationship away for… whatever reasons. I don’t have to tolerate it anymore.”

“Please, reconsider this,” Dana jumps in, leaning over the station, “Go for now, take tomorrow off, and talk with Jack.”

“Will do— and my job’s done here! I’ll see you when I take the night shifts from you,” You smile, hugging both of them quickly before you go to the lockers, grabbing your belongings before you reply to Jack’s ‘I’m here, knucklehead’ with a quick thanks.

You don’t look behind you as you bolt to the exit of the ED, not hearing Robby’s footsteps following you as you make your way to the park in front of the hospital, seeing Jack’s truck waiting for you.

“Wait—“

You don’t. You can’t. If you stay one more minute here, you will lose your mind. You pick up your pace, ignoring the calls of your name as you walk faster, sighing in relief when Jack steps down from his truck, but as soon as you reach him, Robby grabs your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to ground you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes wide in anticipation, chest heaving rapidly, as if he is imagining all these, “Your shift isn’t over yet…?”

“I can’t continue working on a shift that my Attending has no respect for me,” you turn around, looking at him dead in the eyes but the tears betray you sooner than you expected, “I have already told Jack I’ll switch to night shifts with him and he said he’ll sign it off for me—“

“I did?” Jack whispers, raising his eyebrow at you as he glances between you and Robby.

“Don’t do this, darling, look at me—“ Robby cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“I need time! You clearly don’t like me enough to be a decent human being to me on our shifts! I chose to stay with you, to learn from you and be with you during the hard days but you are fucking unbelievable!”

“Alright, alright,” Jack interrupts when he sees Robby’s glassy eyes, and it is only a matter of time he will breakdown in front of you — something that has never happened before — so he puts his hand on Robby’s back, “I’ll take her home for now, brother. Both of you need some time away from each other.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Robby replies hopefully, gently stroking your arm as he stares into your eyes, waiting for any sign of forgiveness, but when he sees none, he nods and steps away.

You miss the warmth of his grip immediately, but the ache in your chest is far too great to push everything aside and cave in. You need this time off, you must think and come up with a solution. Perhaps the night shift might help you take your mind off him.

“I’m off tomorrow,” you reply, wiping the tear that falls on your cheek quickly, turning your back to the men who are looking at you attentively, “I just need some space.”

“Okay…”

“Alright,” Jack hugs Robby, patting his back, “I think you fucked up big time, brother. Let me talk to her and see what happens, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robby nods, head hanging low as he watches you get inside the truck, sighing deeply before he says his goodbye to Jack and leaves, running a hand through his hair while he walks away.

“Talk, kid,” Jack starts the truck, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you only stifle your sobs and look down at your hands, squeezing your eyes shut, “Only the senior Abbot gets to be the traumatized sad one. So… “

“He is… a lot, but I thought I could handle it,” you wipe the tears, resting your elbow on the window’s edge, watching how Jack starts turning the wheel and drives the car out of the parking, “Hell, I was handling it, but I didn’t know he would turn into such a short tempered and spiteful person only towards me. He even…” you choke on your sob before you continue, “He even treats Gloria better than me, can you imagine it? He criticizes every diagnosis I make, every order I give, every single pill I prescribe, but it’s just me, his girlfriend…”

“I’m sorry,” Jack sighs, stopping the car when the light turns red, reaching to hold your hand, his hazel eyes finding your teary ones. He shakes his head slightly, his heart clenching at the sight of you tittering at the edge of a breakdown before he pulls you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, kissing your forehead as the two of you wait for the light to turn green, “He is being a dick to you because he is scared… he did the same thing to Collins but… It’s pretty different this time. I know it, I can see it, he is afraid of losing you more than losing himself.”

“It doesn’t make sense!” You hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes, “Can’t he see that being so-so harsh on me leads to exactly what he fears? He is losing me, Jack, and I hate it. I don’t want him to lose me, but every day I spend in the ER with him, I feel him slipping away from my fingers slowly. I don’t wanna lose him either.”

Jack keeps quiet, kissing the crown of your head once or twice as he starts driving again, letting you tell him everything, opening your heart to him.

“I saw how he was with Heather years ago before I even began to like him,” you say, no longer crying, just voicing your feelings in a numb tone while your heart aches for some sort of relief, “And I thought we were different, I thought he changed, but… maybe there is no hope for us either.”

“He loves you,” Jack replies, “He loved Heather too, but… he is in love this time.”

“How are you so sure?” You ask, straightening your back as you look at his side profile, watching how a small smile takes over his face.

“I know him better than you do, kid.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you scoff playfully, “My brother knows my boyfriend better than I. Are you sure he’s not cheating on me with you?”

“Please, I’ll never lower my standards to Robby.” he winks at you when you snort, “You bet no one wants him, he’s all yours.”

“Well, I’m not really sure about that anymore,” you shrug, “I don’t think he’s even mine anymore… and mind you, I always wanted my partner to be like you, so take it as an insult with a grain of salt, asshole.”

“You wound me,” Jack chuckles, glancing at your soft, unsure smile, “on the night shift thing… Are you sure you want me to be your Attending? I can be worse than him.”

“I’m used to your horrible attitude, and besides, we don’t have sex, so your chances of hurting me are half as likely.”

“I’m too old to be the victim of your incest jokes,” he reaches for the remote to open the door to the apartment’s parking lot, “And I do have sex, but unlike you, I don’t like shoving it in my sister’s face.”

“I never did that!” You laugh, nudging his side with your elbow when he safely parks the car, “I’m just saying I don’t take your insults as my Attending seriously because we’re blood related and I know what goes through your head.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack sighs, rubbing a palm over his face, “Not maybe, definitely. He can’t say what goes through his head and… it bottles up inside him until he explodes.”

“Then that’s too bad, cause the only person he harms is me.”

••••••••••

Robby has been searching for you all through the ER for the past week. You know it is not the most mature way to go through this crisis, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You start taking the night shifts, meeting with Dana and Collins as night owls take over the floor while you openly avoid Robby at all times, fleeing the scene every time you get so much as a glimpse of his navy blue hoodie in the corner of your eye.

He, too, has been chasing you relentlessly. Making sure to stay a few more hours to just see you and get to tell you a simple hello, but you go out of your way to hide in the bathroom until Ellis comes and collects you, giving you a thumbs up that means Robby’s given up on finding you again.

This is the routine for a good few nights; escaping Robby for the first hours of your shift, having a breakdown in the bathroom, save a bunch of lives and argue with your brother — Attending — until you sneak out of the hospital without Robby seeing you when he comes to take over the floor from your brother.

Jack forces you to take a few days off this week. You have been running through ER every night on caffeine and energy drinks, four hours of sleep, and a broken heart. So, given how much of a great brother Jack is, he tells you to take a few nights off this week.

Home alone, comfy under a blanket with a boring movie playing on the TV, the least you could expect is to hear a knock on your brother’s apartment at such a dark hour — and worse? You recognize the pattern of knocks immediately. Three knocks: one slow and unsure, the second one stronger and confident, the last one shy and anticipating.

You want to disappear, to ignore the knocks and melt through the cushions of the couch. But the very familiar pattern is pulling you in, making your heart race and limbs tingling.

With some courage that is near nonexistent, you push the blanket off, slowly padding towards the door, flexing and relaxing your fingers a few times, a couple deep breaths before you reach for the door knob, twisting it and revealing a very tired and teary-eyed Robby.

Your breath hitches as you take him in; shoulders slumped heavily, eyebags much darker than you remember, his body tense with so much unresolved emotion, and his eyes… his eyes, those pools of chocolate brown that always make your face warm and your heart beat rapidly — they are filled to the brim with shame and guilt. It will only take one push to have those watercolor droplets stream down his cheeks.

“Robby…”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as if hearing his name fall from your lips is the freshest air he has ever breathed. You can see him visibly relax, your voice soothing his concerns about your well-being.

“Hi,” he leans with his hand on the doorframe, looking down at his shoes as he tries to keep his voice from breaking, “Hi…”

“Hey,” you bite your lip, looking behind him as you try to gather your thoughts, “What are you doing here?”

“I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around the wooden frame, dragging his eyes back to yours slowly, letting you use them as a mirror to his soul, “I had to see you.”

“Robby—“

“No, no, let me talk—“ he cuts you off, resting his hands on the bridge of his nose, then sighing and putting them on his hips, “I fucked up, I know that. I-I messed up so bad, I know, I fucking know. You’re a goddamn amazing doctor, my best resident, I loathe myself for how I treated you.”

“You were so mean…” You can feel your own tears stinging your eyes, and it only gets worse when you look up to him, finding him flushed and on the verge of breaking, “Why?”

“Just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought if I pushed you away in the hospital, we could work better together, and then-then the lines blurred and I couldn’t notice how far I distanced myself from you.”

“I was right there, Robby,” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears finally burst, “All you had to do was to give us one chance to work together.”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches to cup your face, his face wet from seeing your tears, “I can’t handle it, I will break beyond repair if I see you cry, please…”

You put your palms on top of his, leaning forward to gently rest your forehead against his, sobbing in his arms. You are quite surprised when you hear him sniff and cry, just as equally pained and sad — he is crying because you are crying.

“No one deserves your tears,” he leans down and kisses the droplets slowly, his chapped lips making a beautiful contrast with your soft skin. First your cheeks, following the wet path down to your chin before he comes up and pecks your closed eyelids, “Much less me.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” you can feel him softly crying as he presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo he so desperately misses, “I can’t function without you on my shifts, I can’t think straight, I can’t… my life is incomplete without you.”

You tilt your head back, forcing him to look at you, but the way you gaze at him only spurs him on to continue, and when those three words fall from his lips, he can no longer control his emotions.

“I love you,” he closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting his beard each passing moment, “I don’t show it a lot, I’ve treated you so poorly, you must be thinking I don’t care about you, but I do, a lot. I love you, and there is nothing nearly as good as you in my life. I hang in there for twelve hours, but when I see you, it feels like my entire life makes sense, like I have a purpose, a reason to come back, a reason to move forward.”

“Oh, Robby…” you cup his cheeks, pulling his face down, brushing your nose against his, “I love you too, so much.”

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his softly, just a taste, perhaps a promise of a better tomorrow. He doesn’t rush you either, he kisses you back with relief, the weight lifting off his shoulders slowly.

He doesn’t deepen the kiss, allowing you to lead him this time, tasting the remaining bittersweet flavor of his nicotine gum. Robby’s hands go to your back, pulling you closer if possible, feeling the heat of your body seeping through the layers of his outfit.

“Robby,” you break the kiss, hovering your lips over his as you speak, “I still need some time. I… I have been getting along with the night shift, and I need some time away.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” he nods, his fingers tightening around your waist, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything.”

“I know, my love,” you pout, stroking his bearded cheek gently, “There are a lot of things we have to work on, but for now… I need to step back.”

“Alright.”

•••••••

Maybe it was a bad decision to listen to your brother and take another night off. You feel useless being home alone without your stethoscope around your neck and those god-awful tight scrubs the hospital gave you.

Now you are sure it was a terrible decision to take the night off, because now you have to explain to a very anxious brother and a much more anxious boyfriend why you and nearly thirty other injured people are being rushed to the PTMC’s ER.

“Abbot?” Shen is in the triage they made of the ambulance bay, rushing towards you with Ellis in toe to help you out of the car, “What the fuck? What happened to you?”

“I was in the same restaurant, fuck, my leg—“ you groan, clinging to the doctors as they sit you on the wheelchair, Shen giving Ellis a look to take you inside, dodging the gurneys and patients left and right until she finds you an empty corner, telling you to wait for someone to come and help you, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Kid?” Dana gasps, jogging toward you as soon as her eyes fall on your face and stretched leg, “Fucking hell, you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to have a nice dinner out, unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that collapsed,” you scoff, trying to pull the sundress you are wearing down to cover at least your mid-thigh. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine! Probably just a hairline fracture on my Fibula and a bunch of bruises on my body.”

“You look like you’ve fist fought a three hundred pound man,” she glares at you, kneeling in front of your wheelchair to take a look at the bruises on your neck and arms, “For whatever’s worth, you look like a piece of candy in this dress.”

“Too bad no one was there to appreciate me,” you crack a smile, hissing when she pushes the sundress’ sleeve further down your shoulder, her fingers stroking the huge purple-ish spot.

“I’m gonna order you a CT, can’t wait to get a doctor here,” she looks at you, noticing the sadness in your eyes, “You look beautiful, don’t worry about him, he’s a moron.”

“I’m more worried about how he’ll lose his shit if he sees me like this—“

“Sister?!”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you groan, tipping your head back as Jack runs towards you, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair as he takes in your state. You look at Dana, giving her a pleading look, “Help me escape?”

“And miss Robby hovering around you like a mother hen? Hell, nah,” she chuckles, caressing your head before she stands up, “You’re in good hands, kid. Dr. Abbot here knows a thing or two about medicine.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Dana,” Jack rolls his eyes playfully before he looks back to you. “How bad is the leg? Did you hit your head? Let’s get you a CT first, then radiology—“

“Nope, I don’t need a head CT, I just need some painkillers and an X-ray. Think I have a tiny hairline fracture in my leg—“

“Can you stand on your feet?” He asks, helping you up with his hands on your waist, watching how you stand up in pain, “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Around my ankle, lateral malleolus,” you hiss again, holding onto Jack’s shoulder as he guides you back on the wheelchair, “Maybe it’s not even a fracture, just a sprain, yeah?”

“Possibly, but you’re not the doctor here.” he fixes you with a stern look as he applies pressure around your ankle, trying to see where it hurts the most. “Let the adults handle this.”

“Then get a responsible adult in here,” you say, laughing when he makes a gurgling noise, pressing on the spot where it hurts the most, making you shrink and pull your feet out of his grasp. “You’re pushing fifty and still act like you’re ten. Grow up.”

“Unfortunately for you your ‘responsible adult’ is Robby who is—“ he turns around, finding Robby stopping midway when he gets a glimpse of you on a wheelchair, “Near freaking the fuck out. Have fun, Miss Abbot.”

“Wait— no! He can’t treat me, he can’t handle it, I swear, Jack, if you take one more step—“

Your words die in your throat as you watch Robby walk your way quickly, his hands shaking and his eyes — his sad fucking puppy eyes that have your heart running miles an hour — scanning your entire body in a hurry.

“What happened?” Robby’s voice shakes as he reaches to hold your cheek in his hands, his touch hesitant and trembling, “What did Jack say? Do-do you need to go up? Are you okay—“

“Robby, I’m fine,” you reply gently, smiling as he keeps on bombarding you with several questions you have already answered, watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head when he sees the huge bruise on your shoulder, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to my very energetic ER resident in a few days. I can even help now—“

“No, absolutely not,” he purses his lips, ghosting his knuckles over your bruise before he sighs and looks back to your face, “You gonna go home, take some painkillers, you know which ones help you the most, and rest. What were you doing there anyway? What happened?”

“I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner, got ready and all,” and you smile shyly when his eyes finally drag on your body, taking in the way the sundress clings to your chest and stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffs out a laugh, “Bad timing, darling. Now I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”

“Good,” you reach for his hand, stroking his fingers as you explain what happened there. “There was some construction work on the building next to the restaurant. One second, everything was fine, but then something dropped on us, half of the ceiling came down, and we ran out. I fell down while I was trying to get past the exit.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” his tone grows serious, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, “But what if you did? You should have told someone you were there, you have to stop being so reckless and—“

“Robby—“

“What if something worse happened to you—“

“Robby—“

“What if you ended up like one of these people, I wouldn’t be able to live—“

“Michael, stop!” The way his first name falls from your lips freezes him immediately, his eyes widen in terror, but when he sees you smiling at him, he melts down instantly, “Look at me, I’m fine! Nothing a splint and Tylenol can’t fix, besides, I have two doctors hovering around me all the time. I’m fine and I will be fine, okay?”

“Okay…” he nods, clinging to your hand as he fights a few unshed tears, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’d be worse if you were in my position,” you sigh in annoyance when you see Whitaker coming your way, squeezing Robby’s hand to get his attention, “Go, they need you now. I’ll buy the splint on the way home, I just need to find my bag.”

“I have it!” Dana comes with Jack on toe, “Checked for keys, phone, credit cards, a bunch of lipsticks, and your necklace. All in there and good to go.”

“Thank you, seriously!” You say, resting your arm around Robby’s shoulder as he helps you up by one hand on your ribs and the other on your waist, “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safely, alright?”

“You need a key? I can hand you mine,” Jack says, and raises an eyebrow when you hesitate and bite your lip, looking back at Robby before you shake your head and grab your purse, “What?”

“I think I’ll go back home,” you utter softly, looking into Robby’s eyes as his pupils blow in surprise, “If it’s okay with you?”

“You wanna come back?” He asks, his voice no louder than a whisper, his grip tightening on you as he waits for an answer.

“Yeah…”

“Okay then,” Jack interrupts, “Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news, but we've got patients and you need to rest. So go back to your place and sleep.”

“Do you…” Robby clears his throat, “Do you have the keys? Or should I grab mine—“

“No, I have mine,” you smile, leaning up as best as you can on one foot to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back home.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say your goodbyes to others as well, giving Dana and Jack a halfway hug, limping over to the back door of the floor before you call for an Uber and drive back home.

•••••••

You take the advice and rest. You don’t know what time it is when you hear the quiet jiggling of the keys and the front door being pushed open, but the familiar sound of footsteps is enough to calm your racing mind.

“Hey,” you say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up on the bed, watching how Robby relaxes immediately when he spots you.

He takes off his hoodie and scrubs, sitting on the edge of the bed topless as he takes off his socks slowly, sighing contently when you scoot closer, rubbing a hand over his warm back, kissing his broad shoulder.

“How are you?” He asks, turning around so he can take a better look at your face, “Anything hurt?”

“No,” you reply, gently running your fingers on his neck, caressing his collarbone, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Honestly?” He scoffs, looking down at your exposed thighs, under one of his worn-out t-shirts you have on, “Exhausted, but… I’m very happy you are back.”

“I’m happy to be back too,” you lean down to kiss his shoulder again, “Go take a shower and come back to me. It’ll help you relax.”

He nods and leans down to peck your lips, sighing in relief when he rests his forehead on yours. Robby nods again and, with a deep breath, he forces himself to stand up and let your hand fall from his skin.

He comes back ten minutes later, hair towel dried and another one hanging dangerously low on his hip bones. He lets out another tired sigh, smiling when he finds you sitting up against the headboard.

“I missed having you here.”

“I missed being here,” you point to the empty space next to you, extending your hand so he knows what to do, watching as he slowly crawls on the bed, carefully resting his head on the soft podge of your stomach, circling his arms around your waist.

“You’re okay, Michael.” You thread your fingers through his soft hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he hums and buries his face further into your belly, “I got you, my love.”

“I thought I was losing you,” he tears up, biting his tongue in order to stop himself from crying, but it is in vain because the second you lean down to press a kiss on his head, he is breaking, “I did, for a few days… and it was the worst time of my life. I wasn’t alive, I… I just existed. I breathed, but I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that I let my insecurities get this far, that I had to let go of you.”

“But I’m here now,” you wrap your other arm around his shoulder, holding him close as he cries silently, his shoulders shaking, but not a sound coming from him, “I’m here to work on these things. I never left to begin with, I… I should have knocked some sense into you when you told me my CPR pose was bad.”

“That was a low blow, I’m sorry,” he holds on to you tightly, one of his large palms starting to caress your hips to your knees, letting his fingers follow the path of your thigh, “You’re a magnificent doctor, and I’m sorry that you had to endure months of suffering because of me. Fuck, I should have been the one to stop others not to be the one to give you a hard time.”

“It’s over now, Robby.” You watch him sit up slowly, his much larger body cornering yours to the headboard without even trying to, “We gonna figure this out. I’ll stay on night shifts until we sort out everything, but for now, I just want my boyfriend.”

He nods, closing the gap between your face until he reaches your lips, pressing a soft, experimental kiss before you grab the back of his neck to deepen it. Robby keeps himself up by one hand on the headboard and the other on your hip, moving his lips with yours in sync.

“I don’t wanna hurt you more—“

“Shh,” you nibble on his bottom lip, gently lowering your back on the mattress before you pull him on top of you, your free hand playing with the edge of the towel around his hips, “You will definitely hurt me if you deny my request.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need you, Robby.” You frown when he doesn’t immediately get rid of the towel, and his eyes lock in on your face. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you: “You don’t want to… have sex?”

“No! I do, I really do!” He chuckles, lowering himself on top of you after he pushes the covers off your body, grabbing your hand gently before he brings it to the very evident bulge under the towel, “See what you do to me? I need you too, so so badly, but I will hate myself if I make you uncomfortable more than you probably are.”

“Stop overthinking and fuck me already!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he leans down again, kissing you passionately while you untuck the towel and drop it on the floor, making him hiss in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his aching lenghth, “Fuck, I missed this.”

“Me too,” you reply breathlessly, letting him pull off your — his — shirt and pushing your panties to the side, “If you don’t do anything, I won’t let you sleep on this bed for another week.”

“Bossy,” he kisses you quickly before he grabs your thigh in his hand, mindful of your other foot being in a splint while he makes home between your legs, his heavy cock resting on your hip as he tries to adjust your positions, “Jack’s wearing off on you.”

“Don’t talk about my brother when you are about to fuck me,” you wrap both of your arms around his shoulder and your good leg around his waist, “Unless you two have something for each other that I don’t know about.”

“Have some faith in me, I have a good taste in Abbots, and he is not the one,” you both laugh, and he nudges your nose with his, his warm brown eyes filled with pent-up lust and longing, “I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance, easing himself into you slowly, careful of your bruises.

Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, clinging to the other with every fiber of your being as Robby stretches you out, pushing his cock until he has nothing to give. His dick’s snuggled tightly between your velvet walls, your cunt gripping him like a vice and never wanting to go.

He gasps when you clench around him, resting his forehead on yours as both of you begin to pant, your chests heaving with each breath.

“You feel so good, Robby,” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, making your breath hitch as his cock reaches deep inside you.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” his lips fall open as he picks up his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “The most perfect human ever.”

“Oh, fuck—“ you throw your head back, tangling your fingers in Robby’s soft short hair, tugging at it as he slams himself inside you with a newfound desire — his movements tactical enough not to hurt you but just the right amount of roughness to make your leg shake around his hip, “I’m not gonna last long!”

“Me neither, darling,” he groans, the sound of squelching filling the room, nearly tripping over the edge when he sees you reaching between your bodies to rub on your clit, “Fuck, baby…”

“I’m gonna come—“ you release a loud moan, spilling around his girth as you reach your peak, your heel digging into his butt as you writhe beneath him.

“There you go, sweet girl,” he beams at you, watching as your face twists in pleasure; lips swollen with all the kissing, eyes shut and lashes kissing your cheeks, “I’m so close…”

“Inside,” you open your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand while caressing his face, “Come inside me, Michael.”

“Fuck, fuck—“ he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you a few more times before he begins to tremble, biting down on the skin of your neck as he comes, his cock twitching inside you, filling you up to the brim.

He comes for an embarrassingly — in his opinion — long time, just holding you close and panting into your skin while he shoots thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

You pull him down until he rests the majority of his weight on you. You have to force him, though, because he thinks it would hurt your bruises and put you in pain, but his weight grounds you.

The proximity makes his head spin in warmth, but you can feel how worried he is, so you don’t keep him caged on top of you, allowing him to pull away until he can get a better look at your body.

“Please be careful next time,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the large bruise on your collarbone, then the one on your arm, then lower on the side of your stomach, “Or better, I keep you locked up so I know you’re safe.”

“You can’t even get me locked up in a surgery, good luck with doing it for the rest of my life,” you chuckle, thanking him when he helps you sit up.

“I think I need another shower,” he says, standing up, naked as the day he was born, before he turns to you, extending his hand for you to take, “Care to join me?”

“You’re far too horny for your age, Dr. Robby,” you tease him, but take him on his offer nevertheless, resting your weight on his arm as he slowly helps you limp to the bathroom.

“I’m not old,” he scowls, and you laugh at his little frown, smoothing a finger between his brows, “but no, I don’t wanna have sex, I just wanna hold you, sweet girl.”

“Nothing is stopping you, my love.”

#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavich x reader #dr robby smut #jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby fanfiction #dr robby fic #dr robby x you #the pitt x reader #robby robinavitch

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airconditioningbob · 2 years ago

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woo baby getting back into the swing of things with programming let's go

#but i'm doing it in another language so i'm rewriting the entire codebase #d has been very nice so far #c++ without the uggies #programming #ramblings

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vesperaink · 2 years ago

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i'm making a neocities rn and like programming in HTML feels like coming home, easy coding how I've missed you <3

#a welcome break from the horrors (college cs)#html was my first “real” programming language so coming back to it is like :D #vhispers into the void

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staff · 1 year ago

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We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world?

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism.

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

#we asked an expert #markscherz #frog #herpetology

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teachsector · 1 year ago

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#D Programming Language

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

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DCXDP fanfic idea: A Pen Pal's Duty

It starts off with a single letter.

Danny has always heard about pen pals through TV programs, but Amity Park was too small to participate in exchange programs, including passing letters. It was a concept that was all Hollywood to him.

He figured it was also one of those dying practices, and someday, no one would bother writing letters, especially with the increased paranoia of speaking to strangers that overtakes the country after people start figuring out the more likely kidnapping tactics that criminals use.

Not to mention the increase in scams. No one even answers a phone number they don't recognize anymore. Pen Pals just becomes a pipe dream.

Then, he becomes a hallfa with access to infinite worlds. Each is set in different time frames, locations, and languages. He figures that he could become a pen pal with one of them, and goes home to write the perfect first letter. He even calls in favor of one of the universe's most powerful beings, Ghostwriter, who can affect the fabric of the universe just so the man can write an epic poem centered around a mailbox.

This mailbox would connect their worlds but not allow travel, as the living can not enter the Realms. Ghostwriter is beside himself, claiming the symbolism of longing, of friendships transcending life and death, and of the power of the written word to connect worlds was too grand of a writing prompt for him not to do.

Danny stops listening after a moment, his eyes glazed over just like whenever Mr. Lancer talks about class readings. Eventually, the ghost has his mailbox set to station itself as soon as someone attempts to write back to Danny. He even wrote in a clause that allowed whoever became his pen pal to understand English the second they touched the letter.

Danny would gain the same knowledge once their fated pen pal wrote them back. Apparently, Ghostwriter wanted it to be a "chosen one" trope.

He told Danny to fly around the Infinite Realms, select a door, and let lose his introduction letter so that his powers could lead the letter to where it had to go.

Danny flies around for a while, trying to pick a world to throw his letter in, and eventually selects the one that seems almost crystalized were it not for the lines of technology he can see running through it.

He had written his letter as if though he had always been Phantom. The reason was that Danny didn't want whoever his pen pal-to-be to find out about Halfas, due to first-hand experience of what people did when finding rare beings such as he and Vlad.

Plus, Danny was also raised on the "Don't talk to strangers. Don't open the door if home alone. Don't tell anyone where he lived or what his age is online" ideals of his generation.

He was comforted by the fact that Ghostwriter could only pass along written scripture, and thus, the pen pals could not share photos or videos.

He opened the door, staring into the swirling green of the portal, and threw in his letter. To keep his identity further hidden behind Phantom, he made it seem like he could not cross into the living world either and thus could not entirely open the door himself.

A few days go by before Danny suddenly gets a Ding sound goes off in his head, letting him know someone has responded. It's torture waiting for the final bell to right, but the minute it does, Danny is racing out of school towards the Ghost Zone portal as fast as his human legs can take him.

He flies as fast as he can as Phantom- which is very fast. He just topped his latest speed at 300 mph- and found the same crystallized door. Outside of it, now flouts a glowing mailbox with the words D. Phantom inked on the side. A little red flag is raised, letting him know a delivery has arrived. Ghostwriter's symbol is also flouting near the box, letting other ghosts know not to touch it.

Once again, Ghostwriter has a reputation in the Infinite Realsm: there was a reason it took all the willing ghosts on Truce Day to help Danny take him down.

Feeling giggly, Danny pulls open the lid and finds a blank envelope inside. He rips it open at once, for a second not able to understand the writing, until a soft type writer sound echoes behind his ears, and suddenly he can read it.

Dear Phantom,

My name is Jor-El of planet Krypton. I was delighted to be the one to find your letter, and I hope we can become great friends. I am fourteen years old and dream of becoming a scientist who can help my people. Maybe when I become a successful scientist, I can even invent a way to travel to the home planet you hailed from when you were alive. I am already searching for Earth in my skies.

A friendship is born. Over the years, Jor and Danny trade many letters. They learn everything about each other, from Phantom's battles to Jor's crush on Lara. They advise each other where they can, trading ideas of inventions and research.

Jor makes a compiled file of his planet's culture and technology, eager to show Danny everything about Krypton while Danny does his best to do the same about Earth and the Realms. Danny's decision to be only Phantom with Jor can be a little hard to maneuver, but he makes it work by explaining he came to form in the Ghost Zone- technically not a lie- and all ghosts created in the zone can and will age.

Danny is even one of Jor's honorary stone bearers at his and Lara's wedding, while Danny names a few of his inventions after the house El.

Then, sometime after Jor's son is born, tragedy strikes. Danny had noticed that his friend's letters had slowed down, but he figured it was primarily due to being a new father and getting a high-paying position in his dream field. Danny's adult life was just as hectic as he was a department head at NASA's research and engineering department.

He could barely find time to visit family, let alone date around. Sam and he broke up in junior year but remained close friends. Danny dated around in college but really buckled down to focus on his career the closer he got to NASA. He had no idea how Jor was able to balance everything when he was working in Krypton's version of NASA.

He should have checked.

By the time he got Jor's newest letter, Danny had realized too late it would be his friend's final one. Jor had discovered his sun was exploding, and although he tried his best to save his planet, no one believed him until it was too late.

Thus, he focused all his energy and resources on creating two escape pods strong enough to escape the sun's gravitational pull. It wouldn't be large enough to see his whole family, but his son and niece could live. Jor wasn't sure if his escape rockets would even work, but he did not have time or the means to test them.

He just did his best with his brother's help to save their children and set the coordinates for a planet that once housed a dear friend: Earth.

The letter ended with a final goodbye to Danny. After reading the letter, Danny attempted to open the door and fly to Jor's rescue, but when it swung open, all he saw was the other side of the zone. It was merely a floating doorway that led nowhere now.

The portal was gone because Krypton was gone. Danny's pen pal and friend of twenty years was no more.

A scream of angst rattled through the Infinite Realms as one of it's most potent members realized he was powerless against the circle of life.

He made a tough decision.

Devastated, he eventually visited Ghostwriter, asking if Kara and Kal had survived, and the writer let him know that Kal would land on that universe's earth in a week (Jor had been dead for four days.) while Kara was floating in space, frozen after a malfunction in her rocket's blast. Since they were apart if Ghostwriter's recorded story of the mailbox he would know that much.

Sadly, now that the letters between Danny and Jor would end, Ghostwriter would no longer know their tale. They were out of his influence.

Danny couldn't save his friend or planet, but he wasn't about to let the two children down.

"You realize to live in one universe, you must die in another?" Clockwork asks for the millionth time as Danny suits up his rocket, taking every letter he and Jor shared and any personal item he could fit. "The second I open a doorway to that world's earth, you officially die in this one? Your family and friends will grieve you. You will never see them again."

"I know," Danny whispers, sending Sam, Tucker, his parents, and his sister a silent apology. "But I have to do this. Can you make it look like an accident? One that doesn't put the blame of my death on anyone's feet but my own?"

"I'll design the scene like an explosion of one of your experiments gone wrong. No one will be to blame." Ghostwriter solemnly swears. His eyes gain a pitying light that Danny has recognized over the years. After all, the narrator knows one of his biggest secrets because he saw it the second he wrote that pen pal system. "You can not replace Jor-El with Kal-El."

"Of course, I can't," Danny laughs without humor, sealing up his rocket. He gives the two ghosts a sad smile. "I'm not in love with Kal."

Clockwork stares impassively before he turns and waves his staff. A portal opens up before Danny. "This will take you to the Earth five minutes before Kal lands. When you are ready, you may pass but know this Phantom. You can not return to the Realms."

Ghostwriter sighs, placing one hand on Danny's shoulder. "Love is one of history's greatest gifts and saddest tragedies. I look forward to your story being written out in your new home. Remember to live while you are there."

Danny smiles, pulling the writer into a hug and ignoring how he goes rigid. "Thank you for everything you've done over the years, Ghostwriter."

"Think nothing of it. You were a wonderful muse," The man whispers as Danny hops into his ship. He stands by Clockwork, who shifts into his elder form as Danny powers up his boat. His eyes show a sad look as he stares up at the man he watches grow until the ship vanishes through Clockwork's portal.

"Will he be alright?" He asks the time god.

"He will. I arranged for him to inherit a forgotten farm next to a kind couple. The Kents are more than happy to help an overwhelmed single father of two and will grow to become like a set of grandparents for Kara and Kal." Clockwork answers.

"That's not what I'm asking."

Clockwork hums. "Danny's has long ago accepted that Jor's heart was never his. His core knows it, and he's grown accustomed to the pain. But he will find peace on that Earth. He even finds a new love."

"Who?"

"Now, that would be telling. As a writer, you know it's best to let the story unfold than to give it all away." Clockwork twirls his staff "But know his adoptive son and daughter are less than pleased with a Gotham Butler."

Ghostwriter blinks. "What does that mean?"

"It means Danny will have to dodge some overly protective bats. Now then, could you tell me about your latest work? It's been a long time since I enjoyed a good story."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #part 1 #A Pen Pal's Duty #One-sided Danny Fenton/ Jor-El #Pre-Alfred/Danny #Danny is Clark's adoptive dad #Danny is Kara's adoptive dad #Thier first launage is Krytoian since Danny learned it #Superman and Superwoman happen but Kara is older then Clark #Bruce and his kids lowkey hate Danny #Jor never knew of Danny's feelings

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augustjoy · 5 months ago

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Corruption

Based on the following ask: Aaron with the youngest and newest member of the bau, taking her virginity in his office after hours, corrupting her in the most unprofessional way but praising her for being such a quick learner – I kind of went genius, girly-girl, virgin reader…but enjoy!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1772

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is early 20’s), explicit language, virgin reader, she’s also a genius and kind of a girly-girl, naïve reader, slight d/s dynamic, soft dom Hotch, corruption kink, lots of praise, use of sir, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

It wasn’t the right time. That is what you said, time and time again, but then the right time never really came. First it was the high school boys were all too immature, then the college guys are all too pushy and unserious…and let’s face it, the guys in the FBI academy, well they were all too horny and desperate. So, you put all your focus into your studies and hard work. Who needed sex when you were achieving success at such a young age.

You were the youngest ever agent to join the BAU, even more so than Spencer. You’d been so motivated in school that you had dual majored during both your bachelor’s and master’s programs, finishing them in record time and completing your PHD while in the academy.

When you sauntered into Aaron’s office that day, trailing behind the director, he thought perhaps you were Cruz’s new assistant. With your tight little skirt and your long-painted nails, there was no way a sweet thing like you could be his new field agent.

Until you were.

“Hotchner, here is your latest recruit!” Cruz announced. “Be nice, she’s here to stay.”

You stepped forward and offered your hand to shake, quietly introducing yourself. Aaron took your hand, shaking it firmly before releasing it and gesturing for you to take a seat.

“You’re not at all what I was expecting.” He began.

“I hear that a lot. I don’t think people expect someone as accomplished as me to look this way.” You shift your gaze downward.

“How do you mean?” Aaron inquired.

“I just mean, I think people expect me to be a stereotypical nerd, seeing as I put my education first for so long. I don’t think they expect me to have put so much effort into my appearance as well.” You shrug.

Aaron was rendered speechless. You were right, when he had seen your long list of accomplishments, he was picturing someone a little more like Reid. Not a bombshell in a light pink blouse, tight skirt, heels and long pink fingernails.

And thus began Aaron babying you. He did everything in his power to keep you safe…which was becoming increasingly difficult as you continued to prove how qualified you were for this team.

He had been devastated when you’d been hurt the first time. It had been a slash of a knife to the shoulder, you’d ducked just in time to avoid your face. Aaron had been quick and pretty rough when taking that particular unsub down.

So, you see, it had been months like this and while…things were good, Aaron was overbearing, you were more than capable of holding your own and you didn’t understand why he was treating you this way.

That’s why you confronted him.

“Okay Hotch, what’s your problem?” You asked, entering his office unannounced.

“Excuse me?” He questioned you as you closed the door behind you and made yourself comfortable in the chair across from him.

“You know full well that I am capable of doing this job, so why do you purposefully hold me back?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to protect you.” He justified.

“I don’t need you to protect me though.” You huffed.

“The fact that you think that only proves how innocent you are.”

“I – I’m not innocent.” You shook your head.

Aaron clicked his tongue, standing to walk behind you, letting his hands graze your shoulders gently. He leaned down, his warm breath hugging the shell of your ear, whispering.

“I think you are…but you don’t want to be.”

You shivered, leaning into his touch. “I don’t.” You breathed.

“You want to be bad, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You gasped.

“Then be bad sweetheart.”

Aaron walked over to ensure the bullpen was clear. He then locked his office door and pulled the blinds closed. He returned to his seat behind his desk, sitting and then wiggling his finger at you, signaling for you to come to him.

You stood and tentatively made your way around his desk, stopping just short of being in front of him. He took your hand and gently pulled you to stand between his legs. His hands slid down your sides, stopping at the outer part of your knees, tapping softly.

You looked at him with confusion…unsure of what it was he was asking you. Your confusion was answered when you saw the look in his eyes. You slowly dropped to your knees, your palms resting on his thighs.

“God, you’re like a vision. So sweet, on your knees for me.” Aaron caressed your cheek.

You reached for his belt, pulling it open, while he let his hand tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his pupils were blown, full of lust. He let his thumb slip into your mouth, groaning at the sight of you.

You continued to work his dress slacks open, desperately trying to free his cock now. You were more than ready to have him in your mouth…but your nerves began to creep in. Aaron, ever the profiler, knew immediately.

“You’re doing great baby. I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry.”

You wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely out of reach of your thumb. As if that wasn’t enough, his length was quite shocking as well. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but you wanted to try.

“What if I…I mean – I want to be good.” You stuttered. “For you.”

Aaron groaned “You’re going to be amazing, sweet girl. Just start slow, it’ll come naturally.”

So, you did. Hesitantly at first, taking just his tip in your mouth, then moving down little by little. And judging by the sounds Aaron was making, you knew you were doing okay. You continued bobbing your head up and down, hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip, letting Aaron’s grunts drive your movements.

Aaron gently pulls you off of him, helping you back to your feet before lifting you onto his desk. He stood, invading your space, your gaze shifts upwards to meet his…you just knew you looked completely wrecked for him.

Aaron leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He nipped at your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek and the other sliding under your skirt.

It wasn’t until his fingers grazed the front of your panties that you whined, practically begging for him to do more.

“Please…”

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please sir. Touch me.” You huffed.

Aaron groaned at the name and allowed his fingers to move passed your panties, pressing them through your slick folds. Your hands moved behind you, palms down, holding yourself up. Your head fell back and before long, Aaron’s fingers were thrusting into you. He kept a steady pace, not wanting to work you up too much before he got the chance to fuck you.

“Ugh, God yes. I-it feels s-so good.” You moaned.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me. Take it like a good girl.” He praised.

Your hips were chasing his every thrust, begging for your release. He pressed further, the heel of his palm adding a delicious pressure to your clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge.

“Please Aaron, I’m so close.” You begged.

“Not yet sweet girl, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” He nipped your earlobe.

Aaron pulled his fingers from your heat, taking a step back, he pulled you with him and spun you around, pressing your front into his desk. His hands slid under your skirt and pulled your panties down.

“Aaron…I-I’ve never done this before.”

“I know baby girl, it’s okay. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

You arched back into his touch; your body was shaking with anticipation. Aaron leaned down and pressed a kiss to your shoulder before he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

“You ready for me honey?”

“God yes.”

With that, he pressed forward, fully sliding his cock into you. You cried out and he did his best to soothe you, wiping the tear from your cheek. His movement caused you to let out a sharp hiss.

“You alright sweetheart?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to grab at any part of him you could reach. He placed his hand into your grasp and held still, wanting to let you adjust to him properly. After a few moments, you pressed yourself back, testing the waters to see if the pain had subsided. Aaron quickly caught on to your motion and all hell broke loose.

Aaron’s hips snapped into yours over and over, he had your arms pinned behind you as he held you down against his desk for leverage. You were a mess beneath him, tears and mascara running down your face, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your hair fallen completely out of your neat hairstyle. Deep grunts and soft cries filled the room as you both neared your peak. He had you falling apart completely, surely ruining you for any other man.

“It’s like this pussy was made for me sweetheart; she’s gripping me so tight.”

“Oh my god Aaron, I-I think, I’m close.” You cried.

“That’s it honey, cum for me.”

Your orgasm took over as your entire body shook. Your screams could be heard all throughout the office. Aaron shifted his hands, so they gripped your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing his end.

With a few final thrusts, Aaron let out a low growl, filling you with his hot seed. You could feel it dripping out of you with every lazy thrust. When he finally stilled, he leaned down over you, pressing kisses to your neck, whispering praise of how well you did for your first time and how he couldn’t wait to ruin you again and again.

Aaron slipped out of you with a hiss and tucked himself back into his slacks. He pulled you up and turned you around, helping you back into your panties and pressing his hand to your core.

“I want you to hold it in sweet girl. Because when I get you home, I’m gonna fuck it back into you.” He pressed his lips to yours once more.

You met him with the same amount of passion, only pulling away when he did.

“So…what does this mean?” Your glassy eyes met his.

“You’re mine baby. Forever.”

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

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foone · 7 months ago

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So a cool thing my granddad* Alan Turing figured out is Turing Equivalence:

Basically he designed a super simple hypothetical computer, and proved mathematically that it can do everything a more complicated computer can do, just maybe slower or faster.

This is normally brought up for the factoid that could run Doom on Xty Million Crabs, but it also applies to programming languages, not just computers.

See, it means that every programming language is equally "powerful", assuming it's Turing Complete (which is basically just "can do the things this minimal computer can do", which is basically every language except a couple simple theming languages and macro scripting systems), it's just easier or harder to do specific things in a given language. But they can still be done.

So this means the C/C++ your OS and browser was written in is just as powerful as everything else. The Java used for Minecraft and Android phones, the Javascript used for webpages, the C# used Unity, the BASIC used on 80s computers, and DickCode, the joke programming language I made as a university student which had only eight operators, but all eight were different ascii penises a la "8==D".

All equally powerful. You could write an OS, video game, or AI bot in any of these. It just might be a little slower or faster and easier or harder to do (especially DickCode, that one is very Hard).

Aren't computers neat?

*not my actual granddad but I am named Turing

#computer science #computer shitposting #computer programming

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directactionforhope · 1 year ago

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"Starting this month [June 2024], thousands of young people will begin doing climate-related work around the West as part of a new service-based federal jobs program, the American Climate Corps, or ACC. The jobs they do will vary, from wildland firefighters and “lawn busters” to urban farm fellows and traditional ecological knowledge stewards. Some will work on food security or energy conservation in cities, while others will tackle invasive species and stream restoration on public land.

The Climate Corps was modeled on Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps, with the goal of eventually creating tens of thousands of jobs while simultaneously addressing the impacts of climate change.

Applications were released on Earth Day, and Maggie Thomas, President Joe Biden’s special assistant on climate, told High Country News that the program’s website has already had hundreds of thousands of views. Since its launch, nearly 250 jobs across the West have been posted, accounting for more than half of all the listed ACC positions.

“Obviously, the West is facing tremendous impacts of climate change,” Thomas said. “It’s changing faster than many other parts of the country. If you look at wildfire, if you look at extreme heat, there are so many impacts. I think that there’s a huge role for the American Climate Corps to be tackling those crises.”

Most of the current positions are staffed through state or nonprofit entities, such as the Montana Conservation Corps or Great Basin Institute, many of which work in partnership with federal agencies that manage public lands across the West. In New Mexico, for example, members of Conservation Legacy’s Ecological Monitoring Crew will help the Bureau of Land Management collect soil and vegetation data. In Oregon, young people will join the U.S. Department of Agriculture, working in firefighting, fuel reduction and timber management in national forests.

New jobs are being added regularly. Deadlines for summer positions have largely passed, but new postings for hundreds more positions are due later this year or on a rolling basis, such as the Working Lands Program, which is focused on “climate-smart agriculture.” ...

On the ACC website, applicants can sort jobs by state, work environment and focus area, such as “Indigenous knowledge reclamation” or “food waste reduction.” Job descriptions include an hourly pay equivalent — some corps jobs pay weekly or term-based stipends instead of an hourly wage — and benefits. The site is fairly user-friendly, in part owing to suggestions made by the young people who participated in the ACC listening sessions earlier this year...

The sessions helped determine other priorities as well, Thomas said, including creating good-paying jobs that could lead to long-term careers, as well as alignment with the president’s Justice40 initiative, which mandates that at least 40% of federal climate funds must go to marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by climate change and pollution.

High Country News found that 30% of jobs listed across the West have explicit justice and equity language, from affordable housing in low-income communities to Indigenous knowledge and cultural reclamation for Native youth...

While the administration aims for all positions to pay at least $15 an hour, the lowest-paid position in the West is currently listed at $11 an hour. Benefits also vary widely, though most include an education benefit, and, in some cases, health care, child care and housing.

All corps members will have access to pre-apprenticeship curriculum through the North America’s Building Trades Union. Matthew Mayers, director of the Green Workers Alliance, called this an important step for young people who want to pursue union jobs in renewable energy. Some members will also be eligible for the federal pathways program, which was recently expanded to increase opportunities for permanent positions in the federal government...

“To think that there will be young people in every community across the country working on climate solutions and really being equipped with the tools they need to succeed in the workforce of the future,” Thomas said, “to me, that is going to be an incredible thing to see.”"

-via High Country News, June 6, 2024

Note: You can browse Climate Corps job postings here, on the Climate Corps website. There are currently 314 jobs posted at time of writing!

Also, it says the goal is to pay at least $15 an hour for all jobs (not 100% meeting that goal rn), but lots of postings pay higher than that, including some over $20/hour!!

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bloodandiron-if · 20 days ago

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DEMO (TBA) | FORUM (TBA) | CHARACTER INTROS (TBA)

BLOOD AND IRON is a compelling and mature action IF made for an adult audience. This story includes content that some may find disturbing, such as explicit language, mentions of child trafficking, abuse, psychological stress, homophobia, intense violence, death, gore, and much more.

Inspired by John Wick, Ninja Assassin, The Punisher, and The Equalizer.

Chicago bleeds quietly these days. Not in the headlines, but in basements, behind unmarked doors, in the flicker of broken streetlamps, no proper badge patrols.

The world didn’t ask if you were ready. It just kept turning and grinding down the soft parts until only the sharp edges remained.

Raised in a hidden facility outside Chicago, you were one of many children—an experiment in obedience, efficiency, and silence. They didn’t call it a home. They called it a program. And you survived it.

Barely.

They stripped your name. Trained your body. Broke your will—until they didn’t.

You escaped.

The world didn’t know what to do with you.

But he did—the man who saved you. He gave you a name. A cover. A second chance dressed up as a normal life.

By day, you pass for normal. A name. A job. A face in the crowd. By night, you clean up what the system leaves to rot—organ rings, human traffickers, killers protected by rank or money.

But this isn’t justice. It’s personal.

You’re digging through the filth of this city, tearing up every buried secret, because somewhere beneath it all lies the truth.The facility. The man who ran it. Whitaker.

He’s not on any official record. The place that broke you doesn’t exist on paper. But you remember the rooms. The drills. The screaming. The numbers burned into your skin like a barcode.

Every body you drop might be connected. Every whisper might lead back to him.

You’re not a hero.

You’re a survivor searching for the ghost of the man who made you—and the trail of blood he left behind.

And the closer you get, the more unstable everything becomes—your past, your purpose, his goal.

You can follow orders. Break free. Burn it all down. But one question echoes through every silence:

Who will you become when you finally reach the end?

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Define who you are beyond the number—whether you seek connection, crave freedom, or walk alone.

Be straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, aromantic, or asexual.

Establish your cover identity—first and last name. C-4 doesn’t exist outside the wire.

Explore Chicago in the 90s.

Experience flashbacks of your harrowing and unforgiving childhood at the facility.

Define your body and presence with scars, tattoos and more, including flavour stats that affect immersion and narrative tone.

Choose your ride, customize it, and leave your mark in burnt rubber and broken taillights. Whether it’s a snarling muscle car, a rumbling motorcycle, a rugged Jeep, or a heavy-duty pickup, you’ll be behind the wheel.

Choose your physical appearance, build and height—whether towering and lithe, or compact and deadly.

Meet six ROs, each with their own storylines, layered personalities, and emotional arcs that evolve with your choices. It’s up to you to decide how the story unfolds: as allies, enemies, or even the possibility of something more.

Get ready for action. This story pulls no punches—literally. You’ll be thrown headfirst into brutal gunfights, savage fistfights, high-speed car chases, and close-quarters takedowns.

Define your personality through detailed flavour choices: are you brutal or merciful, stoic or emotional, cautious or impulsive, friendly or rude?

Navigate the grim underworld of adulthood: surveillance, corruption, organized crime, and the scars of memory.

Shape your legacy in a world that tried to erase your humanity.

D-6 (RO)

Age: 24 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: Korean-American Vibe: Ghost of the past. Loyalty carved from trauma. Quiet intensity.

The Operative — the life you left behind, still trying to follow you home.

D-6 is a shadow stitched to your childhood, moving with a precision that speaks louder than words ever could. They don’t flinch, don’t blink, and rarely break eye contact—yet there’s no threat in it. Just memory. Just calculation. The facility shaped them like it shaped you, but where you ran, they stayed. Hardened. Refined. Perfected into something cold and frighteningly still.

They barely speak, but understand everything. Loyal not by choice, but by conditioning—yet something in their gaze suggests the cracks are forming.

Whether D-6 is here to kill you, bring you back or break away with you… even they haven’t decided. But they’ve always been watching. And they never forget.

Detective Juno Reyes (RO)

Age: 33 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: Puerto Rican-American Vibe: Gravely moral. Sharp-jawed justice. Righteous conflict.

The Detective — your ideological foil, and mirror of what you could have been with a badge instead of a body count.

Detective Juno Reyes walks like they carry the whole city on their shoulders, and maybe they do. Every crime scene clings to their coat, every unsolved case etched into the set of their jaw. They believe in justice, not the easy kind, but the kind that scrapes its knuckles bloody. The kind that keeps them up at night because they still think it matters.

Juno doesn’t trust you. Maybe they never will. But they understand you in the way only someone on the other side of the line can.

Where you cut through the rot with a blade, they try to dig it out with a badge. Righteous, relentless, and furious with the system that fails people like you, and maybe even with themselves for not walking away from it.

Nico/Nia Russo (RO)

Age: 22 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: Italian-American Vibe: Snark-as-armour. Trash-mouth tendencies. Hot grease and soft heart.

The Co-worker — the one who has their worst days, yet still shows up.

Russo talks like the world owes them a fistfight and a cigarette break. All bite, all bark, and just enough burn to keep people at arm’s length. They’ve got grease on their apron, a permanent chip on their shoulder, and a mouth that never learned the word “filter.” You’re not sure they even like the job, but they’re here, day after day, late at times, but constantly grinding out those shifts like it's a special part of their routine.

They’re also halfway through a criminal justice degree at a city college they never talk about unless they’re arguing with the news playing in the background. Claims it’s all bullshit—cops, lawyers, the system. But you’ve caught Russo studying case law in the backroom between deliveries. Says it’s for the credits, but the way their jaw tightens during certain stories on the news? It’s more than that.

They're not just pissed off. They’re paying attention.

Kieran/Kira Myles (RO)

Age: 27 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: Half White, Half Mexican-American Vibe: Fragrance, coded language, and too many knives hidden in tailored jackets

The Interloper — the one who wasn’t supposed to be on your radar—but is.

Myles moves through rooms like a whispered secret and the scent of money—sharp, intentional, impossible to ignore. Head high, steps measured, eyes always calculating. They speak in layers, smile in puzzles, and dress like they’re late for a gala or an ambush, maybe both. Everything about them feels curated, controlled… until it isn’t.

You don’t know what they want, not really.

One minute it’s intel, the next it’s something softer, more dangerous.

Myles wasn't part of your mission. Not part of your world. But now they’re in it, circling closer, asking questions with too much knowledge behind the eyes. You're not sure if they’re here to ruin you, or to remind you there’s still something left worth ruining.

Alex/Alexi Monroe (RO)

Age: 25 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: Scandanavian-American Vibe: Softness meets suspicion. The light in the hallway. The warmth in the cold

The Neighbor — the one who sees past the walls and doesn’t look away.

Monroe lives two doors down and leaves their window open when it rains. They laugh too loudly at sitcom reruns, forget to water their plants, and hum under their breath while waiting for the kettle to boil. On the surface: harmless. Gentle. The kind of softness you’d expect to break easy.

But there’s something behind the smile—something watchful—subtly. Thoughtfully. The way someone does when they’re used to reading what isn’t said.

Monroe doesn't pry. They just linger. Just look a little too long sometimes, like they’re trying to put a puzzle together without knowing what the picture is.

And worse, they still smile at you anyway.

Rowan/Rhea Carter (RO)

Age: 29 Gender: Player-selectable (M/F) Nationality/Ethnicity: African-American Vibe: Revolutionary soul. Firebrand idealism. Beautiful, dangerous hope.

The Crusader — the one who wants to save the world, even if it means breaking it.

Carter speaks like every word could spark a revolution, and maybe it could, if they weren’t already carrying the weight of too many failed ones. There’s something magnetic in the way they move through a room, controlled chaos, dressed in confidence and defiance. Their voice carries conviction like heat, and they never seem to doubt it. Not publicly, at least.

They believe in something bigger. In justice. In tearing down the structures that rot people from the inside out. It’s not naive, what they preach, it’s dangerous. The kind of hope that gets people killed. The kind that inspires others to follow anyway.

Carter sees what’s broken and doesn't look away. They demand change, even if it has to be carved from ruin. That makes them dangerous. That makes them rare.

And when they look at you, it’s like they see the potential for something more, something bigger than just blood and vengeance. But whether that makes you want to run toward them or burn everything down before they get too close… that’s up to you.

Elijah Creed

Age: 44 Gender: Male Nationality/Ethnicity: Irish-American Vibe: Cigars, classical music, hollow warmth. That voice that makes monsters feel like myths.

The Father — the one who gave you a name, a roof, and a purpose.

Elijah Creed moves through the world like a man carrying both a lifetime of regrets and the weight of unshakable resolve. There’s a quiet authority in his voice, calm, deliberate, the kind that can soothe storms or summon lightning. His days are marked by the scent of cigars and the soft notes of classical music drifting through the rooms of the house you guys used to share.

He’s not just a guardian, he’s the father you never truly had, the one who took you in when the world wanted to erase you. Behind that steady warmth lies a steel core, forged by loss and haunted by the past. Elijah gave you a name, a place to belong, and a reason to fight, but never illusions that the world outside is anything less than brutal.

He is both shelter and shadow, a man who knows the cost of survival—and who will make sure you never pay it alone.

Ms. Claudia Bellamy

Age: 49 Gender: Female Nationality/Ethnicity: American (Afro-Puerto Rican) Vibe: Gold hoops, chipped nail polish, a cigarette always halfway gone. Keeps a revolver in her sewing kit and a bottle of gin under the sink.

The Landlord — the building’s backbone, eyes, and occasional judge, jury, and babysitter.

Ms. Bellamy has lived in the building longer than the cockroaches, and even they know better than to cross her. Her voice rarely rises, but when it does, even the radiators stop rattling. Always in gold hoops and a housecoat with yesterday’s cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray, she moves like someone who’s already seen the worst and didn’t flinch.

She doesn’t run the building. She rules it, half landlady, half neighbourhood matriarch. Rent better be on time, the hallways better stay quiet, and no one better mess with the kid on the second floor unless they want a lecture followed by a left hook.

She calls your new name like it’s your real one, sees through lies like smoke through sunlight, and keeps a .38 tucked behind the cans of beans in her pantry. Whatever history she has, it walks with her, but she’ll never speak of it unless the city starts burning again. And even then, only maybe.

Salvatore “Sal” Russo

Age: 47 Gender: Male Nationality/Ethnicity: Italian-American Vibe: Loud shirt, louder laugh. The kind of man who sings to the tomato sauce and cries at baseball games.

The Pizza King — a local legend with marinara in his veins and a heart too big for this city.

Salvatore Russo isn’t just the owner of the pizza shop—he is the pizza shop. Grease-stained apron, gold chain bouncing with every belly laugh, and a voice that could carry through a riot. He talks with his hands, loves like he’s got something to prove, and swears every pie has a soul.

To the neighborhood, he’s an uncle. To his niece/nephew, he’s a safety net and a headache. And to you? He’s the rare kind of man who doesn’t ask questions he doesn’t want the answers to, so long as you show up, work hard, and don’t scare the regulars.

Somehow, Sal always knows when to push, and when to just slide you a slice and say nothing at all, but could all the smile and laughter be hiding a deeper truth than what's shown on the surface?

Wheels

Age: 36 Gender: Male Nationality/Ethnicity: Polish-American Vibe: Motor oil and Marlboro smoke. Burnt fingers. Mismatched socks stuffed into combat boots. A man who can hotwire your car with a bottle cap and grudge.

The Arms Dealer — your supplier and the only man in Chicago who listens to Public Enemy while cleaning an M4.

Wheels moves through the city like a ghost with a purpose—fast, sharp, and unpredictable. He’s not just an arms dealer; he’s a craftsman, a collector of weapons with stories carved into their blades. Among his prized possessions are three custom knives, each named after people who shaped his life, two exes who taught him lessons in pain and betrayal, and one for his mother, the only person he never wanted to disappoint.

His sharp gaze misses nothing, always sizing up threats and opportunities with cold precision. Reliable when it counts, Wheels plays the game on his own terms, offering more than just firepower, he’s a lifeline in a city drowning in chaos, but one that carries a warning: trust him carefully, or not at all.

Dr. Silas Cross

Age: 55 Gender: Male Nationality/Ethnicity: Lebanese-American Vibe: Tailored suits under his lab coat. Surgical gloves and bourbon. The hum of high-end equipment beneath the jazz playing low through recessed speakers.

The Surgeon — not your friend, not your enemy, just the man who keeps you stitched together.

Dr. Cross is not the kind of man you thank.

You show up bleeding, broken, maybe dying, and he fixes you anyway. No questions. No judgment. Just the quiet clink of surgical tools and the faint smell of antiseptic layered beneath expensive cologne. His clinic hides behind the façade of a luxury med spa, but the back rooms tell a different story. Marble floors, climate control, and machines that hum like symphonies, because pain, here, is handled with elegance.

He wears tailored suits under his lab coat, pours bourbon like it’s medicine, and plays Coltrane through speakers you’ll never find. Every stitch comes with an unspoken rule: you don’t ask about him, and he doesn’t ask about you. His price is steep, but he’s the reason a dozen corpses aren’t yours.

He’s not your friend. Not your savior. He’s the man who puts you back together because it’s the only thing he still knows how to do.

Reese

Age: 12 Gender: Male Nationality/Ethnicity: African-American Vibe: Scuffed sneakers. Sharp eyes. A heart still intact—but only barely.

The Kid — street-smart pickpocket and your stubborn follower.

Reese has a grin too big for someone who’s had to survive this much.

He moves like he owns the sidewalk, dodging adults, snatching wallets, slipping through crowds like smoke. Every scrape on his knees and tear in his hoodie tells a story, and most of them end with him outrunning someone bigger. Or meaner. Or both. But behind all the swagger and mouthiness, there’s a kid who still believes in something. Maybe not people. But moments. Mercy. Second chances.

Reese follows you like a stray cat that decided you were home. Doesn’t care how cold you get, how many times you warn him off. You’re a ghost in a city full of monsters, and somehow, he’s decided you’re one of the better ones. Maybe the only one.

He’s smart enough to know what you are.

But young enough to believe that doesn’t have to be the end of it.

TBA.

Taggings: @interact-if, @interactive-fiction-recs-for-you

#bloodandiron-if #interactive fiction #interactive story #choice of games #wip game #if wip #action #choicescript #choose your own adventure #cyoa #interactive novel #cog #action if #hosted games #wip #status: no demo #text game #if: intro #interact-if

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harrywavycurly · 3 months ago

Text

Glitch: Does She Know?

Masterlist: Here

CW: mentions of drinking, manipulation in the form of Jeff pre programming you and minor language.

A/N: I am excited to get this series going and see how y’all like it! It’s going to be a good mix of drama/angst and fluff so enjoy! Oh and you might not like Jeff in this series and that’s okay💓

Tag List: @alicivava @cosmicneptune @daphnesutton @valeriiyuhh @drewrry @obsessiveenthusiast @me-undiscovered @psicostyles @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @harryscherries28 @blckburd @harry2121 @cevans-winchester @prettygurl-2009

Summary: Jeff thinks it’s time to try to get Harry back in the studio💓

Six years, that’s how long it’s been since Jeff has seen Harry do anything remotely close to stepping foot in a studio and in his opinion that’s about five years too long for the world to go without new music from one of it’s bestselling artists. Now it’s not that Harry hasn’t been busy because he has, he’s been dipping his toes in the fashion pond and enjoying doing collaborations with his favorite fashion houses, he’s been working behind the scenes for his own personal brands and honestly he’s just been relishing in his time away from the chaos that often times comes hand in hand with releasing new music into the world. He’s still an artist and finds himself scribbling little lines here and there that he thinks could fit into a melody he has playing in his head but nothing seems to be making him have to rush to the studio to get the words out of his brain before they threaten to take over his life like he’s done for previous albums, and that’s what is starting to concern Jeff.

Jeff is worried that Harry has started to lose his spark, or to put it more plainly he just simply doesn’t have the desire he once had to put songs out into the universe that make people feel things and Jeff thinks he knows exactly what’s causing this decline in inspiration, Harry isn’t in love with anyone. He doesn’t know why Harry works so well while in love or at least while infatuated with someone but it’s what works for him and over the last few years that’s the one thing Harry hasn’t bothered with. He doesn’t seem interested at all in finding love or even pursing anyone for more than a two week long fling that ends with nothing more than maybe a poem or two Harry jots down in his private journal that Jeff can’t do anything with because Harry would murder him if he even insinuated turning his private journal into something for profit. It’s not that Jeff is only wanting to see Harry in the studio again because he knows with it comes a good bit of money, no Jeff wants Harry in the studio again because he knows deep down his friend feels like a part of him is missing when he’s not being creative in that way and all Jeff wants to do is help one of his bestfriends feel whole again.

Or at least that’s what Jeff tells himself.

So that’s how Jeff finds himself standing in front of you, a companion bot that is designed for one thing only and that’s to help people feel understood on all levels needed to form a lasting connection that could potentially turn into deeper feelings such as love. He knows that the odds of you making a connection with Harry are high considering he went ahead and had them download a file into your main server that was nothing more than an info dump on the superstar himself. Including his likes and dislikes, his star sign, his normal day to day schedule and a variety of photos of him throughout his career dating all the way back to his X Factor audition. He will admit he might’ve went a little overboard on the Harry informational file but for what he spent on you he can’t risk you not at least making Harry want to go write a few heartbreakingly sad songs or love ballads after his encounter with you, however long of brief it may be since he’s not really sure how the two of you are going to get along seeing as he hasn’t even turned you on yet.

“So how do I turn her on?” Jeff asks the technician who is responsible for informing him of all your abilities and requirements as well as making sure Jeff signs all the dotted lines that will officially make you his bot.

“Oh one moment let me power her up.” Lance says with a smile as he taps away on his tablet and a few seconds later Jeff watches your eyes open and he takes a step back from where you’re sat in a loveseat in what you’ll soon realize is your living room.

“Good morning.” Your voice is softer than he imagined as you introduce yourself to him, your name being one he picked because he figured it would be one Harry would enjoy saying over and over again to himself like he’s done with past love interests.

“Uh good morning I’m Jeff.” You give him a smile as you reach your hand out for him to shake and it takes him a moment to finally find the courage to slide his hand into yours and when he does he’s shocked at how human like it feels. “She’s warm and-sweaty?” His words come out like a question as he turns his head towards Lance who is standing nearby tapping a few things on his tablet.

“Sorry I get a little nervous meeting new people.” You explain as you quickly take your hand out of Jeff’s grasp so you can place it in your lap.

“Don’t be shocked by the things she’s able to do. She’s just like a regular human. She sweats and-”

“Can she get wet?”

“Depends on if she’s attracted to you or not.”

“Not like that I mean can she shower and like go in the ocean?” Lance laughs and nods his head as he goes back to looking down at his tablet.

“Yeah man she can be fully submerged in water even salt water. She charges at night while she sleeps so she doesn’t need to be plugged in and her maintenance is only once every two years unless she feels sluggish then we can do a virtual assessment but other than that she’s good to go and yes she can even eat regular food and if she drinks too much she will get drunk.” You look from Lance over to Jeff who is staring at you with a bewildered expression on his face as if he can’t really believe what he’s hearing but you don’t let yourself dwell on why hearing you’re just like any other person would be so odd for him. Instead you choose to focus on if you’ll have time to paint your nails today as they look a little boring at the moment without any color on them.

“Does she know?” He asks as he tears his eyes away from you and turns to face the technician. Lance raises an eyebrow as he drops his hand that’s holding the tablet to his side with a sigh that has your head lifting up and your eyes glancing over to the two men.

“Does she know what?” He questions making Jeff roll his eyes as he leans in making it difficult for you to hear what he says next.

“Does she know she’s a robot and that I paid for her to-”

“Oh uhm no.” Lance answers in a whispered tone as his eyes glance over Jeff’s shoulder, he gives you a warm smile making you blush as you look back down at your lap. “She has no clue.” He explains making Jeff just nod and run a hand through his hair.

“Okay and what would happen if she found out? That she’s-”

“She won’t like explode or go evil or anything but uhm yeah she’d probably be a little upset so we always advise that if you do plan on telling them to do it up front or just don’t tell them at all and let them go about their lives thinking they are one of us.”

“Okay great.” You smile at Jeff as he turns around and looks over at you, this time you watch his eyes slowly roam over your form. It’s not completely uncomfortable, the way his eyes travel over your face and then down your neck to your shoulders, if anything you just hope he goes easy on your appearance seeing as it’s not even nine in the morning and you haven’t had your coffee yet.

“Do you mind standing up for me?” You nod and quickly do as he asks making him give you a soft smile. You swallow down the nerves that begin to creep up as he motions for you to turn around for him with his index finger, but when he doesn’t say anything and just nods in what you assume is approval you feel a small sense of relief wash over you.

“Her clothes are all unpacked as well as any other belongings she might need for the first week or so until she starts to have preferences about what she likes.” Lance explains to Jeff who is still subtly looking you over, you look down at your jean shorts and t shirt that lets a sliver of your torso be seen and you feel a weird sensation take over as if you for some reason no longer like the outfit you’re wearing even though you’re positive you’re the one who picked it out this morning.

“She doesn’t need me to tell her what to do all the time right?”

“Dude she’s not a Sim okay? She can take care of herself perfectly fine you set her intelligence level to,” Lance looks down at the tablet before looking back at Jeff. “slightly above average so don’t worry she won’t like burn the house down or anything. She’s fine.” Lance reassures him as he hands over the tablet so Jeff can begin signing the documents that will allow you to be left with him for good. “Just follow the prompts and sign on the dotted lines. Oh and be sure to read the important information PDF that we sent to your email earlier it will answer most of your questions.” Jeff just nods as he signs things while listening to Lance talk.

“Are you used to people buying these things for other purposes?” Jeff asks making Lance shrug as he looks over at where you’re standing in the living room with your hands in front of you as you look around the space.

“I mean rich people are usually the most freaky but who am I to judge? But be aware she can feel pain so yeah-she can also bruise.” Jeff’s eyes go wide as he hands the tablet back to Lance who takes it with a smile.

“I’m not-I don’t think you understand what-” Jeff stutters making Lance just hold his free hand up and shake his head.

“I don’t need to understand anything man I’m just here to drop her off.” With that Lance takes a few steps backwards and then turns on his heels so he’s facing the front door. “Nice meeting you!” You look up when Lance shouts your name over his shoulder, you give him a wave when he smiles at you before he opens the front door leaving you alone with Jeff.

“So I’m having a party tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d like to come? I could introduce you to some friends of mine if you’d like?” Jeff asks as he sits down on the small couch across from the loveseat making you follow his actions and sit back down in the loveseat you’ve been sitting in for most of the morning. He watches in amusement as your face lights up at the mention of a party and he smiles when you clap your hands in front of your chest with a grin.

“I’d love to come.” You say with a squeal of excitement that has Jeff noting that he might have to tweak a few things in your emotion settings because he doesn’t think this level of excitement over things like parties is going to rub Harry the right way. “Is there a theme or anything?” You ask making Jeff laugh and shake his head no.

“No theme just some friends getting together that’s all.” He answers making you nod as you start to mentally put together an outfit for it. “Uhm so do-do you like living here?” His question has your eyes narrowing for the briefest moment before you’re looking around and smiling as you realize you’re sitting in your living room, safe inside your house and not in some random stranger’s home.

“Oh yeah I love living here.” You tell him as you lift your hand and point towards your bedroom door that’s right off the living room. Jeff struggles to understand just how you know so much about your environment when you’ve only been awake in it for maybe an hour but he doesn’t question it he just smiles and lets you go on about how much you love your house.

“My bedroom gets really nice natural lighting I love it.” Jeff just nods as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and the small action makes him momentarily forget that underneath your pretty exterior is nothing more than a bunch of wires holding together a metal skeleton that’s controlled by a series of codes that he can semi control on an app on his phone.

“I’m glad you like it here.” You raise an eyebrow at him when he stands up and looks down at the watch on his wrist. “I have a lunch meeting with a friend and need to run a few errands first but I’ll send you the details about tomorrow okay?” You just nod as you stand up so you can walk him to the front door.

“Okay.”

“See you tomorrow.” Jeff feels his body go a bit stiff when you wrap your arms around him in a hug that you’re pulling away from before his brain can even try to register what was happening leaving him standing there awkwardly in your doorway.

“Have a good day Jeff.” You say with a smile and a wave as he blinks a few times before turning and walking down the short set of stairs to the sidewalk.

“You-you too.” Is all he manages to say before you close the door and head back into the living room leaving him standing on the sidewalk a little out of it. He lets out a puff of air from his lips as he runs a hand through his hair before sliding his sunglasses on and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Poor Harry he doesn’t stand a fucking chance against that.” Jeff mumbles to himself as he walks down the street towards his parked car.

“Since when did you start throwing parties on Wednesdays?” Harry asks as he looks at Jeff from across the table that’s tucked in the back of a cafe Harry has been frequenting lately. “Actually when did you start throwing parties at all? You hate people in your house.” Jeff rolls his eyes as he reaches for his glass of water while Harry sends him a questioning look as he rests his forearms on the table.

“I’m just in a party mood I guess?” He answers with a shrug making Harry narrow his eyes at him. “What? It’s just a party H you can come or you can stay home and be boring.”

“So there’s no special occasion or anything? You’re just-just throwing a party because you feel like it?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re up to something.” Jeff feels his hands get sweaty as Harry leans in across the table. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me so just-”

“I redid my backyard and want to show it off okay? Happy now? I sound like a seven year old little boy who’s inviting his friends over to see his new Lego set but that’s why I’m having the party.” Harry leans back in his chair as the little white lie comes out of Jeff’s mouth, because while he did actually redo his backyard, it was a year ago but Harry doesn’t know that.

“You want to show off your new backyard? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well okay then.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he reaches for his cup of tea. “I’ll be there. But I still think you’re up to something.” Harry shoots him a playful wink making Jeff just roll his eyes and brush his comment off as he takes a sip of his water.

“It’ll be fun trust me.”

“I mean it’s a party of course it’ll be fun.” Harry says with an almost smirk like smile that has Jeff wondering if maybe just maybe he knows what the real reason behind this party is but he shakes that idea out of his head because there’s no way Harry knows what his plan is because if he did he wouldn’t have agreed so easily.

You enjoy social settings, or at least you normally do but something about the way the people inside Jeff’s kitchen are staring at you as if you have a second head and four arms has you feeling like some sort of attraction meant to be looked and gawked at instead of just a party goer looking for another flute of champagne. It’s like they can see something about you that you can’t see yourself and it makes an uneasy feeling begin to stir in your stomach as you walk around the spacious kitchen and out the open sliding door towards the back yard. You smooth out the front of your dress as you take a few deep calming breaths while walking deeper into the dimly lit garden, when you come up to a fountain in the middle of a few poorly looked after rose bushes you take a seat on the stone bench in front of it.

“You know for a party all about his backyard it kinda looks like shit.” You jump as the hand that’s not clutching your champagne flute flies up to your chest as a deep voice comes from behind you. You hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath his shoes before you feel it, a soft hand on the top of your shoulder that has your head turning and looking up at the stranger that seemed to also seek refuge in the garden from the party happening inside. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” Even in the dim lighting you can see the deep emerald color of his eyes as they stare right into yours.

“It’s okay.” You say with a warm smile as a nagging feeling that you know the man that’s still staring at you starts to fester in the back of your mind.

“Uhm I’m,” You watch him blink once and then twice before he shakes his head and seems to be broken of whatever spell he was under causing a nervous sounding laugh to escape his lips. “I’m Harry.” He says as he extends the hand that was on your shoulder out for you to take, giving you a smile that makes you let your guard down just a little with how comforting it is.

“It’s nice to meet you Harry.” His smile only seems to grow into a full on grin as you introduce yourself and place your hand in his giving it a little shake. “Did you say this party is for his backyard?” You ask with a quirked brow as you look around at all the half dead bushes and fountain that doesn’t even have any water coming out of it.

“That’s what he told me at least.”

“Oh well then why are we the only ones out here?” Harry looks at you and then over his shoulder towards the house, and the people he can see through the floor to ceiling windows that take up most of the back of the house and it’s not until he shrugs his shoulders that he realizes he still has a hold of your hand.

“Because the people Jeff invited to this party aren’t exactly the stroll around the garden type of people.” He answers as his eyes land on your joined hands and it’s as if on queue you begin to run your thumb over his knuckles and when his eyes glance up to your face he can tell it’s something you’re not even aware that you’re doing because you’re not even looking at him you’re staring at the house with a far off look in your eyes.

“They remind me of how it feels when walking around a wall of old paintings.” Your voice is soft and flows at such an even pace it has Harry almost feeling like he’s in a trance of some sort. “That feeling of eyes on you and that sense of judgement that makes a shiver go down your spine because you know even if you meet their pointed looks they won’t ever tell you how they really feel about you but it’s not that you need them to tell you because it’s written all over their face.” Harry swallows thickly as you perfectly articulate the way he’s always felt during these stuffy industry parties and when you finally look back over at him you give him a comforting smile to go along with the gentle squeeze to his hand. “Forgive me the bubbles seem to have turned me into some sort of tortured poet.” You say with a laugh as you lift your half empty flute of champagne for him to see.

“No no it’s fine you’re-”

“There you two are.” Jeff’s voice has Harry dropping your hand as if he just got caught doing something horrible making your brows furrow as you watch his arm fall back to his side and the corners of your mouth tick downwards a bit as he tucks his hand into the pocket of his black slacks as if to hide the evidence of a crime.

“Yeah here we are.” You say as you put on a smile while standing up so you can face Jeff who is looking at Harry with a raised brow and a knowing look on his face and once again as you look over at Harry and allow yourself to take in his appearance, his cream and light blue short sleeve dress shirt letting you get an eye full of the ink scattered on his arms and his perfectly tousled hair that gives the allusion of it being how he looks when he rolls out of bed has you feeling that nagging sensation in the back of your mind as you try to pinpoint exactly where you know him from.

“The party is inside you know.” Jeff teases as Harry rolls his eyes and takes a step away from you and turns to face the house.

“That’s a bit odd though isn’t it? I mean considering this party is supposed to be about you showing off your backyard.” Harry states with a hint of annoyance in his tone that you immediately pick up on but Jeff either doesn’t notice or decides to ignore as he just laughs and gives Harry a shrug.

“What have you two been doing out here?” Jeff asks ignoring Harry’s statement entirely as he looks over at you with playful gleam in his eyes.

“Your roses are dead.” Harry bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing as you point towards the very dried up bush by your feet. “And your fountain is broken and your hydrangeas are beyond saving so whoever your gardener is I’d uhm well-I’d fire them.” You state bluntly before bringing your champagne up to your lips to take a sip while Jeff stands there with a half shocked and half amused expression on his face.

“Okay then.” Jeff says with a laugh as he looks around his garden that he knows could use some help. “Why don’t you take over then?” Harry looks at you as Jeff proposes his offer to you and when you roll your eyes he can tell it’s something you don’t do often as it only comes across as teasing and the tiniest bit adorable which is odd because he doesn’t know why he finds the simple action of you rolling your eyes at one of his closest friends adorable but he does.

“Me? Take over your garden?”

“It’s what you do for a living isn’t it? Landscape design and all that?” Jeff watches closely as your head tilts to the side ever so slightly and he knows now that’s your tell for when you’re mind is catching up to the world around you and letting you in on parts of yourself you haven’t learned yet like your job, the one Jeff hand picked for you out of a list of a thousand possible choices. He was sure to pick something that would make you seem nurturing and down to earth in Harry’s eyes without being too over the top and he also knows Harry’s soft spot for all things flowers.

“Well yes-yes it is but don’t you have someone already?” You question and Jeff just shrugs as he looks around his sad excuse of a garden.

“Yes but you said so yourself I should fire them.”

“Jeff are you seriously offering her a job in the middle of a party?”

“Yeah? Why not? My garden looks like-”

“Shit.” You blurt out remembering Harry’s earlier comment on how the backyard looked. This earns a laugh from both men making you smile as you take one last sip of your champagne and place the empty flute down on the bench in front of you.

“I’ll do it.” You state as you walk around the stone bench so you can reach your hand out for Jeff to take. “Now if you don’t mind I think I’m going to head home.” Harry feels a sense of sadness as he hears you say your goodbyes to Jeff as he gives your hand a shake sealing your deal of becoming his new landscape designer. “It was a lovely party thank you for inviting me.” You add with a smile making Jeff just nod and smile back as he lets go of your hand allowing you to begin heading off towards the back gate, wanting to avoid having to go inside the house at all costs.

“Let me walk you out.” Harry says as he rushes to catch up with you, not ready to be away from you just yet. “So how exactly do you know Jeff?” He asks once he’s next to you and your slow careful steps make him get the feeling that you also aren’t quite ready for your time together to come to an end.

“A friend of a friend sort of thing.” You explain with a shrug not really sure how else to explain your relationship with Jeff because you feel as if you’ve always known him. “What about you?” This has Harry chuckling as he gives you a questioning glance as if he doesn’t really believe the words that just came out of your mouth. “Sorry is that too personal? You don’t have to-”

“He’s my manager.”

“Manager of what?”

“Uh well you know that’s a great question.” You stop at the gate and turn to look at Harry who is already staring at you with a look that makes you think he doesn’t fully know if you’re real or not. “How have we never met before?” His voice is quieter as he takes a small step towards you making you feel your cheeks get warm when you feel his eyes roam over your face like he’s trying to memorize it so he can think back and picture it perfectly when you’re not around.

“I’m not sure.” You answer in a hushed tone that matches his and when you see his hand reach out to gently brush some hair out of your face you feel your heart do a weird double beat thing in your chest that has you taking a small step away from him and turning towards the gate. “Nice to meet you Harry.” Your words are jumbled together as you unlatch the gate and walk through it in a rush to get some distance between the two of you so you can try to get your breathing and heartbeat under control.

Harry stands there with his hand still in the air and he swears he can still feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips. He lets out a sigh as it falls to his side as he watches you walk down the driveway and then turn down the sidewalk, the lilac coloring of your dress getting caught in the streetlights. Harry isn’t sure how long he stands there staring at the now empty street, but clearly it’s long enough for Jeff to walk up to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay H?” There’s a minor hint of concern in his voice as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh uhm Yeah yeah I’m-I’m fine.” Jeff smiles to himself as he notes the very obvious flustered state his best friend is in and he knows this can only mean one thing, you’ve caught his attention.

“She’s-”

“Different.” Harry says as he turns to face Jeff. “In the best way.” He adds with a smile making Jeff raise an eyebrow at him. “Fuck I didn’t even get her number.” The look of pure defeat has Jeff slightly feeling bad for Harry but then he remembers the whole reason for this meeting in the first place, to make him want you until it drives him to a point of madness and then when you finally give in to him it will hopefully make him take those feelings and put them into songs.

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me you’ll see her again.”

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