#Medical Training Long Island

[sky-seoroundtable]

Medical Assistant Training Islandia NY | Access Careers

[frownyalfred]

You know the "all osha regulations come from blood" thing? I like to imagine the exact thing happens with the Justice League. The list of protocols and rules goes on so long but every single one has a story behind it.

Some of them seem out of place, or down right useless. New members often scoff at the trainings they're tasked to attend.

One of the regulations involves a required emergency survivalist kit on every space craft the Leauge owns, and requires routine inspections of said kits. New members get stuck with that bit of maintenence, and often complain "there's no reason it'll ever be needed." That is, until a begrudged Batman plays a video from the time Aquaman, Flash, and Wonder Woman got stuck on an ice planet with no vegetation or wildlife and they nearly froze to death.

Those who can fly ask why they need to attend trainings on emergency landing procedure. Any founding member gladly points to the framed front page Daily Planet article on the wall. It documents the island-sized crater Superman made after being super-punched back into the atmosphere a few years back.

And so on.

If you kill a civilian, knowingly, out of outright negligence, Batman will be out for blood. You'll be kicked off the League if you're lucky. You're an adult and you should know better. Every single rule and contingency he has in place is either because someone fucked up once, or they're like to fuck up someday.

Over time, those same cocky new members slowly realize that Batman is the one cleaning up after those incidents. He's the one who pays off the families and replaces the equipment. He quietly settles lawsuits and pays for future medical care. He repairs buildings and offers grants to displaced civilians. And then he goes up to the Watchtower, writes up the new regulation, and has to live with that kind of responsibility all over again. Because now they know better. Now there's a rule, and god willing, this won't happen again.

Being stupid, being cocky, just simple ignoring the rules briefly -- it all has a cost. And usually, that cost is borne by the flesh-and-blood humans, not the metas, aliens, or gods. Humans.

[french-unknown]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐁𝐘: @miyud04 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: law, ace, zoro, sabo 𝐂/𝐖: hurt/comfort, fluff 𝐀/𝐍: This post is a continuation of a previous one called "what you're the most insecure about" so it's better to have read it before. Thanks! @miyud04, I hope you liked it! °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° 𝐖/𝐂: 1.8 +

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝐋𝐀𝐖

| your biggest insecurity |

As the surgeon was about to take charge of the unconscious man lying in front of him, an inhabitant of an island where he had offered his medical talents in order to train in new operating techniques, he asked you to give him his scalpel that was next to you. Unfortunately, you accidentally went too far and almost completely dropped your hand with the tool in his held-out palm. As soon as you felt your skin against his, you froze. Law then turned away from his patient to look at you with a small smirk at the corner of his lips. "I knew you couldn't last that long, chewing gum." he sneered.

You immediately withdrew your hand, as if you had been burned, and you left toward the door while the "chewing gum" repeated mockingly and, above all, tirelessly in your head like an echo. However, you didn't have enough time to reach the handle before Law grabbed your wrist to bring you back to him. You were suddenly thrown against his body. You hastily pushed him away until only your wrist was still in contact with him and the doctor was wide-eyed, surprised by the violence of your reaction. He remained frozen in place.

"Let go." you ordered as coldly as you could when all your body was asking for was to prolong the moment you had been deprived of despite desesperately whishing for it. However, instead of letting you move away, he suddenly pulled you towards him before crossing his arms behind your back to hold you closer. You stayed, not wanting to make any move to repulse him, as you were torn between your conflicted feelings. The first was the happiness of finally sensing the warmth and contact of his body against yours. The second was, sadly, the terror that gnawed at your stomach at the idea of him finding you too clingy. Seeing that you were no longer moving between his arms, Law's hands gently slid towards yours before he circled them in his palms and brought them up to his shoulders. Still keeping you firmly against him, he moved your hands behind his head until they tangled in his hair that peeked out at the back of his neck from under his hat. He then rested his head on your neck.

"That’s ok, you know." he whispered softly in your ear. "You can touch me as much as you want, it'll never be too much if it's you."

After a while, when you were more relaxed, you couldn't help but ask, perplexed. "Maybe you should take care of the man on your operating table." You felt breath on your neck as he chuckled. "He’s not going to run away."

𝐀𝐂𝐄

| your biggest insecurity |

While the village where you were was celebrating, you had the impression that the fatigue was siphoning off your last strength. Ace was caught in an eating contest and he was surrounded by people chanting his name. There he was, laughing uproariously while being totally in his element. But, for your part, you observed them away from the crowd while regretting having come.

You didn't want to be there. Not now, not even when Ace offered it to you. Yet you couldn't refuse when he arrived with this invitation, announcing that he would do like you. You saw in his eyes that he was dying to go but you also knew that, if you refused to go, he would keep his word. You didn't want him to stay with you in your hotel room to finally regret not going or blame you for not wanting to do that for him. So you accepted and now here you are, dreaming of your silent room while praying that no one comes to talk to you. Exhausted, you decided to move away a little to recharge your batteries. Unfortunately, when you arrived on an adjacent street, the Fire Boy caught up with you.

"Why did you leave?" he asked accusingly. Even though you knew it was probably your social exhaustion that made you feel attacked, that didn't stop you from taking the bait.

"I was tired," you replied. "I was going to be back in a few minutes."

"But we were having fun, why didn’t you come with me?" He added, his tone rising. He moved closer to you until you were centimeters apart. You immediately felt invaded and backed away quickly. An unknown glint passed through his eyes. "Why are you staying in your corner? Aren’t we enough for you?"

"Because I didn’t want to be there." You groaned.

"Why did you come then?!" He started to scream.

"BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO GET STUCK WITH ME!" You broke down and started to scream too. "I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO BE MAD AT ME...for...for" You couldn't finish your sentence, your throat tight from the overflow that was confusing your thoughts. Ace came to take you into his arms.

"It suited me very well to spend the evening alone with you. I like it. I like you. You've avoided me so much lately that I was afraid. Every time I wanted to spend time with you, you preferred to go out and, when we were outside, you always stayed away from me." He calmly explained. There was a silence before he spoke again, trembling. "I thought you didn’t love me anymore."

You tightened your grip on him. "Never" you replied.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

| your biggest insecurity |

You convinced Zoro to go for a walk with you in the forest surrounding the bay where you had docked a few days before. In addition, you were able to buy a book in town a few days ago dealing with the fauna and flora endemic to the island. Having studied them, you absolutely wanted to test your knowledge and see if you could recognize them.

So while you were walking, you started babbling about everything you had learned. Each time you saw a new plant, you said its name and explained its characteristics just like for the animals you encountered, whether they were crawling, walking or flying. You felt more and more proud of yourself each time you noticed a new element and remembered everything that was written in your book relating to it. You felt the heat blooming in your chest. However, your excitement was cut short when you turned back to the swordsman.

With a deeply bored look on his face, he walked silently with his hands in his pockets as he passively looked around. He didn't even glance at the magnificent multicolored bird a few steps away from you that you were pointing at him. Realizing that he wasn't listening to you and wasn't even paying attention to what you were saying, you felt insecurity hit you. How long ago had he stopped listening to you? Had he even listened to you in the first place? Have you been bothering him all this time? As the information you had recently learned began to flash in your mind, begging to come out, you snapped your jaw shut and sealed your lips. The sense of joy you had previously felt in sharing what you had discovered immediately began to rot and decay into a painful miasma of self-doubt. Why couldn't you just shut up for once?

"You don't finish your sentence?" Zoro asked.

"I forgot what I wanted to say." You lied to him. "Must have been stupidity." And silence settled between you as you continued walking. Not wanting to be alone with him anymore, you started walking back towards the ship.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"Yes, of course." You replied promptly, not wanting to bother him even more.

"You don't talk anymore." he continued as the boat appeared between the trunks of the trees at the edge of the forest. "It’s weird."

"What, were you tired of it?" You laughed as best you could despite the tears that were starting to moisten your eyes.

"Nah," he started, walking past you to the Sunny. "I like it when you talk. It's you." Then he continued his way just as quietly, leaving you only the opportunity to see his back walk away and leave you there, shocked.

𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐎

| your biggest insecurity |

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your horrible headache. Your brain felt so painful that you wondered if it hadn't been punched by Garp The Fist himself. Finally opening one eye, you were grateful when you realized that you were in total darkness. After you got used to it, you saw a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, along with a painkiller, which you swallowed without hesitation. Finally, when the pain subsided, you noticed that you were lying in the room you shared with Sabo and that you had no idea how you had gotten there.

The last thing you remembered yesterday was waiting for him while he was at a meeting with Koala. Then he hadn't returned at the usual time, neither fifteen minutes later, nor an hour later. Jealous, you couldn't help but think of the girl who constantly hung out with your boyfriend with her "Sabo-kun!" You knew they got along well and, considering how she was always in Sabo's hands, it wouldn't surprise you if she wanted him too. Then you remembered having a beer, then two, then another and a glass of rum on top. Before you knew it, you had no memory of your evening.

The bedroom door then began to creak and a ray of light infiltrated the room, burning your retinas in the process. Feeling a sharp pain in your head again, you started to grunt again. The door then closed and you felt a weight collapse the bed next to you. When you looked there, you saw Sabo watching you, unreadable.

"Can we talk about what happened last night?" he asked neutrally. A shiver ran down your spine. You hesitated for a few seconds to blame the alcohol to avoid the discussion but you gave up and sat up against the pillows, nodding. "I don't really know what's been going on in your head lately and I thought giving you some time to talk to me about it was the solution but it seems I was wrong. I'm sorry if I did anything to displease you but I want you to talk to me about it and, above all, apologize to Koala. She didn't deserve the atrocities you said to her last night."

At these words, coupled with your fatigue as well as your discomfort due to the unhealthy jealousy that you kept deep inside you and the hangover, you literally collapsed against Sabo. You immediately started talking about all the negative feelings that were eating you up inside. All the while, you felt his hand stroking your hair while he placed kisses on you from time to time. Once the abscess was drained, he tried to convince you to let him help you so that you could find a solution to your jealousy.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

[mindblowingscience]

Overdose prevention centers, where individuals can consume illicit drugs under the observation of trained staff, are not associated with significant increases in crime, a new study finds. When the researchers compared syringe service programs in New York City with two programs that were recently sanctioned by city officials to offer supervised drug consumption, they found no significant increases in crimes recorded by the police or calls for emergency service in the surrounding neighborhoods. The findings, which are published in JAMA Network Open, come as plans to open overdose prevention centers proceed in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and elsewhere, and not long after lawmakers in Philadelphia passed a preemptive measure to ban these types of centers, says coauthor Brandon del Pozo, an assistant professor (research) at Brown University’s Warren Alpert Medical School and School of Public Health. “What this data shows is that if a neighborhood benefits from an established syringe service program, then adding the service of supervised drug consumption is not likely to increase reported crime, disorder complaints, or related calls to 311 and 911,” del Pozo says.

Continue Reading.

[tarjapearce]

Iridiscent

PirateAU! Miguel x Mermaid! Reader

Thanks to @sarapaprikas-blog for the idea ❤️✨. Been loving to experience with different AU'S lately ✨. Hope you like!

Warnings: Mild angst and historical figure mentions, implied mysticism ~

Prologue ✨

Pt. 2

As far as history was told, the sea had been the biggest grave in the world. Countless men, nations and civilizations perished under the might of the ever infinite sea. Not many dared to venture, after all, the stories of countless ships sunk under behemoth waves reached through all dry land known.

But that didn't stop the greatest empires to expand and colonize newly discovered lands thanks to years of observation. Many thought of the sea a living being, a being that could be tamed or at least controlled enough to small civilizations to be born in lands people only dreamed of.

However, as the sea earned it's title of a living creature, the mysticism around it grew. Many believed the sea was a she, and bringing a woman on board only made her jealous. A common belief among outcasts and pirates. Something that was debunked as the golden age of piracy advanced.

But even so, the word spread around was that the sea favored female pirates better than men. Lagertha, Mary Read, Anne Bonnie, Zheng Shi, Grace O'Malley, to name a few of the most iconic pirates that against all, conquered, navigated, commanded and plundered at their contempt.

Many believed that they had done a pact with the devil himself, but others strongly believed that there were creatures below that left no trace once the women settled for a target. Mermaids.

Creatures often described as the beauty of death itself embodied. Beautiful women luring men to their inevitable deaths. Something, that some men longed for, and feared by others. The rumor was that if you caught a mermaid alive, the creature was bound to grant you a wish.

But for Miguel, they were nothing but myths and lies. A once young and naive self had ventured in the sea to find one, so he could cure his daughter once the land medics had abandoned all hope. And so he did, once his little girl had closed her twinkling innocent eyes, full of dreams, forever.

He was a changed man after that. He didn't allow his men to talk about such nonsensical things in his ship, Reina Gabriela, and poor of the man that was caught red handed. Reason had gotten him where he was, a feared outlaw among the Spaniards and English folk alike. Not by his overall intimidating looks, but the ruthless and cunning of his attacks.

The Red Eyed Demon, they called him.

------

Miguel had settled the route towards an island that promised a proper restock of his resources. He would let his men unwind, he'd probably spend the night away with a well prepared courtesan. The type of woman that knew how to entertain him beyond the physical ways, once they were on land.

By sunset, he would be landing. The island itself wasn't a problem, the inhabitants of it were. At least for him, full of highly superstitious people, that were always showering him in foul smelling concoctions, lung itching fumes and heavy charms of protection to "cleanse the spirit of anything that could drag you and your ship down".

Isla del Sol, or Sunny Island as many called it, was like a secret hideway-paradise for Pirates that stopped by to rest. Opposite from what the Spaniards and English believed, the Island was run under the command of a council of five.

A retired English commander that did better as a pirate than a law enforcer named Edward, A Spaniard pirate well versed in the arts of administration named Xavier, A jamaican man which eloquence only rivaled the Queen's erudites themselves named Toussaint, An asian woman trained in the arts of killing and weaponry named Sheng Hyun, and a white haired chaman whose wisdom was often seeked by the rest.

So far the island had worked and thrived under their command. They had even asked Miguel to join them, because of his strategic and cunning mind. But of course, he refused. A man like him wasn't easily bound to bureaucratics, even though, ironically he had strict rules in his ship.

His men were loyal, after all, Miguel took proper care of his crew. Well fed, healthy, well armed, and now, well rested. Reina Gabriela approached the docks and soon the men worked. Some put the extended sails away, others put the weaponry in their place, others cleaned and so on. Everyone had a role aboard, and Miguel made sure for them to accomplish it.

He threw a small pouch of gold to a nearby man to watch over his ship as he was out. The island felt like another city, but difference was, that inside land there were no guards, no laws that didn't benefit them. And if anyone caused a ruckus, Sheng Hyun was sent to deal with it, personally.

His men scattered around, except for the quarter master, the cook, weaponry master, Navy Engineer and doctor. They discussed briefly the upgrades for the ship, new dishes to the menu, and new places to get weapons, medicines and sturdier woods from. He dismissed them once everyone had their list, then he was alone.

His feet took him nearby the merchants as they exposed their goods to everyone passing by. Guards uniforms, royal weapons and wax seals perfect for an unsuspecting ruse, medicines, a new type of powder that was a bit more waterproof, Chinese explosives, sedating darts, portraits of naked royal women, some gemstones, and of course, luck charms and talismans.

He scoffed as his eyes rolled at the various trinkets. He had to admit that whoever came with these ideas had found a gold mine that relied in people's blind faith, probably would shake their hand if he ever knew who it was. One trinket stood out from the rest.

It was an iridescent pearl, a quarter size of his palm, along some black and pearly scales protuding ontop. There was no chain around it to be worn, the merchant noticed him staring at the trinket and smiled.

"Good if y'wanna catch a mermaid. They love shiny things."

Miguel looked at him with an eyebrow quirked and a skeptical look.

"You seem confident enough to sell these... crafts."

"Ah, another nonbeliever. Tis'fine mate. I've dealt with so many like you before. Mostly of the non believing part roots from something denied to you in the past. Am'i'rite?"

Miguel's jaw clenched softly at the boldness of the man. He looked like the typical merchant with shady business on the side.

"Leave this man alone, Joseph." The chaman of the council spoke behind Miguel as she took the pearl in her old, wrinkled hands.

"Come" He motioned Miguel to follow. Despite being a highly spiritual woman, the council's chaman did not pressure him into believing, but rather spoke to him sometimes in riddles. Riddles that he grew tired of eventually. He followed.

"A surprise to find you watching these sort of trinkets, Miguel."

"Hard to not when they get stranger and colorful each time I come here."

The elder lady hooked her arm on his as she supported on Miguel, that secured her as he walked next to her.

"I'd be grateful if you wouldn't speak about anything mystic tonight."

"Wasn't my intention, boy. But I must say, you've got quite the eye for these things. It's a real pearl, if you wish to sell it."

Miguel kept walking, being led by the chaman.

"Or I could gift it to a mermaid" Miguel chuckled and the lady looked at him with curious eyes.

"Well, to do such thing, you'd have to find one first."

"I won't, cause they're not real."

The chaman smiled smugly at him.

"What would you do if your homeland got infested with rotting bodies, blood and so many other unpleasant things continuously?"

"I'd look for a new home." he humored, but the lady only nodded in approval.

"And what kind of home you'd look for?"

"One that wasn't near the cities or civilization. Probably a secret manantial or even a virgin island"

The lady smiled

"Congratulations, Miguel. You now have the first lead into finding a mermaid."

"You can't expect me to believe such things."

"No lo espero, pero sé que tu curiosidad por dichas criaturas ha aumentado. ¿Qué es lo deseas tener?" (I don't, but I know for sure that your curiosity for such creatures have peaked your interest. What is it you long for?)

Miguel looked down at the lady, wistfully and she rubbed his arm comfortingly. Like a grandma would.

"My dear. Mystical creatures can only do so much, Miguel. Sadly, bringing back the dead isn't something they can do."

"No sabes de lo que hablas. No me conoces" (You don't know what you are talking about. You don't know me)

He seethed the last words as his grip abandoned the lady. His body tensed when the chaman reached out again to take his large hand.

"Loss is part of our lives, Miguel" Her wrinkled hands put the pearl in his hand, hers covered his warmly, pushing the trinket further in his hands, "And we all move on eventually. Life is full of wonders, and who knows, maybe what you find ahead in your path is exactly what you need"

He nearly growled as another riddle was added to the list.

"Te dije que te dejaras de-" (Thought I told you to quit the-)

His mouth gaped slightly, the lady was gone. He was left alone with the pearl in his hand, "Acertijos..." (Riddles...) he sighed and stared at the pearl, to then tuck it back on his pocket.

What was he longed for?

[ouroborosorder]

I once heard someone say that because Arknights' disability representation is mostly tied to their fantasy turbo-cancer, then it doesn't feel like real disabled representation, and I've been unable to get it out of my head, like a piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth. So, rather than doing my homework like I'm supposed to be, I want to talk about why I disagree and why I love Arknights' approach to disability.

So, for those who are unaware, Arknights has a shockingly high amount of disabled characters, and characters who are disabled in a lot of different ways, both caused by being Infected and just being disabled in the way that normal people are. Nightingale has chronic pain, Lemuen is the best sniper in Laterano while being in a wheelchair, Akafuyu is mostly blind, Eyja has severe hearing loss, Rosmontis has severe memory loss, Amiya has very severe PTSD, I could go on and on.

And of course there'd be a lot of operators with disabilities! Rhodes Island is a medical organization dedicated towards long-term care of terminally ill patients. Of course many of them would develop disabilities, and of course Rhodes would have the resources and facilities to help them. They even make notes of how to treat them in their medical files, like how Ejyafjalla's has a little guide on how to best have a conversation with her. It makes perfect sense, but I can't say a lot of games would think about it on that level.

And that why I like this game's approach to disability so much. A lot of video games just treat disability as "someone missing an arm" or "someone in a wheelchair because of Their Injuries From Combat. It's usually treated as an individual thing, just someone who got hurt, or who maybe has a frail constitution or whatever. But in Arknights, disability isn't simply treated as a character trait for individuals, but as part of the worldbuilding itself. The world is largely defined by Oripathy, this fatal degenerative disease with no cure. And the Infected are treated as second-class citizens, considered free labor that they don't have to treat ethically because they're dying anyway. The writers realized that this would cause severe disability, both real and fantastical, and worked it into the story and world.

This runs the other way, too! Arknights' worldbuilding follows a sort of social model of disability, in a way. There's a lot of fantasy stories that treat the inability to use magic as a sort of disability, but to Arknights, it's... not. Because Arts require specialized training, and so a lot of people just don't know how to use them, and might not even know they can't use Arts. So it's not treated as such, even though it is still a physical inability to perform things other people can.

But on the other end, Laterano's culture is based around the Sankta having empathic communication between each other. Mostima, as a fallen angel, can't use this telepathy anymore, and she speaks about how othering it feels sometimes, to be physically unable to engage with an important part of her culture. While it's not explicitly stated as a disability to the Lateran culture, I certainly feel like it's treated as one to some degree. Namely that it's explicitly contrasted with Fiametta's PTSD rendering her unwilling to empathize with the people around her, as opposed to Mostima's physical inability. It's the fantasy disability treated with the same weight as real world disability, because within the world of Terra, they're the same thing.

And of course there's just some of the more fucked up fantasy stuff like "On top of her existing narcolepsy, Ptilopsis was forced to become plural after she had to have part of her brain replaced with a computer that forces her to speak and think like a computer or else it causes her severe mental stress to the point of physical pain." Which uh. I don't know where that fits in the conversation but jesus christ someone hug that owl

Of course, its representation isn't always perfect. Just off the top of my head, Nightmare is a pretty rough stereotype, with the whole "Oripathy gave her multiple personality disorder with a violent personality trying to take control of her body!!" trope. And, of course, I'm sure other people have complaints with the representation of their disability in ways that I'm not aware of because I only have the perspective I have.

But... what I remember about this game's treatment of disability isn't when it fails. What I remember is reading Glaucus' module for the first time, the story of the first time she ever put on the mechanical exo-suit legs that allowed her to walk for the first time in her life. And I started bawling my fucking eyes out. I cried because, even though I don't know the specific feeling of walking for the first time in years, I know well what she felt. That feeling of liberation from something you secretly feared was just who you are now. Even though you know it won't be a perfect solution, the physically choking emotion that you're able to get a little closer to a normalcy you've always wanted. The feeling that right now, the only thing you can do is run like the wind.

[fayes-fics]

Doctor’s Orders

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Someone decides to play doctor to ameliorate your bad day…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, doctor/patient roleplay, dom/sub tones, ‘medical examination’ with use of stethoscope and latex gloves, voluntary breathplay, cardiophilia, vaginal fingering, edging.

Word Count: 4.5 k

Authors Note: this is a long-awaited (9 months!) request fill for the lovely @eleanor-bradstreet. My dear, I hope this is somewhat worth the wait. To anyone medically trained, yes, I know what he does is wrong/inaccurate, but that’s the whole point: he’s a somewhat clueless but enthusiastic roleplaying boy, not a real doctor. Thank you to @colettebronte for the read-through and suggestions. Enjoy! <3

It’s been one of those spectacularly shit days at work. When you get to your boyfriend’s flat, all you want to do is shower, crash out and watch brainless TV together.

“Bad day?” Benedict intuits, wandering over from the kitchen, casual in shorts and a t-shirt, as you drop your bag like a tonne of bricks near his front door and pout.

“Hate my job,” you whine, burying your head into his shoulder as he chuckles affectionately, pulling you into his arms and busses a kiss onto your temple.

“No, you don’t; you love your job. You just didn’t love it today,” he smiles into your hair.

“Urgh, fine, yes, Mr EQ, yes, that's true,” you huff his neck, enjoying his clean scent.

“Come with me, my stressed-out noodle,” he offers good-naturedly, withdrawing from the embrace and lacing your fingers with his. He backs up, pulling you along with him further into the flat.

“Where are we going?” you pout again.

“To eat, I made us dinner,” he smiles, something melting in your chest at the sweet gesture. 

“Do I have time to shower first?” you ask, wanting to remove all physical traces of this workday from your skin.

“Of course, be my guest,” he nods towards his room, with the en suite bathroom beyond, and you drop a kiss on his cheek as you go.

—

Fifteen minutes later, you emerge freshly showered and wearing some of his clothes- a t-shirt that swamps you and jogging bottoms you have to roll up at the waist. You take a seat at the kitchen island and tuck into the amazing-smelling food he has laid out, even giving you a comedic bow as you reenter the room.

The food tastes like heaven, and you can't stop the appreciative moans at the flavour explosion on your tongue.

“Fuck Ben, this is delicious,” you assert as you swallow the mouthful.

His face lights up with that beguiling smile that hooked you in the first place all those months ago, and you can't help but lean in and give him a quick peck.

“So do you want to talk about the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? Or is this more of a big glass of wine and stfu sort of deal?“ he hedges amiably, assessing your needs.

You sigh as you finish your next bite. “Honestly? I don't know. I’m so stressed about it all I sort of don’t want to talk about it. I feel like I need to be one of those Regency ladies who is prescribed a trip to the seaside for my nerves, you know?” you jest, circling your empty fork in the air to highlight your point.

He barks a laugh. “Funny you should say that; I was just reading a book about hilarious historical cures.”

“Yeah…?” your interest piqued.

“Dorset left it out,” he explains, referring to his roommate, a junior doctor at Guys Hospital. “It's hilarious. But I don't think they would diagnose you with a trip to the seaside, at least not based on what I’ve read.”

You swivel on your stool to face him. “Oh no? Then what would I have been prescribed, Dr Bridgerton?” you jest, leaning your chin on your hand and arching a challenging brow. But you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction as you address him such.

He turns towards you with a laconic smile. “You likely would have been prescribed a course of pelvic stimulations.”

You are glad you hadn't taken another bite of dinner, as you would have sprayed him with food with that spit take.

“What?!? No!” you laugh incredulously.

“Don't believe me? Go look,” he challenges, gesturing to the book on the coffee table.

“So… Is that what I think it is? Women would literally be told, medically, to masturbate?” you giggle, disbelieving.

“Oh no,” he corrects. “You wouldn't do it; the doctor would.”

“What the…??”

“Yup… ‘to alleviate the female hysterics’,” he chimes, affecting an old-timely announcer voice.

“With what?” you ponder aloud, still utterly perplexed.

“Hands, I would assume,” he breezes. “Why? Would you like a helping hand?” he winks, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

“I mean….” you trail off, still laughing but feeling a tiny buzz between your legs at the idea. “I'm not going to say no… Doctor Bridgerton,” you banter back.

Benedict puts down his fork, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his bite of food and turns slowly towards you, an enigmatic glint in his eye.

“Well, now, you will need a thorough medical examination before I can determine if such a prescription is even the correct one,” he throws out, still with a jovial air, but the dropped octave is decidedly suggestive.

“How long until I can get an appointment?” you shoot back, feeling the atmosphere in the room shift, the dynamic between you playful but with a definite undercurrent of heat now.

“The doctor is always in… for you,” he answers, a hand landing heavily on your knee. “If you are ready, please go wait in the exam room,” Benedict responds, signalling to the sofa, that hand squeezing slightly. “The doctor can be right with you.”

You giggle and shoot him a ‘Are we really doing this?’ look. When he nods, you wiggle off the stool and drift over to the sectional as he disappears down the hallway, your half-eaten dinners now very much abandoned. Little butterflies in your stomach as you perch, eagerly awaiting his return.

When he re-enters the room, you almost forget how to breathe. He has obviously raided his flatmate's room and come out wearing a white doctor’s overcoat, his shapely calves bare beneath the hem, a stethoscope slung casually around his shoulders. He has also dug out his reading glasses to complete the look. He is so utterly convincing you don't know what to think, except…. Oh fuck yes.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n,” he greets, stepping effortlessly into the roleplay. “I'm Dr Bridgerton. Tell me, what ails you today?” 

He sits on the coffee table right in front of you, looking at you expectantly for your response.

“Hello, doctor,” you begin, stilted, still a little discombobulated by his appearance and how utterly aroused you are by it. “I… I am overworked in my job and don't know the best way to relieve the stress I feel….” 

“Well, I am sorry to hear that. Let us do a basic examination so I can rule out any possible physical ailments and go from there.” Before you can respond, he produces disposable gloves from his overcoat pocket and snaps them on, your tummy fluttering at the sight of them pulling taunt around his long fingers. 

Oh, he means it.

He leans in, his hands cupping your jaw, warm even through the latex. You whimper quietly, realising he is pretending to feel the lymph nodes beneath your ear for swelling. But he doesn't let go; he just stares you down, his eyes glittering in the lamp glow. 

“Say ahhh,” he prompts.

You open your mouth instinctively, just like at the doctor’s. He pivots a hand so his thumb gently presses down on your tongue as he peers into your mouth.

“Hmm, I see no evidence of an oral infection. But I should check via other means too, to be thorough,” he murmurs, pupils dilating as you cheekily close your lips around his thumb and suck on it suggestively. The powdery flavour on the glove somehow just heightens the heat you feel spreading inside.

“Behave please, Miss,” he rebukes, but his actions say otherwise - extracting his thumb and trailing your saliva in a line down over your chin, your neck, resting it in your suprasternal notch as his fingers curl around your neck and tug you towards him.

His kiss is deep and breathtaking. His tongue unfurls into your mouth and probes yours as if this, too, is a thorough examination. You follow his lead, letting him dictate the terms, wanting to follow wherever he is going with this.

“I think we can rule out anything in your mouth being the problem,” he opines drolly over your lips. 

“Thank you, doctor,” you respond coquettish.

“Let me listen to your lungs to ensure there are no respiratory problems. Remove your clothing, please,” he orders brusquely, sitting back.

“All of it?” you inhale sharply.

“I suppose just your top for now,” he revises, looking a tad impatient.

When you whip off the top to reveal you are without a bra, his eyes flash, and the tip of his tongue pokes out as your nipples pebble in the cool air of the room. A wave of something behind your ribs as he unfurls the stethoscope from around his neck and places it in his ears.

“Please keep your hands at your sides at all times. And beware, this may be cold,” he warns.

You squeak as the cool metal is placed onto the flesh above your left breast, your hands curling around the sofa edge by your thighs so you keep them as told.

“Breath in deeply for me,” he instructs, and you do, taking a deep inhale, feeling your body bloom with his proximity as his face squints in concentration. When he doesn't say exhale, you hold, unsure what else to do, your lungs feeling tight. It seems much longer than necessary. “And out”

He drags the bell over your sternum to the same spot on the right side. 

“Again” he orders. You follow the instructions, taking a deep breath. “Hold it,” he alerts, as you start to feel the struggle for air. You do his bidding, feeling that trademark ache under your ribs under the exertion. “And release,” he instructs just as you want to disobey.

“Good,” he rumbles, “just one more.”

You pant lightly as he drags the scope down between your breasts, then jump as he presses it low into the sensitive spot where your ribs meet on your diaphragm. 

“In and hold.”

As you do, he tilts forward and suddenly seizes a nipple between his teeth. You make a strangled noise in your closed mouth, a zipping thrill right down to your clit. The surprise makes air escape out your nose, fingers grasping the cushion.

“No,” he gruffs into your breast, not looking up at you. “I told you to hold. You hold your breath until I say you can release,” he lectures. “Now breath in and hold it,” his voice taking on a steely edge that makes your pussy constrict.

Wordlessly, you do as told, and this time, he swaps to your other nipple, biting down, then lathing with his hot tongue as you struggle—tight lungs, intense pressure behind your cheeks. The thronging pleasure around where he teases you makes it an almost impossible task; starting to struggle a little, your body twitching, fingers and toes flexing.

“Let it out,” he permits, and you open your mouth, the air escaping in a loud ‘pahhhh’ sound.

“Well, I think your lungs sound very healthy,” he breezes nonchalantly as if this is just how a doctor does an exam.

“That’s good,” you defer to his faux expertise even as you feel his saliva drying on your areola. 

“Now, let's test your heart,” he proceeds, pulling the stethoscope from his ears so it rests around his neck. “Remove the rest of your clothing now, please, Miss.”

“Is that strictly necessary, doctor? Just to listen to my heart?” you waver, even as your hands go to the ties at your waistband.

“I am the doctor here, am I not?” he counters, raising a brow.

“Yes,” you demure, a pulse around your clit at how thoroughly he inhabits this role.

“You may find it easier to stand,” he chuckles as he watches you shuffling, struggling to remove your bottoms while seated. 

So you do as he suggests, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin around your belly button as you push the loose jersey material over the swell of your hips. He growls at the other surprise lurking—you wear no underwear, your bare slit inches from his face as the clothing pools around your feet, now utterly naked.

“Is this okay, doctor?” you simper, looking down at him sitting on the coffee table as he finally tilts his head to look at your face.

“Lay down on the exam table,” he commands, his pointer finger jabbing towards the chaise.

“Make me…”

Your tongue rebels before your brain can engage, wanting to see how much he will take control if you act out. He springs to his feet, towering over you, inches from you, and grasps the nape of your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Are you questioning my methods?” he interrogates, his hold strong but not hurting.

Oh, yes, Benedict, well done.

“No, Doctor,” you simper, attempting to look innocent but knowing your eyes must be fully dilated by now, distracted by the pulse you see in his throat.

“I need to be very thorough before I can diagnose you accurately, Miss,” he cautions. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, doctor.” 

“Good. Now lay down,” he instructs brusquely, releasing his grip.

You drop to the sofa and lay out for him, a thrill zipping over your skin. He places a large cushion beneath your neck and head so you are tilted up and can see down the plain of your naked body.

“Now be very still and be very quiet. Keep your hands at your sides. Whatever I do to you is to ensure your heart is healthy. Do you understand me?” he tutors, his eyes roaming your body covetously.

“Yes, doctor,” you confirm, knowing your chest is rising and falling rapidly, the anticipation burning in your being.

He places the stethoscope directly over your heart and loops it back into his ears, the cool metal now a balm against your flushed skin.

“You have a good strong heartbeat,” he states casually, “But it is a little slow for my liking….”

His gloved hand loops around the leg closest to him and hauls it wide into his lap, your knee brushing a prominent bulge under the overcoat that makes your insides clench at the very thought of his cock.

“Stay still.” 

His clipped reminder is delivered as he trails his fingertips along your inner thigh, his other hand still holding the stethoscope against your chest. Your breath stutters as his latex-covered fingers nudge your folds, already weeping.

“Well, I see there is certainly no problem with your ability to get aroused,” he intones smokily with a tantalising brush over your clit. 

His moves are unrushed, his touch maddeningly light, not nearly enough, barely a glance over your soaked flesh, making you ache for more. After a few moments, you whine and defiantly attempt to push into his touch.

“Did I not tell you to be still and quiet?” he arches an eyebrow, and you pout but still yourself and fold your lips inwards under your teeth. “That’s better. Now let's see what happens when I….”

He expertly plunges two long fingers into your pussy, your arousal leaking over his gloves as he does so. He hisses his approval at your heated cling, pushing deep as you swallow your gasp, biting your lip to prevent any more sound from escaping. His fingers hook, and his wrist twists in slow corkscrew turns, dragging thoroughly over your walls as if giving you an internal exam. You crave more: more fingers, movement, friction, more of anything, your fingernails scratching against the fibres of the sofa, keeping them at your sides as told, even as you itch to grab his wrist and direct his motions.

“Interesting,” he mutters, his fingers swirling slowly, probing inside as he drags the scope fractionally on your sternum.

You utter a silent curse, your body already quivering. The room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing and the sodden noise from between your legs as he leisurely rocks his gloved fingers into and out of your pussy, you suctioning around his knuckles, the stretch with each stroke making you want to beg for him to make you come.

“Your heart is definitely strong,” he declares, “but I think we need to put it to the test properly.”

His thumb presses onto your clit, and it's like a lightning bolt through your being. Something about the fact it's not his skin on yours lends an extra frisson. You can feel the warmth of his pad behind the latex barrier as he flicks against your swollen nub.

“More, please, Doctor Bridgerton, please,” you entreat desperately, attempting to tilt your pelvis to ride his hand.

He groans at your use of his name, not chastising you for vocalising. His rigid cock brushes your knee held in his lap as he surges his hips fractionally, your legs spread obscenely wide as he finger fucks you, his stethoscope leaving a circular imprint on your chest, almost bearing his weight into your skin. God help you both if his flatmate cuts his night shift short.

“Your bpm is rising,” he reports as his fingers move faster, wringing filthy noises from your body now, pushing harder with every stroke, his thumb circling your clit with unerring pressure. You just moan a litany of ‘Dr Ben’, and ‘yes’ and ‘please don’t stop’ as you spiral higher.

“That's it, yes, that's what I like to hear,” he encourages, “it's like music.” 

Even you can tell your heart is thumping now, hearing it loud in your own ears as the blood rushes to your head. Just as you are about to crest, he suddenly stops his ministrations and withdraws his fingers. You cry out as he rests the soaked glove on your lower belly, pressing down softly from the outside on that spot that aches for more, your own juices dripping down between your bum cheeks.

“Shhh shh,” he pacifies, the scope he still holds with his other hand feeling heavy on your flesh as his prideful gaze travels up your panting body, gleeful at his ability to do this to you. 

You plead with your eyes as his eyes finally reach your face, silently asking him to finish.

“Wonderful, your heartbeat is so strong in my ears,” he sounds almost wistful, dreamy. 

Your breathing slows, even as you feel the burn of an orgasm so denied, your pelvis throning, your clit painfully engorged.

“Hmm, let’s go again, shall we?” he smirks.

That’s all the warning you get before he plunges his fingers back inside, this time using three, the latex glove squeaking slightly around his palm. You scream and cant your body up off the sofa to the point he briefly lets go of the scope; his glove presses down on your diaphragm, forcing you back flat so you cannot ride his fingers like you want to.

“Please, doctor…” you beseech, voice reedy and wanton, uncaring about anything but being hurled over that divine edge.

“The more you ask, the less I am inclined to deliver,” he menaces. “I will just edge you all night and listen to your heart thumping so hard for me it sounds like it wants to break out from under your ribs.” he jerks the scope pointedly over your breastbone. 

You close your eyes and bite your lip, resigning yourself to obey. That he might keep you on edge for so long, you cannot bear—you need to come like you need air.

His handsome face is smug as he once again probes your body from inside, almost experimenting based on the tiny whimpers you make. He jabs a spot that makes your entire body spasm, and a crooked, dangerous smile spreads over his features.

“Oh, look what we have found,” his chest resonant with pitch, the tone dark and sweet.

Once again, you beg silently, but he indulges in the tease. Tapping gently on the spot rather than rocking into it, a slow, gentle touch that makes every nerve jangle, like an itch you cannot scratch hard enough.

“I love to see you like this,” he admits breathily as he keeps us at that vexing pace. “So strung out and desperate to come. You would do anything I told you to right now, wouldn't you? If I just promised to let you over the edge.”

You are nodding vigorously before he even finishes his sentence, his triumphant expression almost galling if not for the desire writ large on his face.

“Good,” he snarls and starts to jab on that same spot. Desire roars fire in your veins, and you scream, your body trembling. He leans over and captures one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you scream again, uncaring what any of his neighbours may think.

You are dangling on the edge, reality bleeding into pleasure when once again he stops, and the noise that escapes your lungs is feral—a wretched groaning wail as an inferno licks around every edge of your being.

“Listen,” he growls, roughly yanking the tubes from his ear and placing them over yours. The noise is almost deafening, a thumping rhythm so fast it is virtually interpolating and looping upon itself. It's fascinating and life-affirming even as your body cries out, your clit pulsing in tempo with the thrumming beat. Greedily, he grabs them back and places them over his ears again, moving the bell to the right, his breath gusting hard.

“Touch yourself,” he orders gruffly.

It doesn't take moments for your hand to slide between your legs and catch your clit, a hardened, searing nub so wet you can hardly find grip and so distended it doesn't even feel like your body.

He leans possessively over you, a vein in his neck pulsing as he listens intently, his eyes pinging between your face, the scope on your naked chest and your hand between your legs, rubbing vigorously.

When his fingers sink back inside you, your knuckles cradled in his palm as you strum your clit, it hurtles you instantly over. You grasp his bicep as you crest the wave, your whole body held taught then snapping, shuddering and pulsing forcefully around his fingers as you tumble down that abyss, his stethoscope almost bruising your breastbone as you writhe, him singing your praises. You don't recall the next few moments, floating far away as everything is fuzzy, as if behind a gauzy filter. 

“Oh, that was perfect,” he attests sotto voce as you return to yourself, shaking with tony aftershocks. “You should hear how alive your body sounds when you come like that. Fuck that was amazing…” he seems almost dazed, his fingers dormant inside you.

As he withdraws from you, you emit a mewl, overwrought and shaking from the intensity. 

“Well, Miss,” he begins, slipping back into his roleplay. “I can say without a doubt you are very healthy, so no concern there. I can also tell your stress level is much lower now. Thus, I shall be prescribing you a minimum of two orgasms a day. Purely for your health, you understand,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, doctor,” you nod drowsily, slurring slightly. “Should I administer them mysel…?”

“No,” he cuts in. “I'm afraid it requires a medical professional such as myself to ensure correct dosage,” his tone gravelly, snapping off the gloves from his hands, balling them up and tossing them aside. “You will need to see me morning and night for at least a month until I can properly assess whether the treatment plan is effective.”

“Yes, Doctor Bridgerton,” you purr sibilant, too strung out to do anything but languidly agree to everything he says.

As you go to close your legs, he grabs your kneecap, preventing you.

“Oh no, we are not done here,” he intones with a tinge of menace.

“No?” you stutter.

“No, I need to be very thorough,” he counters, his voice rich like velvet. His bare fingers trail ticklish patterns over the crease of your knee as he smiles perilously, enjoying keeping you on tenterhooks. “I am nowhere near done with your treatment for the day. You have only had one climax, and I do believe I said you need a minimum of two per day," he reminds you, his stare blistering. 

You watch, almost stupified, as he removes the stethoscope and swivels to kneel between your legs, grabbing them and pushing them high and wide apart, the burning stretch along your inner thighs making you gasp.

“Now, are you going to do exactly what your doctor tells you to do this time?” he grills, his fingers digging into your flesh, his gaze intense.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good,” the word resonates through his being as his hungry stare slips over your body, down between your legs. “Now I think you need something more substantial than fingers, don't you?” he smirks playfully.

“Please, yes, please, Doctor Bridgerton,” you implore, canting your breasts up towards him, your eyes covetously sliding down his body as he hovers over you. Your breath quickens when you see the clear outline of his cock bulging against the overcoat. Oh god, is he naked under there? The thought makes you clench again.

You raise your hands and tug at the collar of his overcoat until the first popper opens, revealing his constellation of freckles. When he doesn't stop you, emboldened, you pull again, each popper relenting, a larger slice of his naked torso revealed with each ping. By the time you are down to the last two, you see the trail of hair from beneath his belly button and moan.

“You have been naked this whole time, doctor?!” your voice hitching almost scratchy.

He grabs your hand away, pressing it into the cushion above your head as he bears you into the sofa with his weight, one of that last fastened poppers snagging cold metal against your swollen clit.

“I cannot ask my patients to be naked if I am not as well, surely?” he rumbles, hot in your ear, his warm chest covering yours. He grabs your other wrist and guides it to the same place. “Now, hold onto the cushion under your head and don't move your hands until I say so,” he orders, his smoulder turning lethal as you do as told. 

He pulls up slightly and yanks the rest of the coat open, throwing it aside, giving you only a fleeting glance before surging his leaking, heated cock right over your slit.

“God, Ben, fuck me,” your errant internal monologue slips from your tongue before you can stop it.

“Who is Ben?” he quips duskily, rocking in a distracting manner, his tip glancing into your folds. “There is only Doctor Bridgerton here tonight.”

“Doctor Bridgerton,” you amend, fingers curling into the seam of the throw cushion, fighting the urge to grab him, “please fuck me.” 

He smiles triumphantly and lowers himself over you so you are swamped by him. 

“Well, as you asked so nicely…” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

Dividers credit: @/firefly-graphics

[ratkingsocks]

Misc. Heart Pirates Head Canons

So, when I'm bored out of my brain at work I've been thinking about my silly little beloveds the Heart Pirates! So here are some thoughts I've had about them and the crew structure! Crew Structure

Not a traditional first mate or incredibly strict hierarchy. I figure Law's authority issues extend to how he runs his crew!

There's four "departments" basically where one of the core-four preside over.

Bepo is in charge of all the helm stuff: navigation, steering, general operations (maintenance of equipment, engineering)

Penguin is in charge of personnel: finances, crew schedules, supplies (clothes, food, yatta yatta)

Shachi is on weapons: armory & procurement of, training the crew, and any like recon they do is planned by him

Law handles all the medical stuff: yearly exams, extensive charts/notes on the crew, any on-going treatments, and the supplies for this specifically goes through him

As captain, Law does oversee/supervise the others if he feels it relevant but after like 13 years he's pretty confident his favorite idiots can handle themselves!

The tang runs on two shifts so someone is always around to keep the sub running in case of emergencies, as such there's often multiple crew members capable of a job (ex chef, helmsman, engineering, nurses)

All the crew knows how to handle alarms, any gauge or sonar readouts, and just generally keep everyone from dying

Most of the crew knows basic triage and first aid

Any Big Decisions (TM) are normally talked over. The crew has a lot of say in most scenarios... One of the few times this was not the case was Law ordering them to Zou when he went to Punk Hazard.

It was an intentional choice on Law & the crew's part that none of them were spotted on jobs and don't have bounties. A lot of the crew's work, especially early on in Law's plotting against Doffy, was gathering information and other covert work. Them being well known or recognizable would've made it impossible for this to get done... It also would've made hiding from Doffy that much harder.

The crew splits proceeds evenly! 50% goes to the Tang's upkeep and supplies, 50% is split equally between everyone else.

Named Crew Jobs

Law- Captain, Doctor

Penguin- Quartermaster

Shachi- Armsmaster

Bepo- Navigator

Jean Bart- Helmsman

Ikkaku- Head Engineer

Uni- Head Nurse

Clion Chef

Hakugan- Helmsman

The unnamed crew I do plan to flesh out eventually, but I haven't made a whole lot of headway in that direction yet... Some day I shall!

Silly HCs

Other than Bepo, everyone is older than Law

Penguin likes to sing

He also has collected rocks & shells from every island they've stopped at to make a living map of their travels.

I personally like to think of Shachi & Peng as some sort of fishman-human hybrid or perhaps a few generations removed from a fishman ancestor? Not super sure on how it works exactly, but I think they both look a lil odd and that's why they hide their eyes and such with hats.

Ikkaku handles Law 2nd best only to the Core 4. She knows when he needs space and when he needs to be pushed pretty well, and so they're pretty close.

Uni loves to sew; it's how he relaxes and passes time while they're underwater for long stretches of time. He is also the person who customizes most of Law's clothes with their jolly roger

Law did said customization before they recruited Uni and still helps, but Uni shoves him off often and says this is his therapy time alone

Clione takes to new members the best

He's also a great fighter and definitely yeeted Shachi into a wall one day; Shachi was delighted with this

He can drink most of the crew under the table

Hakugan is enby! And uses they/them pronouns

They also communicate with sign language, so the entire crew is relatively fluent

Hakugan is never lost; they have a 6th sense for where north is at all times

Much like their namesake, Hakugan is a volatile creature prone to violence

Shachi likes to keep up with psychology journals in his free time, so sometimes he & Law will have a little "medical journal book club" to hang out

Bepo is more an astronomy & weather guy... there was, however, a tragic mix-up with the news coo one time that resulted in Bepo getting an astrology magazine.

He likes to torment Law by teasing him with a well placed "That's so very libra of you, captain."

Law actually likes his coffee absurdly, disgustingly sweet

Penguin, however, takes his coffee black

Shachi & Bepo are 2 of 3 members of the Hearts without a caffeine addiction. Hakugan is the third

Penguin has given up trying to get Law on a schedule... It has never worked in their 13 years sailing together

Law had to implement a "no gambling on the tang" rule shortly after Hakugan joined; They were absolutely taking everyone else's money

Law does, however, actively encourage fleecing marines & rival pirate crews

The crew has picked up some Mink social behaviors! As such they're very physically affectionate... Yes, even Law. Though he tends to contain his affection to when they're in private or on the Polar Tang

It's super common to see the crew swap undershirts, jewelry, or other accessories

Bepo has a collection of his crewmates' shirts! Uni made it into a quilt for him since he can't exactly wear them properly

Everyone else has a "Bepo shirt"

Ikkaku tends to forget she's wearing hers while working on the Tang or to sleep then walks about. Whenever Bepo sees this he gets all flustered & teary-eyed

Law, similarly, wears his to sleep in regularly. He would rather be caught dead than wearing though. That's way too mushy for him.... but if there are days where he's still wearing it when Bepo comes to check on him in the morning, well, nobody has to know but them right?

Shachi & Penguin one time wore their Bepo shirts and attempted to force Bepo into their shirts which... obviously did not fit. Undetered they stitched the two together to the ultimate-bros-shirt. Bepo loves this shirt & wears it regularly.

Shachi & Penguin remake this shirt whenever the old one starts wearing down or falling apart every few years

(I took this one from a fic cuz I thought it was just so good) Between more junior members of the crew, it's a running gag that Law, Shachi, & Penguin are more "lesser mink" than "human" after 13 years with Bepo.

Law finds this absolutely hysterical, Bepo says they're all lesser minks

Law is, in fact, capable of a variety of animal noises such as growling, hissing, or purring. He normally makes this noises on accident when startled or particularly relaxed. He did not intentionally learn to make these noises. He was just an incredibly weird child and like many weird children before and after him, mimicked animals

Shachi & Penguin may or may not make fun of him for this

They may or may not have started the rumor that one of Law's parents was a mink; a rumor that Law has unintentionally perpetuated with his general wet cat behavior

Penguin's family were whalers! He uses a harpoon & is a fantastic fisher as a result

The above makes him Clione's favorite

Penguin often threatens Shachi with the harpoon so he may join his bretheren. Shachi shrieks back that orcas are not whales but dolphins. This is a near weekly song & dance.

Each of the "core four" have a way to show they accept a newbie into the crew!

Shachi carves a little wooden animal

Penguin embroiders their name inside their boiler suits

Bepo trades clothes with them

Law procures a custom mug decorated to their taste

Law normally gives his first, actually. Firstly, if he invited you to his crew he already likes you well enough. Two, he knows he can be an unapproachable dick and sees it as a bit of a peace offering. Three, to show the rest of the crew this new person is approved!

Shachi & Penguin gives theirs whenever they feel the new member has "earned" it. Normally 2nd/3rd in whatever order they deem.

Bepo basically always gives his last. He's a very anxious lil guy and doesn't want to disturb or weird anyone out.

Jean Bart is, ironically, the only crew member to not have concussed himself on the doorways in the Tang

Law had a few problem years after his sudden growth spurt, but it hasn't been a problem since he got used to being taller

After reuniting on Zou there was a crew wide cuddle puddle

Law is surprisingly tactile so long as it's on his terms. A head pat there, brushing his hands against a cheek or shoulder there... That kind of thing

This is generally the best indicator of how much he actually likes you

Law often stims using Bepo's fur or paws. Bepo loves this very much

[slushiecookie]

TW: Gore! (Acid Scars!)

Another SYMMETRY post! ^^ this time introducing one of the contestants:

Tambourine.

Age: 40.

Gender: Male.

Occupation: Orthodontist.

Blue Light.

Tamby was a humble, shy, quiet dentist who was loved by his patients for being patient and gentle. He wasn't only good with other objects, but his skill was one of the best in the city. However, this positivity is strictly monitored by him, and he doesn't want anything to taint his reputation. Tamby can be a bit serious, occasionally taking a teasing joke to heart and holding a very long grudge against the object who said it. He had a loving wife and wanted kids in the future, having enjoyed his interactions with child patients he worked on.

Tamby wanted to join the game to earn more money to provide for his future children and the wife he loved. He determined that while he wasn't very skilled in survival in the woods, a few days of training and his medical knowledge would come in handy.

With that out of the way, onto the piece! I don't see this as spoilers since Tambourine replaces Yin Yang from the old SYMMETRY ^^

For those who don't know, Yin Yang got sprayed with acid in the original, and I wanted to keep that cause it looks cool lol, and while the kunai probably won't be Tambourine's weapon of choice, I thought it would be cool to show it off <D

I wanted the wound to be more realistic and stuff, so I imagine that this is what he looks like after months of no proper medical care and being stuck on and island having to kill objects, the dead skin is scraped off and the flesh exposed though not bleeding. And I also thought of how thin the.... drum...? Of a Tambourine is, so I imagined the acid to have gone straight through his eye and burn a hole in his head!

Oh and the skin around his former eye is probably infected and stuff, and probably having the onset of necrosis so I put some green and black stuff in there that really shouldn't be!

(It's also kinda a redraw of the really really old image on the right! The one of Yin Yang :'>)

[contentloadingandstuff]

Lisa, Kujou Sara and Ningguang caring for a sick S/O

A/N: Just some short and silly headcanons since I'm a little ill. The characters were picked by The Wheel. Don't ask why ALF is on the cover.

Lisa

"Don't worry, sweetie. Mommy Lisa will take very good care of you~" 

Enough said, Lisa is an expert at potion crafting. As soon as she notices you're sick, you'll have one of her most effective tinctures delivered to you in no time. It's bitter, but it will help - you'll be frolicking again in just a few days. If it helps, she'll be more than happy to spoon feed it to you! 

Nothing helps the body quite like a rich broth. Add some chicken, boil with carrots and top it off with some fresh marjoram straight from the windowsill, and viola - just like that you have yourself a tasty revitalizing soup. Lisa doesn't like eating meat, but she knows how important proteins are for recovery. 

Tending to you is a great opportunity to pamper the absolute life out of you. Tissues and medicine? Right on the spot. Feeling peckish? Here, let her feed you. Thirsty? The best tea will be brought directly to you. Sleepy? Lisa will tuck you in, or let you rest your head on her thighs if you want to. You will have everything you need and even more without having to move an inch. 

Lying in bed is important - it lets your body sleep and regain strength. Still, boredom strikes sometimes. Lisa will provide you with a few books from her personal collection. If you're too tired to read yourself, she will do it out loud. Her narration skills are really something special, and will keep you entertained for hours on end, or until you doze off in her caring arms. 

Kujou Sara

“The medic will be here shortly. Do you need tea or a cold compress?”

Although Sara isn’t well-known for her caring nature, she really does worry about you. Inazuma’s climate tends to be quite harsh, with all the frigid sea winds blowing through the islands day by day. Even a minor ailment can quickly turn into a long-term illness in these conditions, so she will convince you to stay home when the first symptoms appear.

If you work in the military, your leave will be signed by her without further issues. If you’re working in the civilian market, however, she won’t restrain from using her position to ensure your leave is approved by your boss. Because who in their right mind would argue with the Tengu General herself?

It has been some time since the conclusion of the Inazuman civil war, so most work regarding that period is far behind her. Sara’s general duties revolve mainly around paperwork - reading through inventory reports, approving funding requests and purchases as well as some officer training meetings every now and then. Thanks to that fact, she can work from home and keep an eye on you.

Sara isn’t the best of cooks, so most meals will be handled by your maids. This doesn’t mean she won’t contribute to your recovery. She will check up on you frequently, whether to see if you’re taking your medicine correctly, or just to keep you company.

Of course she will call a physician to examine you, and buy all the necessary medicine - she has an immense pile of money saved up due to her fairly modest lifestyle. 

One thing though - she’s sleeping on the couch. Sara can’t afford to get ill herself, even if it means forcing you to recover in a cold bed. Don’t you worry, she will give you more than enough affection to make up for that shortage once you’re back in full health. 

Ningguang

“Don’t worry, my dear. You will get better soon. Meanwhile, why don’t you try another cup of tea? I am sure it will help.”

Ningguang is a busy woman who has no time for sickness. But you? She’ll make sure you get the proper rest, else your weakened body will fall to another illness. There will be no work for you until you are fully recovered - just like Sara, Ningguang will not hesitate to pull a few strings to make sure you can rest without worry.

Baizhu will deliver only his best products, as money is hardly a concern for Ningguang. Every Mora used to help you get better is a Mora well-spent in her eyes. 

Although not a doctor by any means, Ningguang will use some homemade remedies as well - especially white tea with two spoonfuls of honey. The warm sugary drink will surely bring back your strength in no time… or at least lift your spirits. 

She will check up on you from time to time, yes, but will not take a day off. Liyue needs her, and there’s always money to be made. 

Ningguang will make sure to keep her distance - even if it is just a cold, it could affect her as well and make her work that much more annoying. That means no cuddles until you’re healthy - but, with the best medicine money can buy, you’ll be in her arms in no time.

Thanks for reading!

[skyseoroundtable]

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[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 5

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Burning Hearts Chapter 5: Reclaiming Energy

— — 

It had nearly been a month since Law had begun training Daisy. Six days a week they would meet in the clearing to spar. He pushed her further each time, but she was still holding back her strength by refusing to use her devil fruit powers. Her powers only revealed themselves when she lost control of her body and mind. 

That was how he lost his eyebrows a few weeks ago. After Law brought up her previous captor, she had blacked out with emotion and didn’t remember the moment where fire sprayed from her lips and singed his face. Daisy passed out immediately afterwards and had to be carried back to the base. Law never brought it up. 

“Hmm…” Law is alone in his office and perusing the large bookcase that housed thousands of medical journals and historical texts. 

“Aha.” Law grabs a particular dusty, tattered tome from the bottom shelf of the bookcase and carries it back to his desk. He gingerly sets the delicate book down on his desk and flops down in his chair. He rolls the desk chair inwards and wipes the layer of dust off the cover of the book with the sleeve of his yellow hoodie. He opens the book. 

The cracking sound of the spine ricochets off the cold steel walls of Law’s office and he peruses the yellowed pages. It was a book on Devil Fruits, but ones that were only theorized to exist. This book was far different from his other texts on Devil Fruits. This one was much older and much less precise. The book was full of crude, handmade drawings and scribbles from its author. None of these fruits were confirmed to have ever existed, but Law was determined to find out what kind of Zoan type could breathe fire and fly. 

Law sifted through the brittle pages trying to find an answer, but soon felt the lack of sleep catching up with him. How long had it been since he had laid in his bed and indulged in a full nights sleep? Days? Weeks?

“Ugh…” Law leans back in his chair and rubs his eyes. He flops his arms down on the sides of his chair and lets his eyes rest for just a moment…

*Knock knock* 

Law is jostled out of his relaxed state by a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” Law calls out as he pushes his hair off his forehead and straightens himself in his chair. 

“Hi.” Daisy smiles as she enters Law’s office. 

“Hi back.” Law responds. “Is there something you need?”

“Well…” Daisy slinked quickly from her place in the doorframe to the side of Law’s desk. “That depends… is there something you’d like to give me?” 

“What?” Law knits his brows, confused. 

Daisy runs her hand along Law’s desk before taking a step towards him. 

“I think you know what I’m talking about…” The tone in Daisy’s voice was unlike anything he had ever heard before. 

*woosh*

Suddenly, in a flutter of wings, Daisy had landed herself directly onto Law’s lap, straddling him. She smiles softly and brings a hand up to caress the side of his face. 

“Don’t you want to touch me, Law?” Daisy purrs down at him from his lap, dark black wings framing her feminine figure. 

“M-miss Rito this is highly unprofessional… I-I-“ Law stutters out from underneath the demon. "I-I could never..." Law trips over his words, flustered by the beautiful woman on his lap...

“But Law…?”

“Law?” 

“Captain? Law?” 

Law was snapped awake. He dozed off. He had been dreaming. Bepo was shaking him awake with a large paw. 

“What, what do you want?” Law snaps once he has fully regained consciousness. 

“Captain… you received a letter… it’s from the Marines…” Bepo holds out an envelope, so small-looking in his clawed paw. 

“The Marines? How did they find us?” Law asks as he grabs the letter and begins tearing it open. 

Law peruses the letter. 

There was a long moment of silence as he processed the message. 

“Pack my bag. I have to go.” Law finally remarks. 

“O-on your own, Captain? Surely you’ll want me to accompany you?” Bepo asks. 

“No. I don’t want any of you involved in this. I have to do it alone.” Law states as he begins packing up his things around his office. “Ready the Tang. I’ll be gone for awhile.” 

— — 

You had been called to the conference room by the teams captain along with the entire Heart Pirate crew. You sat, bored, in a chair against the wall while waiting for Law. The captain finally enters and the rest of the crew straightens their postures and looks on attentively. You continue to slouch as you observe the dirt in your fingernails and pick it out with your teeth. 

“I have to leave on business. It will be at least a few weeks. I will answer no questions as it is a sensitive matter.” Law states as he stands in the front of the room. You roll your eyes. *he’s so dramatic* 

“Well! See ya! Have fun!” You rise from your chair and move towards the door of the conference room. 

“Daisy you will continue your training in my absence. I expect to see an improvement in your skills when I return. That is an order.” Law raises his voice at you.

“Whatever.” You pull at the side of your mouth and stick your tongue out. Law scours at your silly expression. You turn and push your way out of the conference room. You swiftly bring yourself down the halls of the base. 

“Finally a moments peace…” You grumble to yourself as you enter your stateroom. You swiftly pull your grungy sweatshirt over your head and throw it on the floor.  Flopping back on your bed in your shorts and sport bra, you take in a deep breath. Having that shit-head death doctor gone for awhile would give you time to do your own thing… reclaim your identity. You knew you had to keep training, but tomorrow you were going to focus on yourself. 

— — — 

“That should be enough…” You mutter to yourself as you fill your backpack with sample jars and vials. After being on this island for a month, you learn that it is fact not a winter island, but one with all four seasons. The signs of spring were blossoming all around the compound. The snow was melting and intrepid little green buds popped up from the dirt. 

Law was gone and you had plans to fly the coop… literally and figuratively. 

You leave your room and head towards the front door of the base. “Woooaaahh. Where’s the fire, Daisy?” 

You were stopped in your tracks by Penguin. 

“Heading out for a bit. See you at dinner.” You respond and push past him. 

“Not like, out of the compound, right? Captain said to not leave…” 

“Are you going to stop me? I mean, try. Be my guest. I’m going to go where I want.” You reply as you grip one of your blades with your right hand. 

“I-I- I mean no, I mean yes…” Penguin stuttered and slowly backed up a few steps. “J-just be back for dinner? Please?” 

“Got it. Back by supper.” You nod and head out the door before waiting for a response. You head out into the fresh air and relish in its humidity and warmth. Spring was here, your favorite season. The smell of damp soil and salt spray filled your nostrils. You breathed deeply and sighed happily. 

You spread your wings and stretched them tentatively. 

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” You smile and spring up into the sky. 

— — —

After spending the whole day exploring the island and collecting plants and ingredients, you returned to the Heart Pirates base. Humming happily to yourself, you pruned off the dead leaves from the bouquet of spring flowers you collected. 

You knock at Ikkaku’s door. 

“Yeah?” You heard from the other side of the steel door. 

“Hey hey, happy tulip season!” You grin as you present the bouquet. 

“Woah! You found these here?! They’re gorgeous!” Ikkaku takes the flowers and inhales their scent. 

“Yeah, other side of the island. They’re coming up a bit early, but it was nice to see. I got some bulbs that I’ll plant in the yard… but I saw the buds coming up and thought you’d like them!” You coo while you preen the tulip bouquet in Ikkaku’s hands. 

“Thank you for these, it’s nice to have a feminine touch around here.” Ikkaku smiles warmly at you before moving to place the flowers a glass of water on her desk. 

“You’re welcome. It’s time we brighten the place up a bit.” You chuckle and turn to leave the room. “Hey I wanted to ask you something…”

“Yeah?” Ikkaku looks up from her flowers to meet your gaze. 

“That record player in the hall closet, can I use it?”

Ikkaku furrows her brow. 

“It’s Law’s. He said it belonged to an old friend, but he hasn’t ever used it. I’m sure it would be good for the thing to get a bit of play. Since the captain will be gone for awhile, I’d say now is the time to give it some use.” 

You smirk.

“Perfect.” 

— — — 

You place a record on top of the machine and fumble around with the dials. 

“Come on…” You mumble as you fiddle with the needle of the record player. You use your other hand to move the poor old snail that was used to amplify the music of the record player. 

After a few moments of adjustments, the music began to flow loudly out of the snail’s shell. 

You smile. 

“Much better.” 

You do a little spin to the music before you grab your sample jars and dump them out into a bin on the floor. Red flower petals filled the bin as you added other ingredients to the concoction. You hummed along to the music as you continued your ministrations. 

After adding some liquids to the bin, you stirred it and made sure the color was to your liking. You assured that the pot was filled with the correct shade of red before heading to your closet and retrieving the untouched Heart Pirate uniforms that Law had given you. 

You unfolded the jumpsuits before plunging them into the homemade dye. 

You hum and sway your hips to the music coming from the record player. 

“I’ll show you a fucking uniform…” 

— — — 

After hours of soaking in the bin, you clip your new bright red jumpsuits to the clothesline in the yard. You couldn’t help but smile looking at the defaced uniforms. You head back inside the base and go towards the kitchen. 

You open the double doors to the galley and head to the pantry. 

“Flour and water… they have to at least have that…” You mumble to yourself. 

You find what you were looking for and combine the two to begin to form a rough, shaggy dough on the kitchen island. After kneading the dough into a loaf, you leave it to rest on the counter. 

With the bread rising and your new jumpsuits drying, you take yourself to your room to take a nap. Now that Law was gone, you could finally relax. 

— — 

Hours later, you place the bread in the oven and head out to grab your dyed jumpsuits. You see the gorgeous red color of the coveralls and feel satisfied… but the new issue was the large Heart Pirate logo on the back. 

You grab the sewing kit from your backpack and get to work. 

— — 

“Dinner’s on!” You call out from your place at the stove. You had been using your freshly baked bread to create piles of grilled cheese sandwiches. 

Quickly, the Heart Pirates poured into the kitchen and were met with loud music and a large plate of hot sandwiches. 

“Grab one before they get soggy. I’m making more now.” You huff out with a fat joint between your lips. 

The crew was hesitant accepting a meal from a stranger, but eventually they all grabbed a plate and sat down at the galley table. You continued flipping sandwiches on the stove.

“Now girl, what the hell are you wearing?” Ikkaku asks, eyeing you up and down. 

“You don’t like it? I made it myself. Think it suits me better.” You peek over your shoulder and gesture at the large logo on the back of the jumpsuit. The cream colored outfit was now bright red. You had sewn fabric and thread over the logo to add a makeshift straw hat over the Heart Pirate Jolly Roger. Ikkaku gives you a warning glare. 

“What… what is this…” Bepo asks… hands shaking over his plate. 

“Its a grilled cheese, Bepo… You’ve never had one?” You look up and stare at the polar bear. 

“It’s… it’s so wonderful….” Tears begin to form at the corner of the bear’s eyes. 

You laugh. 

“Bread is good. Don’t listen to your idiot captain. You’re missing out on so many beautiful sandwiches. Eat the grilled cheese. It’s good for you.” You chuckle and plate more sandwiches upon the kitchen island. 

The Heart Pirates greedily gobble them up as soon as you set them down. 

“You better not keep this up, or they aren’t going to want to let you go.” Ikkaku laughs without a mouthful of grilled cheese as she nudges your shoulder. The large man you had come to know as Jean Bart asked you to prepare more grilled cheeses. You obliged happily. 

You smile back at Ikkaku silently. You’d never stay here. There wasn’t anything that would make you want to stay. You missed home. 

— — — 

After a few days of Law’s absence, you begin to bring the outdoors indoors to make yourself more at home. 

With each passing day, more and more potted plants and vines began appearing around the Heart Pirate’s base. 

“Hey hey hey what are you doing in here?!” Shachi asks as you enter the room he shares with Penguin. 

“Bringing you a houseplant. It smells like desperation and an armpit in here, I think you two could use some extra oxygen.” You remark as you drop off a large snake plant in the corner of their room. “At least try to water it… it’s almost impossible to kill but I don’t put anything past you two.” You turn to leave the stateroom. 

“Hey wait!” Shachi calls after you. 

You swivel to face the man in the orca whale hat. 

“Yes?” You respond. 

“I hear you were growing something… else…” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Did you want to smoke, Shachi? I won’t tell your captain.” You cock your head from the doorframe. 

“Do I ever!” Shachi jumps up like an excited child and follows you out of his room. 

— —

xx

Authors Note: SORRY FOR THE TEASE IDK UGH. D Girl hasn't figured it out yet. She still hates Law OOPS. Law comes home during the next chapter, will he be understand or rigid when it comes to Daisy?

Send me DM's with more ideas. Love yall :)

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — LION TAMING (MOIRA X READER).

#. synopsis! — here you are again. there she is. but at what cost? and just who has she become while she's been so far away? and worse yet, what happens if it just doesn't seem to matter?

#. characters! — moira .

#. warnings! — angst, explicit and substantial age gap, mentions of bodily wounds + war .

#. word count! — 4.4k .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

It’s been a long time since you last saw Moira, —before the fall of Overwatch, before the world divulged into more madness than anyone knew what to do with. It’s been years since you were taken off duty, but not a day has gone by that you haven’t felt like a soldier. Wherever you go, the memories linger, and they tie you down like cinder blocks always trapped around your feet. You’ve tried therapy and medications, yoga and meditation; even flew out to some tropical island unmarred by the vestiges of war for a while, only to find that it wasn’t a matter of where you were or what you were surrounding yourself with.

No, in the bitter end, the truth was that it was you.

You and your mountain of feelings that no psychologist could shave down, because you didn’t know where to begin. You and the itch that lingered during times of peace, because you yearned for conflict, even if you’d spent too much of your life now trying to snuff it out. You and your incessant inability to thrive without feeling like a time bomb.

Now, the scientist you first met when you were both younger and a bit less wise, stands before you. . . Or, above you anyway, leering down at your form, taking your face in as if she’s trying to recall where she knows you from. She’s as intimidating as ever, those sharp, dual-colored eyes and that scarily pointed stare directed right at you. Once upon a time, it felt nice to be the center of her attention. You were fresh faced and newly twenty one, and she was a few years over forty, though she didn’t look it. You stood with your back painfully straight, posture perfect, eyes directly ahead, and she’d seen right through all the training and the uniform you wore with such a stupid amount of pride.

Her tone is much the same as it was back then as she leans down now, crouching at your side.

“Long time no see, luch beag.”

You can’t help but scowl at the nickname. You never protested it before, content to be her precious, foolish little mouse when the barracks got too full for your liking and you’d shack up with her in the Overwatch laboratories. She’d go on and on about new discoveries and shimmering breakthroughs, —and you’d sit there on the edge of her desk, just listening and nodding along. Your skills were in reconnaissance, mostly, though you had an okay eye for sniping if it came down to the wire, and your close combat was acceptable in spite of its mediocrity. A few times, you’d even done espionage missions with varying degrees of success. All of that to say: Moira’s work was above your pay grade.

Still, you never minded giving her an audience. She was good at putting on a show, so endlessly enthusiastic about her work and all the ways she was bending the world around her. You wish she’d have been even half as enthusiastic about the way she wore you down.

“Talon?” You question, venom in your tone. “Really?”

You’re disappointed, but can’t say you’re surprised. Moira always had an uncanny ability to move through the world like it was hers to mold and snap and kiss just right under dim computer lights—

“Spare me the lecture,” she answers bluntly. “You’re hardly in any position to be passing judgement.”

Her eyes trail from your face to the wound you’re clutching on your abdomen. When the first of many explosions had gone off, you’d been separated from the rest of your group. It was some stupid vigilante sector working to take back control of Oasis. A pointless pipedream, and you knew it, but you needed the rush, needed to be out on the field again, working, doing something. Discharge had left you stir crazy, and you were done trying to find yourself in tattered self-help books that insisted drinking more water and spending more time with the friends you didn’t have would make you happy enough to leave this life behind you.

That was the problem, really. . . You didn’t want to leave it behind. You liked the adrenaline and the thrill of knowing your life was on the line, and even now, with some big chunk of metal embedded in your stomach, you enjoyed this. In some strange, twisted way, this was where you felt at home.

“You never did know when to quit,” she tells you, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.

“Oh, and you do?” You retort.

Her smirk fades, and you almost wish you hadn’t said that.

“I at the very least have a sense of self-preservation,” she answers plainly. “Something you still seem to lack. Severely.”

“Whatever, Moira,” you mutter, letting your tired head drop back onto the rubble behind you.

“Very mature,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

Even now, a part of you wants to lick it off.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

You huff a little, staring up at the late evening sky. Stars have timidly begun to emerge from behind whisping clouds, and you’re reminded that this little unit you traveled here with couldn’t have cared less about you. They held no loyalty to you. You were expendable. . . And worst of all, you don’t even have the energy to be upset about it.

“Like a six,” you shrug.

You’ve definitely been through worse.

She raises a brow, reaching out to gently pull your hand away. The jostling, slight as it may be, makes you wince.

“Okay, Jesus, maybe a seven,” you correct, taking a sharp breath in.

The air is chilly against your skin, and especially so against the jagged gash in your clothing that gives way to the explosion’s cruel momento lodged in your skin. Moira’s nimble fingers gently explore the area, making use of whatever shreds of daylight are left. A sizable piece of metal is embedded in your stomach, roughly an inch above your belly button. The wound is angry and inflamed with dry blood crusting around the edges. She doesn’t ask how long you’ve been stuck here, and you’re trying not to think about it.

Moira sighs in both frustration and what you can only assume is concern. Maybe it’s all frustration and you’re just holding onto the past, —but either way, she looks toward your face again to speak.

“It’s obviously not fatal, but I can’t imagine it feels very nice,” she states.

“No, it feels like there’s metal in my stomach,” you answer sarcastically.

“Lovely to see your sense of humor hasn’t gotten any better since we last spoke,” she comments.

“Oh, so sorry,” you roll your eyes, “it’s just that if I laugh, I think this fucking thing might puncture one of my kidneys.”

“Small intestine would be more likely.”

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling, and once again you’d really like to think there’s something just short of fondness flashing in her eyes.

She moves with clinical precision, checking you over, trying to do as little damage as possible in the process.

“You always did have a knack for finding trouble,” she comments, tone a curious blend of amusement and camaraderie.

For a minute, it’s almost too easy to pretend like you’re still that young recruit seeking shelter from your training and the gossip of the barracks in her lab, or the corporal who snuck away to lie in her bed at night. Those were really the glory days, —when your life was always in the balance, hanging by a thread, waiting to be snapped by either an enemy bullet or a quick slice from one of Moira’s long, pointed nails.

“Trouble has a way of finding me,” you muse, offering a half-hearted shrug that sends a twinge of pain bursting through your abdomen.

You grimace, then find your voice again.

“I’m just trying to keep it entertained.”

She laughs, low and from the chest, shaking her head.

“You’ve certainly excelled at that,” she remarks.

There’s a brief silence as she continues to check you over, assessing the damage. As she so gracefully pointed out just a bit ago, it’s not fatal. It’s not deep enough to leave you bleeding out, —but it damn sure doesn’t feel nice. Aside from that, you’re no doctor, but you’re pretty certain a wound like this open in a war-torn city is just a recipe for utter disaster, especially given its placement.

“So then,” she muses, “how’d you get yourself in this position?”

“Take a wild guess,” you reply, gesturing to the blown up buildings and roadways around you.

“That much is obvious,” she answers. “I’m asking why you’re even here in the first place. You must know how dangerous this area is. I’d like to think you’re not naive enough to have been working with that ragtag bunch of so-called rebels.” 

You frown. It’s hard not to when you know she’s right. You’re better than this, —better than putting your neck (and apparently your abdomen) on the line for people who would leave you behind without a second thought. Nobody came back for you. Either they all failed and were blown to pieces in record time, or they’d gone on without you and couldn’t have cared less about the person they left sifting through the wreckage to survive.

“We all make choices,” you mumble bitterly.

“Clearly. I just never pegged you as someone who’d make such a stupid one.”

You don’t answer.

“Did you really miss all of this so horribly? Enough to come out here, underprepared with a pack of morons who don’t have two braincells to rub together between them?” She questions.

“I needed something,” you snap a little. “I was losing my mind. Call me what you like, but I’d rather be here with this shit stuffed in my gut than be back home doing nothing. It doesn’t even matter what I’m fighting for anymore, just as long as it scratches the itch. I thought the chaos might give me some goddamn purpose, and I feel like you of all people should be able to understand that.”

She looks unimpressed by the reply.

“And now?” She presses. “Found your purpose, or just more chaos?”

You purse your lips into a tight line for a moment.

“Definitely more chaos, and not even the good kind,” you admit. “At this point, I’m less of a person and more of a walking disaster. Just a casualty of my own recklessness.”

Moira seems almost sympathetic as she regards you now, for whatever that’s worth coming from her.

“You’re not the first to fall for the high of it hook, line, and sinker, and you won’t be the last,” she says. “War has a dastardly way of distorting motivations. You’ve turned your personal desires into misguided ideals. But. . .” she pauses, offering you the slightest hint of a smile, “you’re still alive and breathing. That has to count for something.”

“Can’t say it feels like much right now,” you answer honestly. “Just look at me. A heartbeat away from strung out, left for dead by the same people I knew along would turn and run with their tails between their legs from the start. Some accomplishment.”

“Yes, well. . . I’m not sure I’m the right person to be offering you any comfort,” she stands to her full height again.

“I get it,” you reply. “You’re disappointed in the person I turned out to be. That makes two of us.”

Moira shakes her head.

“Let’s get you up.”

“Huh?” You utter, dumbfounded by the mere insinuation. “Up? Do I really look like I’m in any condition to be going anywhere?”

“Well I can’t very well kneel here and pull that thing out with my bare hands and no medical equipment, can I?” Moira questions in return.

“You could.”

“It would be foolish,” she states plainly. “In any case, will you be taking your chances here on your own, like this, or would you rather give yourself a fighting chance and come with me?”

“To where?”

“My laboratory,” she replies.

You’d have laughed if you’d been certain it wouldn’t drive that piece of metal into your small intestine.

“Talon gave you a laboratory?” You question. “And just what have you been up to for you to have worked your way into their good graces like that?”

“Nothing that proves to be of any concern to you,” she answers coldly.

Well then.

That’s certainly a far cry from the woman who used to enthusiastically usher you into her little realm in the late hours of the night to have you perch on the corner of her desk and listen as she rattled on and on about anything. It’s a far cry from the Moira who used to sneak her hands beneath your shirts just to feel the warmth of your skin beneath her palms.

“Are you coming with me, or would you prefer I leave you alone to lament in the rubble?”

The choice was easy. She helped you to your feet, let you lean on her slender (but surprisingly sturdy) shoulder, and by the skin of your teeth, you managed to make it back with her before that so-called seven rose to a ten. At the very least she had the decency to try and numb the area before carefully pulling the shrapnel from your gut and cleaning the unpleasant wound it left behind. You knew that look she wore on her pretty face and kept your mouth shut as she worked.

This new lab of hers is sterile, —a stark bit of contrast to the chaos outside. It’s hidden underground, but it was easy to forget that once you stepped inside with all the sharp, fluorescent lights that shone in the halls. The tech and machinery is wildly different to the type Overwatch had provided her with. You couldn’t be sure, but you were definitely willing to bet it was something close to state of the art. The air smells heavily of antiseptic now as she sits you up slowly, pausing when you wince as pain shoots through your abdomen.

Looking up at her now, there’s a clinical detachment that wasn’t there before, and you can’t say you like it.

Lost in the motions, she doesn’t seem to notice the way you stare, and you’re thankful for it. Her hands move with practiced precision, but you can’t shake the memories that have wriggled back up to swallow you whole, feasting like maggots on whatever rot she’s claimed inside you. You’re both different now, but this proximity, this touch, —her eyes raking over your skin. . . It all feels strangely familiar.

For the briefest of moments her eyes met yours, and you could almost swear you caught a glimpse of something beyond the stiff exterior she was presenting you with. Whether it was regret or desire, well, that was still up in the air. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced by the mask of composure she chose to don like armor, even in your presence.

“Try not to move too much,” she murmurs, those nimble fingers adorned by prettily painted nails tracing the edges of your jagged injury as she wound bandages around your waist.

The contact was cold and dispassionate, but you couldn’t shake the lingering sense of intimacy that persisted, dancing between what was and what could have been. Maybe if she’d stayed a little longer after Overwatch fell, things wouldn’t have ended up like this. Maybe if you’d been less destroyed by the disbandment, had perked up earlier, —things would have been different. But here you are, Moira nursing you back to health again. . . And it feels nice. As nice as it can be to have a woman you loved once (and quite possibly still do, albeit differently now) taking metal from your gash and patching you up in the wake of it.

There was tension now between yourself and her that just didn’t feel quite right. You felt the weight of all the loose ends you never thought you’d have the opportunity to tie up, and it made the silence all the more palpable.

“Do you ever miss it?” You inquire, though you’re not sure if it was spurred more by curiosity or by the desire to put a cap on the quiet. “The time before Overwatch fell.”

She pauses, in the midst of winding some unused bandage wrap back around itself to store it away.

“You know my opinion on that organization quite well,” she answers markedly.

She’s right. You do. Overwatch had provided you with an outlet, had awoken something difficult to manage inside you, —but something they fed so deliciously everytime they sent you out into the field. For Moira, though, she felt they stunted scientific progress and refused to let her ideas thrive, skimping on resources for the research and experimentation teams. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say she loathed Overwatch, and you always knew she wasn’t sad to see it go.

“So no,” she adds. “I can’t say that I do.”

It’s probably not as personal as you’re taking it, but hearing her say that really throws a wrench in the whole ‘I think I’m still in love with you’ thing you’ve got going on.

“Still,” you say, voice cautiously casual, “do you ever think about it?”

In the time it took you to find the nerve to speak again, she’d finished wrapping the bandage and had begun reaching for the kit she claimed it from.

“Nostalgia is a luxury we can seldom afford in times like this,” she comments. “And I prefer my conversations more to the point. Just what is it you’re trying so hard to ask without asking?”

Her response leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. The time before was far from perfect, but it was such a delicate mix of pain and pleasure. Now, it just feels far too much like Moira is determined to bury both beneath the rubble of the present.

“Just. . .” you hesitate, feeling the words die in your throat the minute she meets your eyes.

You swallow their corpses like bile and try again.

“What we had. . . Did it mean anything to you?”

Oh, joy. Now you’re fairly certain that you’re just coming across like some lovesick little girl who never got over her first crush. It’s embarrassing enough to make your insides churn a little, although thankfully only in a metaphorical sense, because you’re pretty sure that would have hurt fairly badly on its own, and that pain would only be amplified by the wound on your stomach.

“What we had?” She echoes, one of her thin brows arching.

A part of you is almost expecting her to laugh at you, but she doesn’t.

“It served its purpose,” she shrugs, tone even.

“And that’s all?” You press, even though sirens are going off in your brain, begging you to reel the conversation back in or try to steer it in another direction entirely.

There just has to be something more beneath the surface.

“We both got what we needed, did we not?” Moira questions. “You got to rest your weary head on a warm body, and I had someone to speak with, —even someone to take some frustration out on. Nothing more, nothing less.”

What she said was true, but it still made your chest ache to hear it out loud.

“And now?”

“Now what?” She inquires.

“What’s our relationship now?”

Moira pauses, her gaze lingering on your face as if she’s weighing her options in real time. The sterile air of the lab seems to thicken with your anticipation, and you brace yourself for her reply. 

“Now?” She muses, tone cool and detached. “We’re. . . Acquaintances, of a sort.”

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Acquaintances. It’s a word that feels more distant than the war-torn landscape outside, and it shreds your stupid little heart like it's been raked over a cheese grater. It fucking stings. A woman you used to run to seeking solace and what always felt like protection is now something less than even a friend. You’ve been reduced to some kind of footnote in her life story.

At this point, all your pride has gone out the window. Or, it would have done so if this place had any, but being underground, that wasn’t exactly a reasonable ask. Instead, it’s wilting in front of you like a discarded rose, shriveling up all the more when you decide to open your mouth again.

“Do you ever think about it? About me?”

Moira stills for a moment, as if the question caught her off guard.

“What’s there to think about?” She answered your question with one of her own.

“Us. What we had. How it felt.”

Silence lingers, stretching into uncomfortable territory before she finally fixes her tongue to say: “I try not to dwell on the past.”

She’s diplomatic, even in her evasivness.

“Dwell on me then,” you dare. “I’m here now, aren’t I? That’s hardly what I’d consider a thing of the past.” 

She busies her hands with something on a table nearby.

“I try not to dwell on any one thing for too long,” she revises. “Lots of things require my attention. Stagnancy is hardly a luxury I can afford.”

You can’t help it that her vague replies make you well up in frustration,

“You can’t just pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“I could,” she states, letting her gaze rise to snag yours. “But I didn’t. I told you; what happened between us served its purpose. Now, it’s time to adapt and move forward.”

“Adapt and forget?” You challenge.

“Adapt and survive,” she corrects.

“Neither of us are exactly the type to just want to survive and leave it at that,” you remind her. 

Moira drops the tool in her hand and looks at you pointedly. You flinch at the noise it makes as it clangs against the table.

“What exactly are you fishing for?” She questions, frustration seeping into her tone. “Some kind of senseless confirmation that you were more than just something familiar?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something like that,” you admit, and immediately a part of you wishes you hadn’t, and yet you continue. “Maybe I just wanna know that it meant something to you beyond serving a purpose.”

“You want to hear me say that I loved you.”

Your blood sort of runs cold, but you don’t bother to deny it. That is what you’ve been clawing for this whole conversation, —you just hadn’t expected her to put it so bluntly, even if that’s just within her nature. Still, there’s a vulnerability on her face that you hadn’t quite expected.

“Love. . . Love is a complicated word. It carries weight, and expectations, and a host of things we never explored. What we had was different. But in saying it’s different, I don’t diminish the significance. It’s a differentiation, but not one I feel matters more than the facts at hand. It was mutually beneficial, and I have a great deal of fondness for you as a result.”

“A deal great enough to think of me as an acquaintance,” you say.

“At the moment,” she states. “But in the past, which I’m still not keen to be dwelling on, —we were something more. I don’t let mere acquaintances sleep in my bed.”

“In the past,” you echo, seeming almost disenchanted by it all now.

“Things change,” she tells you. “You and I know that better than most. Circumstances evolve. I’m not negating or denying what we shared, —I’m telling you that the present demands a different perspective.”

That’s a hard pill to swallow, to say the least of it.

“So what now then?” You ask. “You stay here in this lab alone, and I go back out there? Maybe we cross paths every once in a blue moon, and we stay acquaintances forever?”

“If that’s what you need to give yourself some closure on the matter, then I suppose so,” Moira replies.

“I don’t need closure,” you tell her. “I don’t want it. What I want is. . .”

You pause. What exactly do you want? Something close to what you shared with her those few years ago? Something more, something less? Maybe it’s just that you miss the way she’d kiss you, because nobody has done it since then. Maybe you’re just touch starved and feening for the only woman who ever knew how to push all your buttons in all the right ways.

You swallow, steeling yourself to finish.

“What I want is you.”

Moira’s lips twitch into a small smile.

“You always were stubborn,” she notes.

“Only when it matters,” you reply, not bothering to bite back a grin.

“And you think it matters now?” She asks.

“I think it matters now more than ever,” you answer, tone earnest. “I miss what we had, Moira. I miss you.”

She studies you for a moment, as if she’s weighing the sincerity of your words. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“You do realize that things won’t be the same, correct?” She questions. “I don’t know where you’ve been or who you’ve become in the time we’ve spent apart. Not that I’m unwilling to learn, —just to say that it won’t be exactly how it was. Not now, not for quite a while, and perhaps maybe never.”

“I know things won’t be the same,” you confirm. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe this can be something better.”

Moira can’t deny that the possibility intrigues her. She loves a good hypothesis, after all. Her analytical mind seems to weigh the pros and cons, calculating the risks involved and the potential for something grander than what it once was at its inception. Something more than a stifled set of hookups and entangled nights. A hint of a smile graces her lips.

“I’m willing to take the risk if you are,” she concedes. “But I make no promises about the end result.”

You remove yourself from the table, feet hitting the cold floor of the lab, emboldened by the diluted pain and the urge to be closer to her now more than ever. She nearly opens her mouth to advise you to sit back down, but doesn’t in the end.

“I don’t need promises,” you insist, reaching out to take her hand. “I just need a chance.”

She smiles honestly, and it’s like watching all her sharp edges soften. Her free hand cups your cheek, cold to the touch even as it warms your heart. Her thumb caresses your skin gingerly as she leans down slightly, speaking softly.

“Granted.”

[missathlete31]

Someone In Your Corner

Summary: Hangman, struggling to deal with his nightmares after the mission, goes for a run in the California heat. When he gets himself into trouble he finds a surprising ally on his side.

Aka if Maverick is MavDad meet DaggerMom

Hey look, yet another Jake Seresin Whump/Angst fic….. also known as the only thing I know how to write lol! Enjoy!

Two week after the Uranium mission and Jake "Hangman" Seresin was struggling. The Navy had given them all a month's worth of leave, a ridiculously long time in Jake's opinion but extremely sought after for all the others. There was a mandatory week of debriefs and discussions, most of which Jake hovered in the back and only answered when he was addressed directly, but then they were free to go. The whole squadron seemed to have gotten plane tickets to head back home, the suicide mission making a lot of them place things in new perspective. Jake of course would rather perform ten suicide missions than even think about going home to Texas. Javy had invited him back to New Orleans with him and his family but Jake declined. He loved the Machados; he spent enough holidays over there to think of them as the closest thing he'd ever get to a real family, but he knew Javy was still shaken up from his G-Loc incident and the mission in general. He deserved a chance to decompress with his loved ones instead of trying to entertain Jake.

So Jake waved his best friend off at the airport on the third day after the start of their official leave and went back to the barracks to find a notice on his door. It seemed that the temporary living quarters they were supplied for training was being revoked now that everything was over. Jake had vaguely heard one of the others talking about it at the bar but he didn't realize it applied to those that weren't going home as well. He assumed he would be allowed to hang around base, maybe convince Admiral Simpson (or at least the more agreeable Admiral Bates) to let him jump into a few hops to keep his skills sharp. Those plans were scrapped though as both Admirals informed him in no uncertain terms that none of the Daggers would be allowed back in the air until they were given the all clear from both medical and psych. Jake was already cleared on the medical end but all psych evals were to be conducted after the team returned from leave. He wanted to push to get his moved up but Cyclone only gave him that un-amused look that he usually reserved for Maverick, and Jake figured it wasn't worth the fight (he was still on shaky ground for disobeying direct orders on the carrier that day- and for getting the rest of the flight crew to go along with him).

So now not only was Jake alone on North Island, he was also forced to find new housing. With no real other options, he checked into a random motel that was far from luxurious with its outdated decor and questionable activities for it's by the hour patrons. Jake found he didn't mind though as long as he used his own sheets. Also besides a few quick visitors a few doors down, Jake was virtually on his own in his section. This was a huge benefit for the blonde pilot as he found himself dealing with an added difficulty now that the mission was over: debilitating nightmares.

It was embarrassing for him to admit but Jake had always struggled with nightmares. As a child in an abusive household he was always so tense and on edge, especially at night after his father had had a couple of drinks in him, that he found his dreams were filled with running away from monsters that looked vaguely like his parents until he woke up screaming. After receiving punishments for waking anyone up with his pathetic cries, Jake learned to muffle his terror to much quieter levels, though the nightmares always held a grip on him for those formable years. As he got older and into his teen years, Jake's real world seemed to be worse than any dream ever could be and sadly that was what quashed his night terrors for a few years at least. When he left home and joined the Navy he felt freer than he ever had in the world and he finally learned what the term 'sleep like a baby' really meant.

It didn't last for long though because after his first confirmed kill, Jake's nightmares came back. He was forever dreaming of being back in his plane, sometimes shooting down the Bogey, other times the Bogey catching him first. He had nightmares where he shot his wingman down instead, his whole squadron condemning him for the action. Other times it would be his squad shot him down because they were protecting themselves from Hangman leaving them like his call-sign dictated. These dreams circled through Jake's sleep cycle for weeks until Javy caught on before he was sent to ship out again and noticed the dark bags under his best friend's eyes. Though Javy knew better than to push Jake towards any sort of professional therapy from the Navy that could ultimately keep him grounded, he did force his best friend to talk to him more about what was troubling him and to find healthy outlets for his anxiety, fear, and guilt. Jake's favorite method became running.

Jake already enjoyed running from when he was a kid and needed an escape at home so using it to relax from work stress as well came fairly easy. He took to jogging around bases in the morning, night or whenever he just felt a little overwhelmed. Javy would join him if he was able, though normally he cut out about half the miles while jokingly calling Jake a robot for being able to run so much. It was therapeutic and it worked, especially when he ran at night, as Jake felt his body become so tired he went off to sleep without any dreams at all.

But then this mission happened.

First it was Coyote's G-loc; the sounds of Maverick trying to stir his best friend back to consciousness before he crashed into a mountain staying with Jake even during waking hours. In dreams it was worse, Maverick never getting tone in time, Coyote's scream over the radio before he burned up in his jet. Jake would wake up each time with tears in his eyes and would struggle to not call his best friend right there and then. Jake also dreamed of the bird strike. Though he pretended to be indifferent, he really did care about Phoenix, she was one of his oldest friends, dating back to his Flight School days. That nightmarish day, after being so close to losing Javy, to then hear her and Bob forced to eject, it broke something in Jake. His dreams featured the two not ejecting in time, or sometimes different pilots were up there but with the same results. The worst nightmare was when Jake was in the air with them and he listened to Phoenix scream at him that because he left them hanging, the birds hit their plane instead of his. Both Bob and Phoenix's last words were wishing it was Jake instead. Maverick would share the sentiment on the radio as the two planes watched the other go down. When Jake woke from that particular dream, he usually felt so gutted all he could do was sit up in silence.

There were moments from the actual mission that attributed to his night terrors as well of course. First it was Dagger one going down, the others blaming Jake for not being good enough that Maverick had to take the spot of team leader to ensure the others survived and therefore sacrificed himself. Then he would hear Dagger Two going down and there was the guilt of having Bradshaw die after all the mean things Jake had said and done to him. But the worst was Jake's rescue of Maverick and Rooster. Jake couldn't count the times he would close his eyes (both awake and asleep) and see the damn missile that was headed right for that old F-14. He never told anyone outside of his debriefs with the Admirals but that missile was shot and deployed and not even seconds away from killing both Captain Mitchell and Bradshaw. He had had no time to spare.

Every night during the week of debriefs Jake would dream of being too late, of watching that missile kill his CO and his wingman in a fiery blaze as bright as the sun. Jake would be forced to call on the radio that he hadn’t reached them in time, would land on the carrier not to celebration and hugs but dirty looks and tears. One night the nightmare was so bad, felt so real, that Jake actually called Rooster just to hear his voice. The groggy other pilot thought it was some kind of joke and didn't respond incredibly kind but Jake hung up the phone with tears of relief in his eyes anyway. He would take a sarcastic Rooster over a dead one any day.

Last night Jake dreamed of the man he shot down. His second confirmed kill but it wasn't any easier. He dreamed of the man's family, his children growing up fatherless like Rooster did. A whole family lineage cursing him for taking away the man they loved most. When he woke up Jake only had a few seconds before he was puking in his toilet, no chance of falling back to sleep again. His count of hours slept in the week at a sickening level. He knew he should be worried, knew that he should address his problems with someone but everyone else was dealing and he didn’t understand how he couldn’t. He wasn’t one of the Daggers, he wasn’t the one completing the suicide course. He didn’t go into G-Loc or get hit with a bird strike. He wasn’t shot down and he wasn’t stuck behind enemy lines and scrambling to get home. Jake was just the spare; sure he had a lucky shot, but he did nothing more. He didn’t deserve to bother anyone with his lack of sleeping. He would get it sorted, just like he always did.

As the day progressed and Jake's lids got heavier he thought about his techniques to combat his nightmares in the past and looked for his running gear. He hoped to kill two birds with one stone, run enough to clear his mind but also to make himself so exhausted he would fall asleep right away. The pilot put on his sneakers and reached for headphones before heading out the door. He knew it was going to be hot but the minute he was outside he felt like a wall of humidity was surrounding him. It wasn't the ideal running conditions but Jake grew up in Texas where heat was a part of everyday life. He threw off his shirt knowing it would be soaked in a second and headed out.

—————————————————————————-

Penny Benjamin wiped another hand across her brow as she turned to another box. She knew she shouldn't have chosen Tuesday to do inventory especially when the weather forecasts all called for the height of the heat wave to hit, yet here she was sweating in the back rooms of the Hard Deck anyway. She wished Maverick was around to help, though he was abnormally chaotic in a tight setting, at least the man could have helped with the lifting. Pete however, had taken Bradley for a 'getting re-acquainted trip' aka a 'get our crap together' trip up in Northern California. Penny was so happy to see the two trying to make things right and she knew it meant the world to Pete.

It did leave her alone though and with all the other pilots of the squadron gone on leave and Amelia visiting her father, Penny hated the quiet. Even doing normal chores around the bar made her ache for the loud and boisterous group she had grown to love. She hoped they were at least all trying to heal like Maverick and Rooster. She wasn't given all the details from the mission but she knew there were a lot of close calls and that for everyone to return was lucky, bordering on miraculous. Penny felt lucky herself every time she got to see Pete's smile again.

As the morning progressed and the heat got too much Penny opted to go over some sales numbers and to save the inventory for later. Grabbing her books, she headed for her usual table outside, the umbrella giving only the most miniscule relief from the heat.

She looked up as she watched a man run on the beach. He looked vaguely familiar but it wasn't until he was a bit closer that Penny realized it was Hangman. She had been surprised this morning when she saw the man arrive at the beach to run. She had assumed Hangman like all the others had gone away for leave. Clearly this wasn’t the case as the pilot putt his ear pods in and started his jog just as she first opened up to do inventory. Penny glanced at her watch and saw it was close to an hour later then since she had first arrived, and yet Hangman was still running. A hint of worry bubbled in her stomach but she learned that Top Gun pilots tended to be work-out fanatics, Hangman no exception.

As the man neared, Penny raised her hand, "Hangman!" she called but she wasn't surprised when the man kept running, no doubt lost in his music and training. She watched him for a minute, not immune to admit that the sight of the muscular shirtless blonde running along the beach wasn't the worst thing she's laid her eyes on. She shook her head at her silliness and turned back to her sales book figuring she would chastise the man for ignoring her later when he came in for some beers tonight.

Thirty minutes later the same figured appeared for the third time since she sat outside and Penny's brow furrowed. She knew Hangman liked to run but this was getting a bit excessive. She was familiar with his two mile loop, she had walked it with Amelia many times herself, but never this many times, nor in this kind of heat. When she included the time she was in the basement, she knew Jake was running much more than was normal or healthy on a day like today. It was nearing noon, the heat for the day was at its worse and she had heard an air quality alert on the news this morning. Jake ran with no water bottle, no shirt and if she had to guess no sunscreen. He just ran, and ran, and ran.

Perhaps it was the mother in her or perhaps it was just the concern for a pilot she had grown to care about over the years, but Penny refused to let Hangman run past again without at least taking a little respite. She stood herself up from the table and headed towards the sand, waving a bit to not startle the runner. As she got closer she noticed Hangman's gait was off, he seemed to be listing to the side with each step. Her concern mounting, Penny hurried forward a little faster, her heart dropping when she noticed Jake had started to stagger. "Hangman you alright?" the barmaid hollered, but instead of a verbal response Jake fell to one knee. "Jake!" Penny called as she watched the blonde collapse complete to the ground. He landed face first in the sand and the older woman felt herself fall next to him, a gentle hand reaching for his shoulder to help roll him over.

The man lying before her looked so far from the Hangman she knew that Penny gasped. Jake's normally lively green eyes were closed, his skin pale and his breath raspy. She gently nudged his face, trying to stir some kind of reaction and felt her heart relax a fraction when Jake gave a low groan and took a wobbling hand to brush hers away.

"Hey Hangman you with me?" she tapped his cheek again, worry increasing when she felt how warm his body was and yet she didn't notice much sweat on his body. Familiar with signs of overheating but in no way a doctor, Penny looked back towards the Hard Deck and hoped to see someone around that could help her. Unfortunately it seemed they were alone. She turned back to the blonde and saw his eyes were still closed though his body seemed to want to move. “Jake honey, can you hear me?” she asked again.

“P-Penny?” Jake murmured and finally those green eyes were open if barely past slits. He seemed to take a good look at the woman leaning over him before all the rest of the color in Hangman’s face disappeared and he rolled over to his side. As he retched out what Penny disgustingly assumed was his breakfast, she tried to run a soothing hand over his back but again she faltered at how hot his body temperature seemed to be. She reached to pull him back to face her carefully, allowing his back to land back in a clean portion of sand before trying to meet his eyes, “Jake, you with me? Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah” he didn’t sound convincing, “’ll good.”

“I think you’re overheated, I need to get you inside.”

“No-“ he shook his head weakly, his voice low and gravelly, “-m fine…. Just-… just overdid it a bit. ”

Penny moved to brush back his damp hair from where it was plastered with sand to his forehead, “You really over did it, okay” she tried to give a reassuring smile but her concern was too great and it became more of a grimace, “you need to get out of this sun and get some water in you. You think you can stand?”

It didn’t look like Jake would be moving any time soon but when Penny gave him a small pull the pilot managed to follow the momentum enough to get himself standing. It wasn’t pretty and Hangman looked ready to puke again at least three different times, but he held it in and allowed Penny to throw his arm around her shoulders. The two took a moment to gain their balance before they started with small and slow steps all the way back to the Hard Deck.

The walk was long and tedious. With each step that they got closer Jake’s movements got sloppier and the weight Penny had to support seemed to double. When she finally got him inside, Penny deposited Jake to the nearest booth and ran for a cold water bottle and some towels. She ran them under the coldest water she could get and started to place them over Jake’s chest, his neck and his forehead. The man didn’t even flinch. “Keep those there” Penny ordered as she moved to grab more water bottles, “and take small sips of water.”

Jake tried to follow orders but when he moved his hands to open the bottle, they were shaking so bad he dropped it. He went to get his body to pick it up but instead he slid down to the floor, his back against the table’s leg. Penny heard the commotion and came running, finding the pilot out of it and on the floor of her bar. “Jesus Jake, I think we need to get you to the hospital” she told him, “This is way worse than over heating-“

“No” Jake shook his head, his eyes unfocused, “’m –ok-“

“Honey” she got him standing again, “no you’re not. Hang on, take a seat for a minute and let me get my keys. I have to lock up the basement and then I will take you.” She led him back towards the booths but didn’t wait for him to sit, instead running to her bag and car keys.

Meanwhile the blonde had teetered after her, following towards the bar and knocking over a stool followed by another, "shit” he cursed, “’m sorry. Y-you can just call m’ an uber" Jake slurred softly, now leaning heavily against the bar, “’t’s no bother.”

"Absolutely not, and I said to sit Jake" she ordered, manhandling him towards the booths, "sit before you collapse again."

"'M -fine-"

"No you're really not." Her eyes must have shown her anger and concern because Jake seemed to melt into the cushion of the seats. Penny gave a nod and then ran to lock up her basement door and lock the inventory room. When she got back to the bar she noticed Jake’s head was leaning down on the table. “Hangman?” she questioned, but the man didn’t stir, “Jake?” When she still got no answer, she hurried over and took one of the water bottles, emptying it over the man’s head in a frantic shake, “Lieutenant Seresin!” she yelled and was luckily awarded with a dazed Jake shaking his wet hair out in confusion. “-enny?” he murmured sleepily, “did it rain?”

“Something like that” Penny lied, moving to grab the man out of the booth once more and get him towards the exit, “now come on honey, we’re going to the hospital.”

“-Don’’ feel so g-good.”

“I know, but we’re going to get you all fixed up” she promised silently praying that she could deliver on such a statement. If she was honest with herself Jake’s condition was really starting to frighten her. He collapsed three times already, he threw up on the beach and his body temperature was frightening high. She had tried cold compresses but they didn’t seem to make a difference. He was incoherent and confused; his body a shaky and unstable mess when he was normally frighteningly in control.

They got to Penny’s car quickly; fortunately she parked in the closet spot this morning. She helped lay Jake out along the back seat, sparing a second to take a hand to his forehead where she still felt the heat radiating off his skin. She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, instead starting her car and cranking the A/C, hoping that it would help cool the pilot down.

For the first few minutes of the ride, Jake stayed silent and if it weren’t for Penny looking towards him in the rear view mirror every few seconds she would have thought he was unconscious or worse. Instead she watched as the man took shallow wheezy breaths, praying they get to the hospital quickly so he could get real help.

After a few more minutes of silence, Penny heard what sounded like a throat clearing in the back seat. Jake’s voice sounded fractured when he finally spoke up, "'why-you helpin' me?" he whispered from the back, 'm a bad person. A bad person with no one left.”

"No you're not honey" Penny immediately argued back, watching as Hangman’s eyes closed and his face scrunched up in pain, "you're a good person. I know that and so do the others."

"Asshole to them.... always a jerk..."

"I think they've started to see all that for what it is.” And she really believed that. The Hangman that strutted around the Hard Deck all these years was a show, meant for entertainment and for keeping people at arm’s length. Penny, no stranger at pushing people away herself, could recognize the signs easily though she knew it took the others a while to see. “You earned your teammates’ trust” she continued with what she hoped sounded reassuring. Jake didn’t seem to react to the words though, so Penny tried to push a bit more remembering what Maverick had told her the night he returned after the boat docked, about how Jake had saved his life, “you showed them the true Jake Seresin during the mission. They see it now.”

“They all left, ‘m alone again.”

“You’re not alone sweetheart”

“I should be, ‘ve killed people” Jake announced next and in the driver’s seat Penny stilled. It’s not that she doesn’t know this fact, she’s heard Hangman address it before but hearing Jake speak the words so matter of factly while he himself was so broken, exhausted and barely conscious, Penny’s heart clenched. “You were just doing your job, Jake, it’s different.”

“No” he shook his head minutely, “’t’s not.” He sniffed back what sounded like a sob, “can’t sleep, just see it again and again… All my mistakes... all the early graves… all my fault.”

“Nothing was your fault Jake, you saved lives that day. You saved Maverick and Rooster-“

“see them die every night…. ‘m pathetic-“

“No you’re not, you’re so brave honey” she felt a tear fall down her cheek as Jake let out another raspy sob, “so, so brave.”

“’ can’t even sleep anymore” Jake moaned, “just wanna sleep-“

“We can get you help for that” she urged, “there are people that can help-“

“No one can ‘elp me” his head lulled to the side, “I…can’t be fixed.”

There was so much Penny wished to say, so much she wished to correct but before she got the chance she was pulling into the emergency driveway entrance of the hospital and screeching her brakes to a halt behind an empty ambulance. “Please!” Penny hollered from her window at the two paramedics heading out the exit doors. Both stopped and looked her way, “please I need help” she urged to them.

The two women hurried forward, following Penny’s directions to the back seat, “he’s in rough shape, can you help me get him inside?”

“I’ll get the backboard and gurney” the younger of the medics announced, running back to her rig. When she returned the three women were able to lift Jake up and onto it, the two medical professionals beginning to wheel him inside, Penny hot on their heels.

“Ma’am you can’t leave your car here” the security guard tried but Penny ignored it and just continued to follow the gurney wheeling Hangman further into the hospital. Getting a ticket was the least of her worries, even getting towed. All she cared about was making sure the blonde pilot in that bed got the care he needed.

She followed them through into the emergency room where Jake was taken into a corner make-shift room with curtains closing it off. A nurse started asking Penny questions about Jake’s age, medical history, and if he had any allergies. She tried to answer to the best of her abilities but the truth was she didn’t really know. Jake Seresin had been coming to the bar for years but Penny couldn’t even tell the hospital if he was allergic to peanuts yet alone any medication he was on; she just never bothered to get to know him that well. She vowed if they got through this debacle, she would find out, resolved to pester Jake with so many questions he would have no choice but to tell her everything. She looked forward to it with a spark of hope.

Suddenly an older man came forward from the other side of the curtain, ripping it open with an intern on his heels, “What do we have?” he asked, not looking away from his patient on the bed.

“32 year old white male, fading in and out of consciousness, feels excessively warm to the touch-“

The doctor sighed and put on his glasses, his thinning hair reflecting the light as he knelt down on his work stool, and started to lightly examine Jake’s face and chest, “what’s his name?”

When no one else replied Penny realized the question was addressed to her. She swallowed her nerves, “Lieutenant Jake Seresin” she told him.

“Navy?”

“A Navy pilot, yes.”

“Why did you bring him here, shouldn’t he be on base?”

Penny shrugged, realizing she never even thought about taking Jake back to North Island, her mind just drove them to the first hospital she could think of, “this was closer” she explained instead.

The doctor hummed but continued his examination, “okay Lieutenant can you hear me?” when the blonde gave no response, the doctor turned to one of the nurses, “get me a temperature reading now” he ordered.

“Right away Doctor” and the nurse hurried to get the thermometer.

“What happened to him?” the ER doctor asked, shining a pen light as he used a hand to hold open Jake’s eye lid.

“He collapsed on the beach,” Penny supplied dutifully, still watching with what felt like a heavy weight on her chest, “he had been running and I think he might have over heated-“

“In this heat, I’m not surprised. Order a toxicology report, I don’t like his pupil dilation.”

Penny felt her temper flare, “He wasn’t drinking” she shot back, “he’s exhausted.”

“Let’s take the family out of the room-“ the doctor also added, rolling his eyes to his staff. As a nurse went to remove her, Penny listened as another rattled off Jake’s temperature. The minute his nurse was done saying 105 degrees, the ER doctor began sprouting commands, his voice a lot more concerned and worried than it were not two minutes ago. Penny knew 105 was dangerous, even deadly, but seeing doctors and nurses run in frantically made the woman more scared than she could ever remember being in her life. A curtain was pulled and her view was gone, and Penny felt her heart stutter as she wondered if that was to be the last time she would ever see Jake again. What if he died? What if she was too late getting him help, waited too long in the bar locking up a damn inventory closet when she should have been calling an ambulance and getting the poor man help. Her legs buckled for a moment but the nurse at her side kept a strong hand on her arm that kept her standing. “Here we go” the nurse told her steering her to the nurses’ station, “Fran” she called and one nurse was replaced with a different one as Penny was handed off once more.

“Okay” the nurse named Fran began, an iPad in her hand and glasses on her kind face, “let’s begin. Patient’s name was what again?”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

“Age?”

“32.”

“Occupation?”

“Naval Pilot.”

She typed faster, then opened her mouth to ask more but Penny beat her too it, "please" she begged, "is he going to be alright?"

Fran seemed to scrutinize her for a moment, his brown eyes boring into Penny over her glasses, “What is your relation to him again?" she questioned.

Penny stuttered for a moment, but then found her confidence, "I'm- I'm his aunt” she declared daring someone to disagree. The nurse didn’t argue, just typed something on her iPad, “and your name?”

“Penny Benjamin.”

Fran nodded and motioned towards the waiting room, “okay Ms. Benjamin, take a seat and I’ll send a doctor to talk once he finishes his evaluations.”

"But can’t I go back in?“

“You’ve done everything you could for the Lieutenant; now leave it to the doctors.” Fran placed a comforting hand to her arm and squeezed gently, “your nephew is in good hands.”

“What if I didn’t do enough, I tried to put cold compresses, and the water, but he could even grip it properly and I never made him drink-“

“Shhh” the kind woman placated her, “I’ll let the doctors know. I’m sure they will put him on fluids right away, you just sit here.”

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’ll be back later.”

Penny watched her go, falling into the hard waiting room chair and taking her head into her hands. She wanted to scream in frustration and worry, but she knew that wouldn’t help Jake. Instead she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

A hand on her arm a few minutes later made her jump. She looked up; expecting a doctor or nurse but finding herself staring at the same security guard she had run past before. The man looked sheepish, clearly feeling guilty for startling her. Penny pulled her fingers through her long brown hair to try to look even a semblance of normal but the security guard didn’t seem to judge. “Ma’am” he began, “I’m sorry to bug you but I really need you to move your car, we got ambulances that need to unload in those spaces and you’re blocking them.”

She looked back at him, her face reddening in mortification; she had completely forgotten about the car she had left parked in the emergency entrance. “I’m so sorry, Sir, I was so panicked before-“

He shook off her apology, “believe me I’ve seen it a million times before. Just move it now and we can both pretend it didn’t happen. I know you got more important things to worry about.” He offered a hand to help her standing and Penny took it gratefully, rising from the chair and heading to the automatic doors leading outside.

Penny moved her car like directed and then took back her seat in the waiting room. She noticed others sitting around, none paying her much attention, everyone lost in their own worlds of worry and fear.

This was why she hated hospitals, especially waiting rooms. It was a place where time simultaneously stood still and yet rushed by. People waited in agony over people in actually agony. Some people were here for last goodbyes while others welcomed new lives into the world. It was a place of overstimulation and over emotion and yet Penny couldn’t imagine herself being anywhere else at the moment. She would wait here as long as it took until she knew Jake would be okay.

About an hour later, a tall man approached the nurse’s station and Penny watched as he was directed to her. "Ms Benjamin?" the dark haired doctor called dressed in scrubs, "my name is Doctor Rask,” he held out a hand for Penny to shake, her grip lacking from her fear, “I’m your nephew's doctor” he told her soothingly.

"Hi" Penny breathed out, trying to control her nerves, "how's Jake?" she asked after no preamble.

If he thought she was rude the doctor didn't comment, instead he went right into Jake's diagnosis. "Lieutenant Seresin has a severe case of hyperthermia, more specifically heat stroke. His body temperature was 105 when you brought him in and that was with the cooling methods you tried to do prior. With a body temp that high our biggest concern is always going to be organ failure."

Penny clutched her hands into fists; the feeling of her nails in her palms the only thing keeping her together. She focused on the slight pain as she struggled to find her voice, "did he-... is his organs... are they okay?"

"He is extremely lucky” the doctor explained, “We don't see any evidence of organ failure but we will monitor him closely for the next few hours to be sure."

"That's- that's good news."

Dr. Rask spared her a comforting look, "it is, especially with how overheated he was but he's not out of the woods yet. Lieutenant Seresin was also severely dehydrated and extremely exhausted. His fine motor skills were so impaired upon admission that the ER doctor ordered a toxicology report because he was convinced Lieutenant Seresin must have been drunk. He wasn't of course but the Lieutenant admitted to being unable to supply the last time he had a full night's sleep."

Penny sighed, "he just got back from a serious mission Doctor Rask, it affective him deeply-"

"I understand," the doctor cut in gently, "and believe me I'm sympathetic but I suggest he find someone to talk to about this. He is beyond normal exhaustion levels which is extremely dangerous, not only in his profession but in all matters of his life."

"I agree. I plan on reaching out to his CO to discuss this as well."

The doctor softened, "we can also recommend people for him to talk to if he didn't want to go through the Navy. My father served and I know firsthand how people can be hesitant to show weakness to their superiors. It’s dangerous and they end up denying themselves the opportunity to get proper help."

"Thank you, I worry about that as well but I can promise you I will personally make sure Jake gets the help he needs, even if I have to drag him myself."

"He's lucky to have you" Doctor Rask shared with a smile.

Penny shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor, “I don't know about that” she admitted softly.

"I do” the doctor told her kindly, “You saved his life getting him in here so quickly."

"So he will be okay?"

"Well like I said before his organs look undamaged which is the best news for his case. He is still on cooling pads right now as we try to lower his temperature safely. We also have him on multiple IVs to increase his fluids and nutrients."

It certainly didn’t sound like he was okay but Penny took the doctor’s calm attitude as a good sign. Still she would only feel better once she could see Jake with her own eyes, "Is he awake?" she asked ready to run to his room if she found out he was.

Doctor Rask shook his head, "we gave him a small sedative which I would normally be against but Lieutenant Seresin was very restless in the room from the over exhaustion. I feared he would tax himself further. It should wear off in a few hours but he will be exceptionally groggy. Do to the severity of the heat stroke and the strain on his body; I want to keep him overnight for observations."

"Can I see him?"

"I would prefer not if I'm honest” he managed a sympathetic look when he noticed her face fall. “It's important for him to stay resting. In his heightened state and with the weak sedation, any disruption could cause him to wake before he's ready and that's the last thing he needs. Rest is his best medication at this point."

"I understand" and she did, no matter how much it broke her heart to think of Jake waking up alone in the hospital.

"If you leave your info with the nurse, I'll call you personally when he wakes, or any other member of his family."

He doesn't think he has any family, Penny's mind automatically corrected but she didn't bother saying it out loud. Besides, she learned many years ago that family went far beyond blood no matter what the medical world said. "Thank you Doctor, for everything."

"My pleasure and make sure Lieutenant Seresin thanks you as well. Like I said before, you saved your nephew's life today Ms. Benjamin, a few more minutes out there and we would be having a very different conversation."

She shuddered but gave her thanks anyway before turning back to her waiting room seat. She knew she had hours to kill before Jake would be up and she could see him so Penny took out her phone and scrolled to Pete’s name. She knew she needed to call the man, knew that the minute he heard something was wrong with one of his pilots he would want to be informed and be there. She wondered for a moment if perhaps she was overstepping until she remember Jake’s sad words in the car. This was a man who thought he was alone in the world and even worse, he thought he deserved to be alone in the world. He thought of himself as a killer for doing his job and pathetic for not being to handle his emotions and his PTSD properly. His hyperthermia would be treated but Penny knew that Jake Seresin had a much longer road to recovery once he was discharged from the hospital. Penny knew that she, Maverick, Rooster and the rest of the Daggers would be there for him every step of the way. They were a family now and that’s what family does.

Her mind made up, Penny hit the call button and brought the phone up to her ear, ready to call on the reinforcements.

[lilydalexf]

A fic being creepy or scary is up to personal interpretation, but here are some very good creepy, scary, or horror X-Files fics that I would generally consider in a category like Finding Rokovoko by prufrock's love (which I recced here), though I don't know if anything is quite like that fic. These asks and another I already partly answered are so old (one at least 4 years old), but thank you, anons! It took me a too long while, but I liked putting together this list. Enjoy! The stories in the list below aren't Halloween stories. Some recs of creepy or scary fics are in my Halloween fic rec lists: part 1, part 2. Not listed below are casefiles by @syntax6, which all get a rec.

An Awful Noise by 221Browncoat (@whumpdoyoumean) Mulder's injured and there's something in the woods. The Barn by @discordantwords The light stung her eyes and Scully shut them tightly, feeling her skin prickle uncomfortably in the heat as she tried to remember what, how, why–why she was lying on her stomach on the dusty ground, fingers scrabbling in the dirt...

Bonemeal by Magdeleine Here there be Pigs. Brumal Harvest by DarlaBlack (@sigritandtheelves) Mulder and Scully are trapped deep in the wintry Ozarks while something stalks them from the shadows… The Crouching Thing by se_parsons Sometimes we see things we don't want to see.

Das Ding by @teethnbone Some grassy barrows, some big gold fields. Every Sparrow Falling by Alloway Deadly birds, mysterious soldiers and abandoned carnivals lead Mulder and Scully to small-town America, where they discover that dwelling on the past can be a very dangerous thing. The Fox and the Howned by K. D. Enriquez A psychotic serial killer from Mulder's past returns for vengeance. Gates of Hell by @alienqueequeg In the first case after her remission from cancer, Scully is forced to confront a disturbing time in her past. Ten bodies are found buried outside an abandoned hospital in Northern California, all desecrated in a way that is reminiscent of horrifying medical experiments that took place there almost fifty years ago. While navigating the complexities of a changing relationship, Scully and Mulder work to uncover a long-buried evil and hope to solve a cold case that has haunted Scully for years.

Heuvelmans' On the Track by The_Mythpoeic (@mashnotesofthemythpoeic) In which Scully becomes a Consortium doctor, and Mulder moves heaven and earth. Infinity by Steven G. Barnes Mulder and Scully investigate strange occurrences linked to a psychic, and find themselves drawn into a nightmare. La Llorona by @bohoartist Mulder and Scully investigate the tale of the ghostly La Llorona. Nevermore by FridaysAt9 The raven outside Scully’s window rattles her nerves, leading her to a late night visit to Mulder’s apartment for a little comfort. Nowhere to Hide by Thalia D'Muse Someone from Scully's past resurfaces...

Paper Saints by Jill Selby Set post-“Fight the Future” Shine by Ainon Mulder and Scully come to investigate multiple deaths in one family. Silver Cornet by Bonetree Set just after "Je Souhaite," Mulder and Scully take a ride on a mysterious train that's carrying more secrets than either can imagine. snow in april by skuls (@ghostbustermelanieking) Dealing with the fallout from Mulder's return, Mulder and Scully find themselves in the midst of a strange case in a small town.

The Summoning of Nikola Price by @alienqueequeg Mulder and Scully spend a weekend in a haunted house with psychics attempting to communicate with the ghost of powerful spiritualist. Set sometime after One Son and before Milagro. The Three Lost Children by @baronessblixen Mulder takes Scully to an abandoned house that's said to be haunted. Scully doesn't believe in that sort of thing but then things start to get spooky. The Vardoger by Corinne Hansen "I'm inclined to think we are all ghosts--every one of us." Henrik Ibsen Waldron Island by @sisterspooky1013 Visit beautiful Waldron Island: the vacation of your dreams. We Could Have Made Music by @discordantwords They are fifteen years old, hale and hearty and healthy, tall and pale and quiet as churchmice. They have grown up to the music of Six's madness, her sobs and sniffles and laughter, the scrape of teeth against metal, the rasp of teeth against skin, the sick sweet wet sounds of tearing flesh.

[onyxmilk]

hi, can I please request drabbles of the strawhats with a fem!reader who is very very strong (like yor forger or maki zen'in), but doesn’t look like it? like, the reader doesn't look like she can beat people up, but she surely can.

Strawhats x f!Reader; "Strength"

notes; merry christmas yall :D tw; Reader uses She/Her pronouns!, unedited wc; 0.5k

Luffy; Luffy watched in awe as [YourName] absolutely kicked ass. See, he knew that something was special about you when he found her on the same boat that Koby was on! He knew there was some fire inside [YourName, and to the others she was deemed useless- just some girl Luffy had picked up early on. [YourName] fought with all her might, taking down buff men and flipping them. The others were too busy to notice, but Luffy did and he was entranced because of it. Luckily, he could watch and fight- encouraging [YourName] with soft 'Yeah!' and 'Kick their asses!'

Zoro; "Do you need help- Oh.." Zoro offered to [YourName] but instead watched her as she picked up heavy boxes and moved them onto their new ship. He had taken a liking to her, often making excuses to get near her, he just didn't know why and he thinks he found his reasoning. She was the definition of looks could be deceiving! She was shorted than him and often played hopeless to scam the merchants around them, it got them more food. Seeing [YourName] do what was deemed a 'man's job' really got him debating his feelings for the beautiful woman. Nami; [YourName] was friends with Nami when she was little before she left, and each time she had even thought of the girl- Nami would think of someone weak and needing assistance constantly. So to her surprise, when she had arrived back on her home island and after the whole fight did she find [YourName] carrying heavy medical supplies. Nami just had to watch for a moment in shock, that's when her sister had came up to her and chuckled, explaining that after Nami left, [YourName] took training seriously. Nami just blushed and nodded her head, understanding and assuming [YourName]'s reasoning. Usopp; Usopp was new to the strawhats, not sure what [YourName] because she didn't really do much but trip Kuro. So when he found [YourName] really making Zoro work for his money in an arm wrestle he was a little more than just shocked. He turned to Nami who seen this play out before and just laughed before nodding her head and heading out, Usopp just stayed and watched what would happen- and he was glad he did. After a long five minutes, [YourName] won the wrestle and got the berry. Zoro would scoff and walk off while Usopp praised [YourName]. Sanji; [YourName] was new to the Baratie, playing waitress who would help out in the kitchen now and again. Sanji didn't lay eyes on her until one night when it was just him to clean up the kitchen and [YourName] offered to help. "You don't have to get tha-" Sanji began, just for [YourName] to pick up one of the heavier boxes packed full of ingredients and move it. Sanji stood there, impressed but also in shock. [YourName] just didn't look like the type of girl to do any heavy lifting like that, but every woman to their own he supposed.