#and the doctors down here are sexist and would probably say 'oh it's a women's problem' like before when i was bleeding out my asshoole

[euargh]

I love Spamton and the Addisons so much. I write my bad fanfictions with them a lot to pretend I have a friendship family such as theirs to block out the reality of how alone and mistreated I am irl lmao. I badly wish a friendship family like the Addisons, but that can’t happen and won’t exist so... fictional world to reside in it is then. Yes, I am a VERY sad person, lulz. Speaking of which, oh man it’s Christmas Eve, I better work on another chapter of the Addisons Sitcom. I need to have Pink want to be the center of attention and break everything in a comical manner. I don’t know why I like making Pink this blood thirsty person while remaining elegant. It’s just funny to me. but oh man I also need to complete the secret santa giftart. arughskj art is always such a chore for me. wish it were fun and easy like it is for most people. I only find writing to be fun for me, depending what it is. Like having to respond back to people or RP’s is also a chore at times. urgh, hate how my brain is so... lame and finds everything a chore nowadays. Drank this energy drink and now I have a migraine.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

late night calls

Summary: It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Plus size reader

Wordcount: 4.1k+

Warnings: fluff, phone sex, mentions of bomb attacks, sexism, self doubt, yearning?

A/N: I know that probably more time passed between the bombing and Javier being send back to the states but I chose to ignore it. For the plot. Hope you enjoy it :)

Masterlist

*taglist in reblog

You still weren’t used to the heat. Yes, you did move to Texas because you wanted a fresh start. But the fucking heat would take some time to get used to. Nothing was holding you back in Maine. You had spent the last years taking care of your sick mother. She had died just before Christmas and with her all the family you had left. 

So coming with the new year you took a leap of faith, packed your things, and moved to a little town close to the Mexican border. You got a job at the local police station as a secretary that made a decent sum of money each month. Life was good. At least you told yourself so. 

You had made a couple of friends. Mostly the older generation of the town. You weren’t big on going out, nor had the town a big nightlife in the first place. That’s why you insisted on taking care of Chucho after he told you one day at the diner that he had to get a hip replacement. His wife had died a long time ago and his son wasn’t able to leave work.

“Don’t you have some better stuff to do cariño?” He had asked.

“What better way to start your day than on your Farm, Senior Peña.” You had winked at him.

Chucho might have been a stubborn old man, but once he got out of surgery and was in pain he was thankful that he accepted your help. That was also the first time you heard him talk about his son. Javier.

“Be a dear and call him to tell him I’m okay?” He had mumbled before he dozed off again. You had chuckled, kissed his cheek before you left him for the day to went over to his farm. Once you had taken care of everything for the day you sat down on his kitchen island and grabbed the phone, dialing the first number he had written down.

You had suggested moving into his place in his recovery time. It was a beautiful place. Mexico was just on the other side of the river down the property. But the best part about this place was the air conditioning. Okay… You really loved this place and it definitely was an upgrade to the small apartment you were renting in the city. 

Waiting for his son to pick up the phone you wondered what kind of job he would have that he wasn’t able to take care of his father. You didn’t judge him, okay maybe a little, you were more curious. You had seen some pictures of him spread through the house. But you had never asked about him.

“DEA Office, how may I help you?” A woman answered your call.

“Uhm… Is Javier Peña available? It’s about his father,” you tried.

“Oh of course. Agent Peña just got in. Please hold.”

Agent Peña? DEA? You had so many questions but they died on your tongue when the call connected again.

“This is Peña.” A deep voice said. He reminded you of his father.

“Hello Mr. Peña. I’m only calling to let you know that your father’s surgery went fine. He wanted me to forward this to you.”

“Javier, please. Not even my father likes to be called Mr. Peña.” 

“Oh I noticed that,” you chuckled.

“He’s fine yeah?” You heard something shuffle on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. Already made some jokes and told me to make sure I feed the horses in the right order.”

“You’re taking care of the horses?”

“Yeah. I’m temporarily moving in to help your father.”

“That’s very nice of you. He never told me about you.”

“There’s not much to tell.” You got up and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m only here for the air conditioning.” You joked. He laughed.

“Fuck I miss air conditioning. Hold on.” You sat down again, hearing only damp voices.

“Fuck. I need to go. Please call me if something comes up. Dad has my home number too, right?” He was speaking quickly and you wondered what was happening. 

“Yes, he wrote it down for me. Everything okay?”

“Yeah hopefully. Just some work stuff. Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Will do Javier.”

Chucho got home a week later and he was the worst at listening to doctors’ orders. You still had to go into the station to work, but you spend your whole time worrying about him. It was funny to you how he seemingly had become a father figure to you in less than a couple of weeks. 

Of course you found him standing at the kitchen counter when you got to the ranch, the phone tugged between his shoulder and his ear, making himself a sandwich.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I was. Then Javi called and I got hungry.” 

“Stubborn old man,” you grumbled and he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I brought dinner.”

“Fine. Here. Javi wants to say Hello,” he handed you the phone before he slowly trotted towards the couch. Shaking your head you put the phone to your ear.

“You are really strict with him,” Javier said.

“Someone has to. Are all you Peña men this stubborn?” 

He chuckled. “You have no idea. How is he doing?”

“Overall good. Not complaining as much as in the beginning but then again I am bribing him with my delicious cooking.”

Javier and you had spoken to each other at least two times per week since the first time you called to tell him about his father’s surgery. You learned that he was a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar. You learned that he was feeling guilty about not being there for his father and to take care of the ranch. You learned lots of things about Javier Peña. 

“Ah... Delicious cooking. Maybe one day you get to cook for me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You teased, hearing him take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably. 

“Just that my father is praising your cooking so much I wonder if it really is that good.”

“Oh, it is, Peña.” You found yourself smiling. You heard him sigh.

“Everything’s okay over there?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. Definitely a lie. You nodded.

“You wanna stay on the phone while I prepare dinner?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

The better Chucho got, the longer the phone calls between Javier and you seem to get. It was mostly at night after he got home from whatever he had been doing at work that day intending to check in on his father. But after a few sentences, he asked about your day. About how you felt. What your plans for the coming weekend were. 

“You sound exhausted Hermosa,” he sighed. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream and drown your sorrows.

“Just the usual sexist bullshit at the PD,” you groaned.

“Want me to kill them?” Javier joked.

“You take care of your nemesis, I take care of mine. But I appreciate the help.” You sat down on your bed, knowing that this was usually the room he occupied when he was here to visit his father. 

“Noted. But if it’s any help, I had a shit day too. They seem to get more frequent the longer I stay in this shithole.”

“Maybe you have to focus on the good things of being in this country. There have to be some. The food probably. I always enjoy new food. Maybe go to a museum? I don’t want to intrude but you don’t seem like you do anything besides work and well…”

It was pure accident that you had heard the voice of a woman one night when you had called him for a change. You knew that he looked good, you had seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you, that he did have a girlfriend. He clarified that he didn’t, that this was just a woman he got intel from. You didn’t ask any more questions, it wasn’t your right. That it hurt to think of him and another woman was something you chose to ignore.

“I never thanked you,” Javier said. You let yourself fall back into bed, staring at the stars outside the window.

“What for?” you asked quietly.

“Thanking care of Dad and the ranch. Listening to my drunken ramblings. You’re a good friend,” he said. You smiled, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

“You’re a good friend too, Javi.”

Chucho didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not when he was back to his old health after a couple of months. But he had asked you to move in with him anyway. And you loved to live with the old man. Enjoying not being on your own all the time. And you loved helping him out at the ranch. The PD was still getting on your nerves and you were seriously considering just quitting.

“I hate it. I fucking hate it. I get one dumb line after another, just because I’m a woman. That I helped to get together the evidence to put that fucker away that killed all those women last year is not even of interest. FUCK!” you complained to Chucho. He knew about all of this already. Yet he jumped from his seat when he saw that you did cut yourself while making dinner.

“Careful.” He took your hand in his, leading you over to the sink to look at your wound. It didn’t hurt that much. 

“What about if I take care of dinner today, and you go and take a bath? Javier is probably gonna call in a bit…” Chucho winked, putting a bandaid on your finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“Just that I see the way you smile every time my son calls.”

“Two whole days off? What are you gonna do with yourself?” You joked. You were laying in the bathtub, the phone in your hand as you talked to Javier.

“Don’t know. I feel like I need a home-cooked meal so I’m gonna nag Connie to cook one.”

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“Is that water I hear?” he asked and you blushed. Why? You didn’t know. You had undressed numerous times while on the phone with him, but being completely naked and him knowing about it…

“I’m in the bathtub. Chucho’s orders. He’s making dinner before I kill myself doing it.”

You were met with silence.

“You okay, Javi?” You sucked your bottom lip in. “I did only cut my finger,” you joked.

“Just trying to get the picture of you naked in the bathtub out of my head.”

“You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to hear your voice and I’m hard…”

“Javi…” you whispered, feeling hot all of the sudden.

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?”

“If you think about me? Because you are on my mind all the time. I keep picturing how you look. If you have long hair or short hair. What color your eyes have. If your smile is only half as beautiful as your laugh. Fuck… I just wanna see you. I wanna feel you. I wanna taste you Hermosa.” 

Unintentionally your unoccupied hand had made its way down your body, your breath coming in short pants.

“Keep talking Javier…” you whispered, your hand slipping in between your legs.

“I want to touch you. Fuck I bet your skin is so soft. I’d worship you. I stay up at night wondering if I could fit your boobs in my hands. What sound you would make when I close my mouth around your nipple…”

“Shit Javi…” You moaned.

“I wonder how you taste. Are you wet for me baby?” he asked and you heard a zipper being undone on his end of the line.

“So wet. You always make me wet. I touch myself when we get off the phone, wondering how it would feel to have you here…” you whimpered.

“I would have fucked you on every flat surface in the house if I was there. The thought of you sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind.”

You circled your clit with your fingers, a low moan coming from your lips.

“I wonder how you feel wrapped around my cock. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum. I want to hear it so badly…” You were sure he was fucking his hand and you whimpered at the thought.

“I wish it was my hand wrapped around your big cock right now. God, I wish it was your hand between my legs and not mine…” You bit your lips, keeping yourself quiet.

“Put two fingers into that cunt and make yourself cum. I wanna hear you…” he groaned on the phone. 

“Fuck Javi…” you cried quietly, two fingers inside your cunt. “I wish it was your cock and not my fingers.”

“Me too… Me too babe.” he moaned. “Circle that clit for me. Cum for me.”

Circling your clit you almost let the phone fall into the tub when you came with a low moan. You heard him cry out your name on the other end of the line before all that was heard was both of your heavy breathing. 

“Javi…?” you asked after a while, still high from one of the best orgasms you ever had. You heard the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette.

“I meant every single word Hermosa. I want you.” You never thought you would hear these words from him or any man for that matter. You weren’t a typical beauty. You weren’t skinny, you loved food and your curves showed it. On most days you were happy with the way you looked. But you also knew how Javier looked. He was an attractive man and you knew he did indeed have a new woman every other night if he felt like it. He might be interested now, but once he would meet you, there was no way he would make true to all the things he said.

“You’re quiet.” he noticed.

“Yeah. Just coming down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” you joked and he sighed.

“I might not see you, but I know that you’re lying.”

“Okay, it was the best orgasm I ever had.”

“Hermosa…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just let me enjoy the illusion of a handsome DEA Agent being interested in little ol’ me.”

“I’ll make sure you believe that it isn’t an illusion until we do see each other.”

Months went by and by now you were pretty sure you were in love with Javier Peña. The phone bill was taking dimensions you were almost guilty about, but Chucho only smiled not taking your money, telling you to make his boy happy. Safe to say he approved.

You had told him about your insecurities and Javier made sure to tell you every time you talked to each other that it didn’t matter how you looked. He told you that you could be green and he’d still go down on you the first time he would meet you.

And you wanted to believe him, you really did. You had told him how you looked after he tried to talk you into sending pictures of yourself “with or without clothes, I don’t care. Though you can guess what I prefer.” he had teased. Javier never made a secret about how much he liked you. Enjoyed talking to you. He told you he had stopped sleeping around for god’s sake. 

He was supposed to visit his father in a couple of weeks and the more time passed, the more nervous you became. You didn’t doubt that he meant every single word he said to you. It was years of being on the receiving end of jokes and being the ugly friend that automatically let you feel like you weren’t good enough.

The worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you were beautiful. You loved how you looked. But there still was this voice inside your head, telling you that you would never be good enough for anyone. That there was no way someone would ever fall in love with you.

It was a typical morning at work. You had your coffee and all the files you had to update. Javier had talked to you until you fell asleep, telling you that he felt like he was failing in taking Escobar down. He didn’t tell you much, not wanting you to worry or to risk someone listening, but you could tell that he was exhausted. “I fucked up, Hermosa. I really fucked up and I have no idea how to fix this,” were the words that he had whispered to you in the middle of the night. 

You didn’t ask what he meant, just telling him that you’d be there for him, no matter what.

Typing as usual you stopped as the song on the radio was, interrupted by a news report of a bombing in Bogota, Colombia. You knew that there were bombings all the time over there, and Javier always assured you that he was perfectly fine. But with how he was last night, you had a bad feeling.

“Fuck. When are they going to stop that shit over there? If I was there I’d caught Escobar years ago,” one of the officers said. You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply.

“Isn’t Chucho’s son over there pretty face?” The officer stopped in front of your desk and you opened your eyes.

“Yeah he is,” you said.

“Maybe if he would know how to do his job, shit like that wouldn’t go down like that,” he grinned and you wanted to stop, but your hand was faster. Slapping his cheek you got off your seat.

“And maybe if you would know how to use your dick your wife wouldn’t fuck your colleague over there, but you’ll never know, right?” You grinned, picking your purse and walking out.

“I’m taking today off.” You yelled over your shoulder as you walked to your car.

Javier didn’t pick up the phone. Which wasn’t what concerned you on the first day. He would have to deal with the shit that had happened over there. But when three days passed and you could see Chucho getting nervous as well you became restless. The ranch had never been so spotless. The horses had been fed in record time, and you took long rides along the river. If something had happened to him someone would have called, right? You couldn’t even reach his partner Murphy who you had talked to occasionally when Javier wasn’t at his desk. 

When a week passed and you hadn’t heard anything you were close to making your way to the airport to just fly down there. What if he died? What if he was gone and you hadn’t told him that you loved him? That you fell in love with a man you had never met before? Getting off the horse you sat down at the tree closest to the river. It was quiet here. This was the outer area of Chucho’s ranch, your favorite spot. You had joked about building a house here once when you were out with the old man and he had agreed that it would be the perfect spot. Sighing you drank from the bottle of water you brought.

Where the fuck are you Javier?

Another week went by without any sign of life from him. You had called the DEA office again but no one seemed to be able to give you an answer. You were growing restless. Working seemed to be the only thing that could get you off the spiraling thoughts of what if? You really had it bad for the man. Shaking your head to yourself you sighed as you parked your car on the usual spot in front of the ranch. Chucho’s truck was gone, he had a doctor's appointment to check on his hip and would meet his lady friend for dinner afterward. You had met her, Estella, once. She was a beautiful woman and Chucho seemed very happy with her. With a sad smile you killed the engine, getting out of the car. On your way to the house you groaned, turning around because you forgot your take out. You weren’t in the mood to cook and the pizza from that place that Javier had told you about was the best you had ever had. While you opened the passenger door of your car you heard the front door of the house open.

Shit. Burglars? You didn’t have anything on you, you could use as a gun. You knew you could probably make it to the horse stable to find something, but not in these fucking heels. Why did you wear these fucking heels? Maybe you could make them choke on the pizza? But then again you were looking forward to eating it. 

“Just take what you want, I won’t look.” You called over your shoulder, hoping to just be spared for the day. Closing your eyes you sighed when you were met with no reaction. You heard footsteps on the porch that stopped.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit today. So either take whatever the fuck you want or kill me….” you turned around and all the words died on your lips.

Standing there, leaning against the porch was no other than Javier fucking Peña. Alive. And looking even better than on the various pictures hanging in the house. He was bare feet, wearing tight jeans and a green shirt that was half undone. Opening your mouth to talk, all that came out was a gasp. He looked at you, his eyes mirroring the million emotions inside of you. Looking down at yourself you felt shy all of the sudden. This isn’t how you imagined meeting him for the first time. You wanted to be pretty. To wear some spanx. To have some make-up on. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep. You were happy to see him, you really were. But the ride of emotions you had gone through in the last couple of days took hold of you. Walking quickly towards him, you pushed against his chest, the air leaving his lungs in a puff.

“You fucking idiot. I thought you died.” You pushed him again.

“Do you have any idea how awful I felt since I heard the news of the bombing? You…” You pushed against his chest again, but this time he was faster, grabbing your wrists as he looked down at you. You felt the tears in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. Almost a year of phone calls and now he was standing here in front of you. Alive and warm. And smelling so fucking good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding both of your wrists against his chest as he looked at you. 

“I should have called but I told you I fucked up. Badly. And I had to fix it and…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and fuck… you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” he smiled a little.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You huffed, still annoyed.

“No?” he asked teasingly, smirking at you as he leaned down. You shook your head, biting your lip. God, you wanted to kiss him. 

“Can I at least try?” he asked, his lips brushing over your temple. You swallowed, shivering when you felt his cheek against yours. Fuck. Why did he smell so good?

“You may try, but I’m really, really mad at you Javier.”

You closed your eyes when he released your wrists and put one of his hands on your back to push you closer against him. He kissed your cheek before he straightened to his full height and looked down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your cheek.

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” he teased before he leaned down to kiss you. You melted against him, your hands running up his chest, holding on to the back of his neck as one hand ran through his hair, to pull him down. Kissing him didn’t come close to anything you could have imagined, his tongue parting your lips and you couldn’t help the moan against his lips. 

“Still angry?” he whispered out of breath against your lips.

“Slightly less angry,” you whispered back before you found yourself in his arms as he carried you into the house.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

[andorerso]

Nurse!Cassian sounds great, would be curious to contemplate in combo with Dr. Jyn. Like, does he shut down sexist stereotypes like right there whenever someone assumes Jyn is the nurse? If she's a surgeon, is he her favourite scrub nurse, even though they're not supposed to have favourites?

my original somewhat uninspired idea was nurse Cassian and patient Jyn but then @riflegoespurr mentioned EMT Jyn and honestly I'm obsessed with that idea. if I had to do this (and had the medical knowledge to do it lmao) I'd probably go with nurse Cassian and EMT Jyn

that said, doctor/surgeon Jyn would be fun too! the only baseline I have here is watching 15 seasons of Grey's Anatomy so forgive me for going off of that (I know it's not very accurate) but I remember there was an episode pretty early on about a nurse strike that gives me some ideas. I think the plot was that the doctors kinda took the nurses for granted and then when they had enough and began to strike, it turned out they were pretty useless without their assistance. like maybe there's this social divide between the nurses and the doctors, they work together fine and maybe the doctors even appreciate the nurses but they don't really associate with each other outside of work, they don't eat together, they don't talk about non-work related stuff, etc. it's kinda an unspoken rule. so Cassian kinda assumes Jyn is like that too but every time they work together she's always very respectful and treats him as an equal which is nice. she's a favorite with the nurses because of that and everyone's lowkey jealous because he almost seems to be a favorite for her too and she tends to request him if she can.

I can definitely see Jyn being mistaken for the nurse and Cassian's always the first to point out "no, she's the doctor" with a bit of a snide tone because he's sick of the sexist assumption and she absolutely deserves more respect, but then he gets the weird look like "oh, you're a male nurse?" and it's Jyn's turn to step in and defend him like "it's 2021, also nurses are incredibly valuable to us and I couldn't do half my job without him"

and that's literally the most personal interaction they have but eventually the rumor mill gets working and people start noticing that Cassian seems to get on every case she has so "they must be screwing each other" now idk if this would be against hospital policy, probably not because we do want them to eventually date for real, but it's the kinda thing that gets you talked about behind your back so even though they literally never even talked outside of their cases, their reputation both gets a hit because of this. and Jyn starts requesting him less which sucks because he gets stuck with this other surgeon who's a rude entitled ass and Cassian's not having a good time at all.

then maybe they're working on a case together again and maybe they lose the patient and it's emotional and it sucks and Cassian sees Jyn drinking alone in the bar that night and he really shouldn't but he's had a shit day too and misery loves company so he approaches her. they start talking about their patient, the rumor about them which they both pretended it didn't exist until now, how stupid and annoying it is that their professions are constantly mixed up because it devalues women and nurses at the same time, how much they both apparently hate the douchebag doctor Cassian had to work with lately (Krennic maybe??) and well.... I don't think they hook up that night but there's definitely something there and after this they start talking at the hospital too and going for drinks at the bar becomes a regular occurrence until one night between two rounds of darts Jyn says screw it, she's a bit tipsy and he looks good enough to eat in his red shirt and the sleeves rolled up like that, so she kisses him. they do hook up that night.

idk, there could be angst after this like maybe they're both unsure this was a good idea because although the rumor of their affair is old news they don't wanna prove them right so maybe they both kinda avoid each other or maybe they mutually decide not to pursue anything, and it gets a bit awkward. they don't go out anymore and they both realize they miss that. but then Jyn has a bad day and she loses a patient and he finds her crying in a supply closet and comforts her, and really it's useless trying to stay away from each other. I imagine that she's already kinda in a vulnerable state and he's so gentle and caring and exactly what she needs and she can't help blurting out "I really like you" and then that's that. they don't really define their relationship just yet but they walk in the next morning holdings hands and screw what everyone else thinks

[purple-fireflies]

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

[mypoisonedvine]

Double-Edged Sword: Capt. Syverson x Reader (Chapter 1)

[I decided to ignore my WIPs and my URL and write something for Syverson because he is just…. a beautiful, meaty man and he deserves some more love.

To those of you who follow me for Witcher stuff only, I promise we will return shortly to the regularly scheduled programming.  As for the rest of us who are thirsty for Cavill in any context… enjoy!]

Summary: As a Major in the Marine Corps, you work with other units and branches relatively often.  That said, you had never really had to ask another unit for help before, so you felt pretty awkward when a mission required you to travel to a nearby Army camp and take shelter with them for the next two months.  Of course, their smack-talking, free-wheeling Captain isn’t going to make it any easier on you, either.

Word Count: 5k (oh jesus christ)

Rating: E

(warning for dub con and people being sexist assholes, cause yknow, it’s the military.  contains lots of angst and bickering and arguing, and of course, smut.)

“Listen, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m Ms. Popular,” you sighed, “but hopefully you all can appreciate that I look out for all of you.”

No one said anything, because they were standing at attention at their cots.

“At ease,” you added, and they all relaxed a bit, “but keep quiet so I can finish.”

A few sat on their beds but most still seemed to be paying attention.

“When it’s just us Marines, I don’t mind much whatever you call me when I’m not around.  Or when I’m around.  But once we get where we’re going tomorrow, we’re shacking up with the Army.  And as much as I want everyone to get along, I’m not sure how likely that is.  Anyways, what I’m trying to say is… right now it may be me versus you, but soon it’s going to be us versus them, Marines versus Army.  And us Marines need to stick together.  Does that make sense?”

There were a few nods, but you weren’t sure they were getting it.

“Alright, allow me to be a bit more literal.  Don’t tell the other soldiers that I’m a bitch,” you requested.  There were some scattered chuckles.  “I know it probably seems fine since you say it to each other but I need you guys to help me get their respect.  I’m not saying to go in there and tell every Army nimrod that I’m everybody’s favorite officer.  Just… don’t let them see any cracks they could exploit.  Because I have to start ordering these guys around and I’m already batting a thousand.”

“Seems reasonable,” Private Cole replied, and most of the others agreed.  You smiled and left them alone to have a somewhat relaxing night before they had to ship out.

“I don’t want this to be Marines versus Army,” you told Captain Syverson the next day when you met with him for the first time.  Of course, that was what you had told your own unit would happen, but he didn’t know that.  “I’m sure you know that this is an officer versus enlisted issue.  And us officers should stick together.”

He was smiling back at you from across the table, but it didn’t seem that friendly.  

“I don’t see why there’s any ‘versus’ at all.  You and your unit are guests here.  We get this project over with and you’re out,” he shrugged.  

“Maybe you haven’t had much issue getting control of your soldiers.  But it took me a while to get mine to trust me, and now I have to go in blind and command your unit.  So I hope you’re on my side,” you explained.

He went from smiling in an unhappy way, to laughing in an unfunny way.  You regretted the way you had approached this conversation.

“Sounds like you’re not a good leader, if it was so much trouble for you,” he scoffed. “Maybe you should work on that.”

You didn’t get angry very often, but this was the closest you’d been in a while.  You understood his distrust, even a little duplicity was merited.  To just outright insult you to your face was, of course, hurtful, but mainly just stupid.  You’d always known Army guys were total morons, but this was just ridiculous.  What could he gain from going against you?

“How many years until you get promoted?” you asked him suddenly, standing up from your chair.

“About two and a half,” he responded.

“Well, if in two and a half years we’re both still alive, and I’m not already a lieutenant colonel, call me and we’ll talk about who’s in charge.  Until then, back off,” you huffed, and turned to walk away.  You yelped when he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back.

“You’re on my base,” he reminded you sternly.

“And we’ll try to be respectful while we’re here, regardless of how we’re being treated,” you grimaced, wrenching your arm out of his grasp.

“You’ll try to be respectful?  On my base?!  How generous,“ he scoffed.  "You can’t just show up and start running things.”

“I have no desire to micromanage your little sandhut, Captain.  I don’t give half a fuck what goes on in here.  What I do have is the final call on any decision made in this mission,” you explained.

“On whose authority?” he pressed.  You laughed.

“Cap, somewhere in your desk there’s a little piece of paper– it’s got a lot of pretty gold and silver stars on it– and it explains how commanding authority is ranked in every branch of the United States military.  Feel free to go and check me on this, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Captain’ is here,” you motioned in the air, “and ‘Major’ is here,” you moved your hand up an inch.

“Well, sweetheart, there’s a sign outside the front of this base that says ‘Army’ on it, and a little sticker on your chest,” he poked it, and you couldn’t decide if you hated the physical contact or the deriding pet name more, “that says USMC.”

“Rank is rank,” you argued.

“So if you’ve got a doctorate in physics and I’ve got a master’s in English, you have the right to lecture me about fuckin’ Grapes of Wrath or whatever?”

“My doctorate is in American History,” you frowned. He laughed in frustration.

“Only a Jarhead could miss the point that hard,” he groaned, “and find a way to brag in the process.”

“Call your superior,” you growled, “who is notably a Major, and ask him who has authority on this base while we’re here.”

You stormed out before you could hear his reply.

~

When the time came, the two of you discussed how you would approach the mission behind closed doors.  Not like it was fun or anything, but you managed to stay off each other’s throats for a while and agree on a few things.  It was nice enough that you actually let your guard down, so much so that you were totally blindsided when he waited until you were in front of the entire company to disagree with you.

“That’ll never work,” he suddenly interrupted as you explained the plan, “we’ll divide and conquer.”

You looked at him with confusion.

“That’s not what we discussed before,” you reminded him.

“I changed my mind,” he shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t.  So we’ll do it my way.”

“My men, my rules,” he growled, stepping closer to you.

“Half these people,” you corrected, since a few of your unit were women, “are mine, and you’re below me.”

“Fuck you,” he said casually, smiling while he did it.

“You couldn’t handle it,” you spat back.

A few of the enlisted ‘ooooh’ed but for the most part it was very, very quiet.

Finally, Captain Syverson silently turned on his heel and walked away, looking exasperated.

“Looks like the Captain is going to take a little break,” you smiled with fake enthusiasm, turning back to the company, “and I’ll keep explaining this mission to you all.”

“If Captain Syverson doesn’t approve it, we’re not doing it,” one of the Army kids announced.  Your Marines were notably silent, but the rest of the Captain’s unit nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got a word for you, boys.  It starts with ‘N’ and ends with ‘subordination,’” you frowned.  They all groaned.

“It’s not insubordination because you’re not in charge of us!”

“Manage your own people, Jarhead!”

You uncrossed your arms and let your voice get a little louder.  “Hey, hey, settle down!” 

It mostly worked, but everyone seemed pretty displeased.

“Captain Syverson and I had a discussion with our superiors and it was concluded that I am highest ranking and I get the final call on every tactical decision,” you explained.

“That’s not what he told us,” one of the Army boys chuckled.

You tried not to seethe in front of them, you tried to keep it professional, but how were you supposed to work in these conditions?

“As you were,” you resigned through your teeth, storming off to where the Captain had gone.  You found him in his quarters, relaxing on a sofa; you nearly kicked the door in to talk to him.

“What the fuck was that?!” you exclaimed.

“I changed my mind,” he repeated calmly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you growled, shoving him where he sat.  He stood up, clearly agitated.

“Get your hands off me, lady.”

“Major,” you corrected through your teeth.

“Only Major you are to me is a major waste of my fucking time,” he replied.

“Take it up with the Department of Defense, they’re the ones who gave me the title,” you defended.

“You know, lately I’ve been having issues with a lot of their decisions.  I’m still trying to figure out why the fuck we’re doing this anyways.”

“The mission?” you asked.

“The war,” he corrected.

“Ah,” you nodded, looking around nervously.  You were more comfortable with the arguing than the awkward silence. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and slumping his shoulders.

“Go tell your unit the plan- our plan.  Better yet, tell them they answer to me,” you demanded.

“I couldn’t have made it any more obvious that I’m not gonna do what you tell me,” he frowned, crossing his arms.

“Will you at least cooperate with me enough to get this mission over with?” 

He thought about that for a minute, and you tried not to lose your patience.

“Hmm… no,” he decided finally.

“Then will you shut the fuck up and stay out of my way?” you suggested instead.

He stepped up to you until he was uncomfortably close, and you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.  He had these really bright blue eyes and they didn’t fit with the rest of his face, which was significantly angrier and grittier.

“Not a chance,” he answered.  But his voice had lost the intimidating tone, and his expression had changed at some point without you noticing… he looked sort of calm, considering the situation, and you realized that he was examining your face.

“You know,” he said suddenly, “you’d be pretty if you weren’t so…” he trailed off.

“Mean?” you finished, having heard this sort of comment more than a few times.

“No, it’s not that.  The mean thing is sorta hot,” he corrected casually as if it were nothing to say.  You bit your lip and broke the eye contact, trying not to blush.  It was a good thing you didn’t find him attractive- because of course you didn’t, him being this dirty brute and all- but still, it was uncomfortable.

“You’d be pretty,” he decided, “if you weren’t a Marine.”

You laughed and shook your head incredulously.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d be pretty if you shaved that raccoon off your face,” you suggested, “and took a shower.”

You smiled as you left the room.

~

You delayed the mission briefing a day, to give you and the Captain more time to hopefully come to some decision, and you hoped it wouldn’t mean you and your unit had to stay at this camp even just one day longer.  You met with your Marines privately, and they were sympathetic but seemed to be getting along with the other soldiers enough to sympathize with their unwillingness to cooperate.  One soldier said he would only listen to you and not ‘Sy’ as they called him, but you told them to always listen to their commanding officer even if he’s a complete tool.

You were walking back to your quarters for the night when you passed by an open tent, a half-dozen Army boys inside playing cards.

“Hey Major, what size bra do you wear?” a soldier hollered at you, and the others snickered.

“I think they’re bigger than they look in that uniform,” another added.  “Double ‘D’s, at least.”

You stopped and decided to address them, unable to let a comment like that go.

“Oh I’ve got double ‘D’s alright,” you smirked.  “Dishonorable Discharge.”

“Aw, we’re just messing around,” the first dismissed with a frown. “Can’t you take a joke?”

“I can take a joke, but I can take your job, too.  Maybe stay on my good side.”  You winked, just to keep it playful, but you were really screwed either way.  You’d tried playing along with jokes before and all it did was make you seem like some creep and/or slut who liked getting hit on (was this even what that was?) by subordinates.  But getting stern didn’t seem to make you any friends, either.  That’s why you were so comfortable with not having any friends.

“Your good side?  You mean from the back?” one of them murmured, and you wondered if he was trying to be just loud enough for you to hear, or just quiet enough for you not to. 

“Dude, she’s probably a dyke anyway,” Private Lipowitz responded.

“Am I supposed to find that insulting?” you asked him.  He smirked, as did the others, as if it was obvious that you should, but nobody said anything.  “Maybe I am a dyke.  And maybe I could give your girl back home more pleasure in five minutes than you’ve given any woman in your whole life combined, eh Lipowitz?”

“You better not talk about my girl, Major,” he challenged, standing up and puffing up his chest.  “I know you’re not supposed to hit chicks or anything, but seriously, I’ll take out anybody who talks about my girl.”  You decided not to point out that you’re not supposed to hit your commanding officer, ‘chick’ or otherwise.

“Then you better start with your boys first,” you responded, motioning to a few of the other soldiers, “because word on the street is they found those saucy little pictures she sent you.”

Lipowitz turned to the other men with wide eyes, and suddenly you were the only one smiling.  Enlisted seem to talk so much more and so much louder than they realize.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, dashing to his pack, presumably searching for those photos.  When he didn’t find them, he stood up and pushed Private Mason back by the shoulders.

“Where are those fucking pictures, dude?”

“I don’t have ‘em, I swear,” Mason defended, but all the other guys were laughing.

“Seriously, guys, whoever has them, just give them back!”

“You’re not going to want them back in the state they’re in,” another finally admitted, “trust me.”

They all burst into laughter as Lipowitz went on a rampage, yelling and kicking and threatening to beat up the other guys.  You took the commotion as a good opportunity to sneak away mostly unnoticed and get back to your quarters for the night.

You weren’t there very long before you decided to spend some time in your temporary office instead.  You had taken your hair out of the tight regulation bun, intending to change into pajamas and go to sleep, but you remembered some paperwork that needed to be done by tomorrow night and decided to make some progress on it, since the Captain got in the way of your productivity during the day.

Of course, you weren’t an hour into it when he knocked on your door, though you didn’t know it was him until you told him to come in without looking up from your files.

He entered but stopped and didn’t say anything.

“Can I help you?” you asked eventually.

“You look different with your hair down,” he observed, and you looked back at him with a confused expression.

“Yes, I’d figure so,” you replied.

“You sleep in your uniform?” he asked, noticing that you were still in your fatigues, though you’d shed the camo long sleeve and just had on the green undershirt.

“Do I look like I’m sleeping?” you asked incredulously, looking back to your papers.  He snorted but didn’t say anything.  "Besides, I don’t think you’re ever in uniform.“

"Not when I don’t have to be,” he shrugged.  “I’m not sure why you wear it when you don’t have to.”

“I barely get taken seriously with it on, so it’s the least I can do,” you explained.

“About that…” he began, and you looked up in surprise. “I’m sorry they give you such a hard time.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, getting up from your chair to put some papers in your filing cabinet, “you talked to them and heard some of the awful shit they call me.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, you only have yourself to blame for that.  You had plenty of chances to instill respect for authority but you decided it would be more fun, I suppose, to go rogue and turn everyone against me,” you bit back with sarcastic cheeriness.

“Shit, I’m actually trying to be nice to you, and you’re still impossible.  You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he nearly yelled.  You felt like the word ‘brat’ specifically targeted the fact that you were younger than him, which you didn’t appreciate at all- you would rather be judged on your merits, even if the judgment was poor, than be treated differently just because you were young.

“I’m in charge of you,” you corrected, “and you’re refusing to listen to me.  So, if anything, you’re the brat.”

“What I would give to put you in your place right now,” he growled to himself.

“Oh, my place? And what place is that?”

“Bent over my desk and getting your brains fucked out,” he answered with a deep voice.  

A lot of guys probably fantasized about rough sex (or worse) as a means of revenge against you for all those extra push-ups and boot camp humiliations– a few had even made comments about it, though most hadn’t realized you could hear them at the time.  You’d learned quickly how to not let that stuff get to you.  But this got to you… and not in the way you prepared for.  Your face burned and your gut sank and your insides throbbed, as if out of nowhere.

“I figured you liked your women without brains,” you quipped in reply, trying not to show any signs of weakness.  

He dashed to close the space between you, pressing you back against the wall.  He was so big, and he smelled like sweat and beer and pine.  You were surprised, and confused, but you didn’t worry that he would hurt you, for some reason.

“Seems I like my women with a mouth on ‘em, because every time you make some little comment like that, I swear I get harder than steel.”

He pushed his hips into you and yep, there it was.  Your breaths began to stutter but you didn’t want him to see how much this affected you.

“Just wish you put that mouth to better use,” he added with a devilish grin.

“You’d better get back,” you threatened, without actually mentioning any potential consequences.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me,” he purred, and leaned down to speak against your ear.  “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?  I can tell you’re getting turned on when we argue, too.”

“You’re confusing arousal with irritation, Captain.”

“Mmm, I like when you call me that.  I assume the intention is condescending, cause you just have to remind me that you outrank me, but I like it anyway,” he presumed.

“It’s the proper way to address another soldier, nothing condescending about it.  You know, I actually don’t have any problem with your rank.  Or your branch.  My problem is with your personality,” you corrected.

“That’s fair.  I have a big personality,” he smirked, and pressed his erection harder against you… it felt pretty big but you couldn’t get a good impression through your fatigues.

“Well, that might explain your ego,” you murmured.

“Just tell me you don’t want it and I’ll leave you be, we’ll go back to bickering an’ shit,” he offered.  “Just look at me,” he prompted, putting a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him, “and tell me you don’t want it.”

As you met his gaze, you let yourself really get a closer look than you had before.  It had always been obvious that he was good-looking, but right now he looked oddly gentle considering the circumstances.  The look in his eyes lacked the confidence you were expecting… as if he really didn’t know if you wanted him or not.  As if he really wanted you to want him.  As if he really wanted you.  And it had been a long time since someone had looked at you like that.

“Fuck it,” you growled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.  His beard rubbed against your face but it wasn’t as scratchy as you’d imagined- not that you had imagined this or anything.  

He inhaled through his nose and stepped back, pulling you with him and putting a hand on your hair and the other on your hip. 

“Looks like you’ll have to settle for bending me over my desk,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Not gonna bend you over anything yet,” he replied, putting his hands on your butt and lifting you up until you were straddling him in the air.

He walked with you wrapped around him until he could set you down on the desk, and his hands felt so damn big on the small of your waist.

He pulled back so he could pull your shirt over your head, and he took off his own while you slipped off your sports bra.  You both took a moment to stare at each other’s toplessness, a silent acknowledgement that you’d both been wondering about the other’s body.  You ran your hands up and down his chest, and he just looked at you while you did it with a difficult-to-read expression.  Of course you were familiar with muscle, you saw shirtless soldiers all the time and they were all in great shape, but this guy was just enormous.  His shoulders dwarfed you and with him so close you felt uncharacteristically small.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into another kiss, and this one was a bit gentler than the last.  You felt giddy and nervous and so desperate for him; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, honestly.

His hands trailed down your back and you slid off the desk until you were standing.  He spun you around and pushed you down between your shoulder blades until you were face down on the desk, the cold wood making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He reached around your hips to open your button and fly, pushing your pants and underwear down to your knees.  You gasped a bit when you felt the air hit your skin.

“Oh shit, you’re wet already,” he noticed.  “Really wet.”

His fingers slipped through your folds and you tried to spread your legs but the pants got in the way.

“Just fuck me,” you demanded.

“All you know how to do is give orders, huh?” he laughed.

“This might be my first order you actually follow,” you considered, hearing him unzip the fly of his jeans.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he explained, “it’s an all-male unit, after all.”

Internally, you wanted to point out that being in an all-male unit doesn’t stop plenty of soldiers from getting it on, and that he shouldn’t be hooking up with anyone in his unit regardless of gender, but you realized this was not the time for explaining rules.

“Don’t need them,” you replied, “as long as you promise you don’t have anything I can catch.”

“You’re being so reckless,” he teased as his hands ran along your back and grabbed your ass, “it’s so unlike you.  What happened to that stubborn little rule-follower, hm?”

“She got really fucking horny,” you growled, “now get inside me, damn it.”

And without much warning, without any preparation, he slammed himself into you all at once.

“Oh fuck!” you cried out, much louder than you meant to.  He was big, really fucking big, and your walls struggled to fit him.  He didn’t slow down though, instantly setting a fast and brutal pace.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.  Not that I don’t love you screamin’ for me.  But if the other guys found out we were doing this…” he trailed off.  “Actually, I bet I’d be the most popular officer at camp if they knew we were doin’ this.”

“You already are,” you pointed out, struggling to focus on forming sentences. “And we’d both get in a lot of trouble– ah, god– if anybody reported it.”

“You’re right.  Better keep you quiet, then,” he sighed, leaning forward and stuffing two fingers into your mouth.  Your moans became sputters and chokes yet you eagerly sucked on his fingers and took them all the way down your throat.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled.  “If you’d deepthroated my fingers like that when we first met, I bet we’d have gotten along a lot better.”

That’s not really the way I do business, you wanted to respond, but you couldn’t say much when you were busy with the task at hand.

His fingers pulled out and you felt his hands wrap around your elbows.   He grabbed your arms and held them back as he slammed into you so hard that the desk scraped across the floor with every movement.

“So tight,” he observed.  “Bet no one’s done this to you in a long time. Bet what you always needed was a good fuck to loosen you up– literally.”

He landed a hard slap against your ass and you moaned.

“Oh, you like that?  You like it when I hit you?”

“Yes,” you answered through bared teeth.

“Dirty little slut,” he said, but the way he said it sounded more like a compliment than an insult.

He spanked you again, just a bit harder, and you yelped but found yourself pushing your hips into him and arching your back as an invitation for more.  He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, pressing as deep inside you as was physically possible and grinding against you.  You sobbed and he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up until his chest was against your back.

“Anybody ever been this deep inside you before?” he asked, his lips right against your ear.

“No,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck down to your shoulder.  You weren’t sure how to feel about him calling you ‘baby.’

He let go of your hair but kept you close to him by wrapping his arms around you as he started to thrust again.  It was oddly intimate, and your head fell back onto his shoulder as you moaned and sighed and whimpered.

Calloused hands began to grab at your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples; you hadn’t realized how sensitive you were there, because it sent sensation shooting straight down to your inner walls.

“I’m close,” you gritted out.

“That was quick.  You’re easy to please,” he replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Just don’t stop,” you pleaded.  He pushed you back down onto the desk and began to pick up the pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop, I promise you that.” His voice sounded different than normal- deeper and scratchier and oddly weak in a way.  You liked the idea that this had such an effect on him.

His thrusts slammed into you so hard and fast that you were sure you’d have bruises from it, and probably on your thighs where they were hitting the edge of the desk.  For some reason, that thought was what sent you over the edge.

“Ca-captain!” you cried out as you came, and he growled a bit against your ear.  You figured he thought you were calling him that as some sort of sexy nickname, a flash of authority, but it’s just the only thing you could think to call him, the only thing you’d ever really called him.  

He, on the other hand, responded with your first name, even though you’d never gone by it and never even told it to him, mixed in with his grunts and moans as he pulled out and came all over your back.  

It was strange to go from so much noise– skin hitting skin, moans and yelps, the desk screeching on the concrete floor– to just heavy breathing and the sound of the ceiling fan spinning above you.  Or maybe it was you that was spinning; you felt sort of dizzy and numb.

He leaned away from you until you couldn’t feel his touch anywhere, and you heard him zip up his jeans.  You awkwardly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your own underwear and pants as well, and looking around for something to wipe yourself off with.

“Did you come?” he asked, and you felt shame and fear and anger bubble up inside you.  This had been a really, really bad idea, and both of you could lose your jobs over it, or worse. And he was such an asshole and you were supposed to be setting a good example for the women in your unit and here you were with some Army dumbass’ cum all over you and he didn’t even have the courtesy to make sure you’d finished before he did… what a joke.

“Oh, I came alright– came to my fucking senses.  Get out of my office,” you barked.

He laughed like he saw all this coming.

“Your office?  It’s my base.  Everything here is mine.  Even that jizz you’ve got on ya,” he grimaced.  “Kickin’ me out before it’s even gone cold.  You’re a real ray of sunshine as always, Major.”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Major,” you realized. “Let’s make that the only thing done tonight that we turn into a habit, alright?”

He shrugged and turned to leave, but of course, he had to have the last word.  “You can fuck the ice queen but you can’t melt her, I guess.”

“Is that what this was?  Some sort of sexual scavenger hunt, to prove you were macho enough to get the prude to spread her legs?”

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” he grinned.

“I said get out,” you reminded him, hoping he’d leave before you started crying.  He did.

You didn’t cry very often, not something you had the luxury of doing after a decade at war.  And you still didn’t let yourself do it for very long, because you were morally opposed to crying over boys.

[xxrainstormxx]

Save it for the Doctor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(A/N: this is based off a writing prompt. "You're... beautiful." "And you're concussed") Word count; 2,475 Part 2 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

I had heard a lot about the recent murders. I even had seen a few almost survivors on my mom's operation table, yet somehow I was wrapped up in the middle of it. Smack in the middle. No normal citizen even knew the FBI was investigating the murders and yet I was being interrogated. The man who sat in front of me was just mean, he wore a serious look and his eyes never moved from the narrow eyed glare he gave anyone who walked by and especially gave me. I was happy to cooperate, but the minute I was under fire I was fed up and wanted a lawyer. I was no killer, I had no upper body strength to move a dead body and believe me, I would know how much a dead body weighs thanks to my mom training me. I was a tired college student trying to get my damn degree so I could move on with my fucking life. And I was not in the mood to be interrogated when I could be working on my thesis. The mean man, Agent Hotchner I believe was just staring. I guess waiting for me to break or some shit like that? I don't know. I wasn't talking first. I didn't care anymore and this resulted in a match of silently staring waiting for the other one to speak. This went on for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to at least three minutes, I just sighed, "I cave." I sighed muttering curses as I shifted in my seat. "Go on, ask your questions I have a thesis to write and I would like to go home to continue it," I reluctantly urged on. He leaned forward in triumph I think as he demanded answers from me. "Where were you the night of Synthia Robbin's disappearance (Y/N)?" he began dwelling on the poor girls name. It made me frown, she was a 13 year old girl, a child, and she was gone. Kidnapped and found dead. It made me sick to think of what could happen to her. "So that's what this is about?" I hissed disgusted with the accusation "I was at the library with Emmalin." the mention of my sister's name made him further darken. "Your sister, correct?" he inquired. I rolled my eyes, "Yuduh" I sounded sitting back. "All your time is accounted for?" he continued leaving me puzzled for a moment. "There were maybe ten minutes in between where she left to find a book." I murmured unsure if the truth was the right thing to say as he stood and pulled out a file and threw it on the table making me flinch. "What about the night of Chris Bennidict?" he asked "A s-sports game" I stuttered "A baseball game I think. Rockies vs Rangers." I said shaking a little as he threw down that files some of the pictures falling out of the boy, shot twice. "Eunice Quiet, Quiara Basson, Basen Unice, Lynch Gryse, and Philip Jence!" he got  louder with every file he threw at me. "You were near by every single scene and you fit most of our profile" he concluded the pictures that fell out made me physically sick. Children, those poor babies. I sobbed and turned away gagging, he wasn't convinced it was real but I knew it was and up came the vomit that was caught in my throat.

I had no doubt I fit their profile but I worked part time at a daycare. Children were my life line, and it mad me sick to see them hurt. He answered a call and left the room leaving me there to cry over the pictures. A brunette woman walked in and sighed taking me out of the handcuffs attaching me to the bolted down table. "Come on sweetheart. We'll get someone to clean up that." she sighed very tired, I wanted to know why. They brought me out to the main area of the station and sat me down. They slowly cuffed me to the desk and I cried softly. I looked across the station to see Emmalin "Emmy!" I called but was ignored causing me to frown. So I shut up and listen to whatever raving was in my defense, "My baby sib? A murderer?" she asked "well... it isn't that hard to believe," she said making my jaw drop. "They've always been a little too obsessed with the idea of death." A lie, I had an emo phase and so did she, "Introverted" well partially true. "and well she creeps out her friends," she finished causing me to stand suddenly, "Liar!" I shouted "You fucking liar!" I cried ignoring the pain and stress on my wrist the hand cuff was causing. I was now a 45 degree angle due to the cuffs keeping me in place. She seemed genuinely shocked i was there. "Why are you trying to pin this on me. Your own sister!b You were with me everywhere we went and those bodies were found. Why aren't you being questioned too? Did you lie? Did you say I was the only one there?" I screamed as I was sat down. She hissed at me and most of the agents took notice. Agent Prentiss, the nice brunette sighed and walked to my now horrible sister and asked her to follow her into a different interrogation room. It felt like hours that I was sat there, and a curly haired man was sat in front of me just reading, or what I thought was faking, really bad faking. "Why are you even sitting here if you're just going to pretend to read?" I asked the "doctor". My mother was a doctor and I didn't believe this boy was any kind of doctor. I had gotten to know his name as Doctor Reid and I wasn't allowed to call him an agent so I had no other choice. He just looked at me thrown for a moment before shaking his head "I'm not pretending" He stated as he shifted "No one can read that fuckin fast ya damn liar" I muttered not necessarily hostile just a little vexed. "I can. Did you know that our unconscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second? Our conscious minds, however, can process sixteen million?" I sat back unimpressed "You are... absolutely insane" I laughed "Insane, perhaps but I'm not being accused of murder." he stated, and my smile that i worked so hard to get disappeared "You think I did it too." I muttered, it was meant to come as a question but instead it came as a statement. He shook his head "Not fully, while you do supposedly fit the profile our profile, our unsub wouldn't inject themselves into the investigation. The one part that doesn't fit" he said sitting back and crossing his legs turning to the board filled with evidence, and all those pictures that made me sick sat right next to the happy photos of the children in their school uniforms smiling big. I tried to focus on those "Well maybe your profile is wrong, cause this is sick." I hissed "(Y/N), you're here most likely because you were in the wrong places at the wrong times. Kids being picked up and murdered minutes apart from each other, while you were out with your sister at those locations? It's not very probable."

I just sighed knowing he was probably right "There aren't many coincidences when it comes to murder" he stated "Out of uh... curiosity what is an unsub? No normal person knows that is." I muttered as I tried to avoid the board, the thought of being in those places, not helping those kids, not even having a clue what was happening made me sick. "Unknown Subject" Dr. Reid said mumbling "Why aren't you uh... looking at the board. I thought you'd be proud of your work." He said as if to egg me on. I rolled my eyes "Those pictures make me sick." I muttered "I work at a daycare, it's my job to protect kids not watch them get hurt. I don't wanna see dead fucking children!" I shouted realizing I probably sounded fucking crazy and definitely like a kill. I hung my head in shame. "I know... I know it isn't fair to blame myself for what happened to those kids, but being in the places of the crime, the same night it happened, it makes me feel like I could have and should have done something. Something other than just sit there and wonder." I whispered "Yeah I feel guilty now but, not of what you think" I whispered looking to the board once more focusing on the pictures of the children when they were alive. "Sweet innocent babies... Never done anything to anyone. Probably were crying for their mom." I whimpered at the thought "They didn't deserve any of what happened" I looked away once more thinking about the mothers. "Moms.... Their moms" he stood up as if he had a damn epiphany nearly knocking me backwards in the chair. "Morgan, it's not an attack on the children it's an attack on their mothers." He said starting to put of pictures of older women. "think about it. They all went to the same cafe every day. It wasn't the day care, so it can't be (Y/N). They wouldn't see much of the parents" he enthused writing things down that I could not decipher because his hand writing was absolute shit. "But wouldn't that just give them more reason? They think these women are bad mom's for working instead of taking care of the child, and wants to teach them a lesson?" making him shake his head "That's stupid, if they wanted to make them suffer they'd just kill the women themselves, it'd be much more efficient and wouldn't lead to them doing the one thing they would dread doing!" he said circling one name on the board. Emmalin. "That's also sexist. Women work, children can't go with. Why would I have a fucking problem with that" I shouted across the room. "Who fits the profile while also holding these sexist values." Reid stated more than asked pointing to Emma's name again. "Oh dear god." he sighed "But my sister isn't a murderer!" I cried. "She's connected to the murders... and she's made it clear she doesn't think women should work." Morgan stated and went to the interrogation room. "You are a life saver (Y/N)" Reid said kissing my cheek out of pure joy, and I slapped him as a natural instinct and turned red "Shit! I'm sorry! I'm not used to boys doing that if they aren't being creepy! But at the same time that was really fucking creepy" I yelped as he held his face and laughed "No it's fine. Got too excited to fix what felt like a huge mistake." he said, and when I say I turned red I mean red. This was the first time I'd seen him as a human. Not a super genius, not as an agent, not an asshole. Just a normal guy with pretty eyes, a good jaw line, soft hair, and the sweetest smile I had ever seen. The blush was apparently very clear on my (skin color) skin because he hummed and smiled "Did you know blushing is speculated to be caused by a sudden rush of adrenaline making our blood pump faster." I giggled a little "Is that why you're so flushed?" I asked as he blinked not understanding just how damn pink he was after that rant. "Guess so." he shrugged. the door opened and out came Emmalin and she grabbed a ceramic vase off a desk and slammed it down onto Reid's head and ran away quickly. He fell to the floor because it was a heavy fucking vase, and I freaked out as he hit his head on the desk on the way down.

"Shit!" I yelled as half of them chased my very obviously guilty sister and I sat in shock as two of his friends rushed over to help him. Morgan uncuffed me and I blinked "Spencer?" Agent Jareau asked worried and I sat down next to him sitting him up and grabbing a water bottle slashing it on his face "Do not fall asleep." I said firmly "You could very well have a concussion." I said as an ambulance arrived quickly, he was cearly not feeling good because of the way that he was acting. I was worried about how sick he looked. He threw up half way to the hospital so I was told. I went with because I didn't feel safe with my sister on the run and an Agent in the hospital. Well I guess he wasn't an agent he was a doctor. The doctor, not Spencer, came out and i stood with the other two very worried. "He'll be fine. He has a mild concussion." as i thought "but he's awake, and on some pain medication. I take it you all know the situation and his limitations in the field?" he asked and Morgon and Jareau nodded "You can go back to see him now" he said and stepped aside "come on" Jareau said quietly to me "oh. Agent, I don't think he'd want to see me." I said quietly. "I'm sure he would like to know you came. You won't make a very good profiler if you can't even tell that Reid enjoys your company. And call me JJ, it makes it easier," she said giggling and pulled me right back with her and Morgan. "Hey man" Morgan started "What happened?" he muttered groaning in pain. "You got hit with a vase, took a pretty sweet fall, and got a concussion" JJ hummed arms crossed as she leaned on the wall. "Shit." he muttered making me giggle. "Oh hey!" he said when he saw me. "I want water, and jello" he muttered making small lip smacking sounds. "Morgan and I will get it" JJ laughed leaving me in a very awkward situation. "So umm.." I began before being cut off. "You know.. You're beautiful" he said staring at me causing me to snort "And you're concussed." I laughed shaking my head "Well, a concussion based on the severity doesn't necessarily affect your judgement of a person especially if it's a first time thing. I thought you were beautiful long before I was concussed but you were a suspect. Suspects being beautiful, hard to comprehend sometimes." I laughed "You're a dumbass" I snorted "But I-" he blinked and i walked over pecking his lips. "How about a date sometime? I'll give you my number" I said quietly. "Yeah... okay..." he whispered. "A date."

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XXI. Si te vas

BLUE’S POV

The three of them were in my bed when I woke up. Marie and Ollie were under the duvet with me but Jason was on my other side like a kitten sleeping with their human. I don’t remember picking them both up but we must have had or maybe they came here on their own. Whatever the way, I couldn’t ask for better friends.

There’s no new messages in my phone so I text Coco to know her whereabouts and lie awake waiting for them to wake up. The fact that the three of them are here, like walls supporting the ceiling, makes it clear that what happened last night wasn’t a bad dream.

Harry was high. He was so high he couldn’t even talk to me. I remember the way he acted now and God, it was so clear I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. His bloodshot eyes, his calmness, the way he got mad in a second and then back to the calm, the way he seemed to be disconnected to everything that was happening, how he seemed not to care at all.

I wonder what he thinks about me now. I wonder whether he cares at all. Somehow, I still don’t want him to think I’m being judgemental even though maybe I am. I’ve had this discussion plenty of times with plenty of Med students- about weed, yes or no, is it bad or is it less bad than they say?- For no one with biological knowledge dares to say it’s good. Fruit is good, walking is good- weed is not.

And yet it’s probably less harmful than it feels to me but it’s just… Last night I learnt he was the one driving and with that, the entire accident and the months that followed came back; and if that wasn’t enough he was high, just like Dylan was; and I wonder why Harry’s here and Dylan isn’t, why some people get another chance- and still smoke weed- and why some others just can’t live to change it.

I’ve never really believed in destiny. I don’t think our lives are written and we’re just players in a big board, thinking we’re free and taking decisions that were already going to happen anyway but sometimes, I do believe that there might just be this person, this person in the world that’s for you, the one who’s going to walk by your side for the rest of your life. I used to think that feeling of belonging with someone didn’t happen twice so I always thought I had it with Dylan and I will never have it with anyone else and somehow I liked that and I lived by that. But then I met Harry and for a second I thought I might have been wrong all this time and now the fact that his story could be superimposed to Dylan’s and it would connect... I feel like if this was a sci-fic movie and we have these parallel worlds and these alternative universes, Harry might as well be Dylan, in another body and with another face and another scent and that’s what I don’t want.

I loved Dylan. I loved him as much as a person can love another human being and I don’t think there’s ever been purer love but he also broke my heart to the point where I thought I was dying too. And he did because he changed and then because he died so I lost him twice all along and I just can’t go through that again.

“Morning, pixie.” Marie gives me a sleepy smile that I return. “How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly good. I don’t remember getting here but I haven’t woken up until just now.”

“It makes sense that you were tired considering how drunk you were last night.” Jason’s voice is muffled against the duvet but I can still hear him.

I hit the back of his head with a pillow and he grunts.

“I don’t think you can call her out on that, pal.” Marie defends me.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Jason complains.

“Until you stood up on that table and take off your shirt and started yelling titties out, free the gay! you mean.” Ollie adds.

Marie and I laugh at the look Jason gives her. His eyes are widened, and his lips are set on a thin line. Before he can ask her whether that’s true, which I hope it is for the sake of humour, someone knocks on the door.

“Pasa.” I tell her. “But please be clothed. We have guests.”

Coco is grinning from ear to ear when she appears on the doorway.

“Oh, hi!” She chirps excitedly. “You guys slept like that?”

We all nod and she laughs. Olivia sits up and pushes Marie to do the same so my sister has a spot next to them. She’s wearing party clothes, which gives away that she didn’t spend the night home.

“So” Olivia wriggles her dark blond eyebrows “Guido Matteoti, hey?”

My sister smiles despite pursed lips and that’s all I need to know Chicco is history. Yes, Guido! I sit up too and Jason rests his cheek on his fist so Coco knows she has our undivided attention. Her cheeks tinge pink.

“He’s very sweet.” She starts. “I mean we’ve only been in a couple of dates but-”

“But you didn’t sleep home last night.” I raise my eyebrows and she shakes her head with a smile.

“And nothing happened.” She adds. “We just cuddled.”

The four of us look at her and from the corner of my eye I can see Marie melting while Olivia’s face seems like a puzzle missing a piece and Jason just blinks.

“He’s… I’ve never had this, you know? It’s like I tell him something mindlessly… Like something that isn’t really even important and he remembers it.” She smiles. “I mean last night he said something about Nana’s cameo and he had to tell me when I have told him about it because even me myself couldn’t remember.” She surprises. “And… He is interested in what I think and what I want and… I mean some guys have made me feel pretty, but he makes me feel interesting and that’s just so much better.”

“See?” Marie tilts her neck to give me a look and I smile. “It’s possible.”

“Do you like him though?” Olivia presses. “I mean him, as a person, not the way he makes you feel.”

Coco stares at her like a deer caught in headlights before she tilts her neck like a dog thinking. I’m taken aback too by Ollie’s deep understanding of the situation. She’s been so disassociated with the love department that it feels strange to have her understanding this so deeply.

“Yes, I do.” Coco blushes. “He’s smart and funny and caring and kind. And so handsome.” Her eyes open wide and Olivia laughs.

“Can we see him?”

“Yeah, show us the regulation photo, girl.” Jason adds.

My sister chuckles before she gets on her phone and shows us his Instagram. I have seen him before so I let my friends be as nosy as they want. Coco’s eyes meet mine and she frowns concerned.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

And like that I’m crying again. My sister jumps over my friends and takes a seat next to me, wrapping her small arms around my body and reminding me of home. Marie tells her what happened and Ollie and Jason curse under their breath. They did that last night too, I remember now.

“I’m good, I’m good.” I wipe my tears and sit back straight. “I’ll get over it.”

Coco sighs next to me and Jason gives me a smile.

“Unpopular opinion” Olivia says “I think we’re being too hard on him.”

Us three give her a death glare and she raises her hands on the air proving her innocence.

“Let’s go get started with breakfast, Ollie.” Coco says before war starts on my mattress.

“Yes, I need to tell you some things too.”

“Me too.” Jason smiles. “Spoiler alert: David is a dick.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…”

The three of them walk outside the room and we hear the beginning of the conversation with Jack’s name being thrown around among very colourful insults.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” I ask Marie.

“I’m visiting my mum.” She shrugs. “And her new boyfriend.”

“Nice.” I chuckle.

“You?”

“I think I’m gonna go spend some days with my dad. I need to get away from here.”

“And your mum?”

“Mum’ll go to Spain, I guess. It’s been a while since I don’t visit Dad.” I feel Marie nodding next to me. “I’m gonna hop on the shower.”

“Okay.”

“You can shower in Coco’s bathroom if you’d like.”

“Do I stink or what?” Marie laughs.

I give her a silent smile and make my way inside my bathroom. I don’t have much time because Coco, Ollie and Jason are not precisely the best chefs so I’m sure by getting started with breakfast they mean adding milk to cereal.

I let the hot water run down my body relaxing every muscle I hadn’t realized was tensed. Thinking about going back home is never been as easy as it is now. It’s always painful to go back to Capitol because it screams Dylan all over the place but it’s been a while since I don’t see Dad or Rio and I’m in the mood for a family Christmas.

When I make my way towards the kitchen, I hear them all talking about Harry and me but it doesn’t bother me because it doesn’t surprise me. I know they’re on my side anyway, even Ollie.

I announce my plans to everyone during brekafast and Coco and Jason decide to tag along  to Capitol for Christmas too. Coco was the expected guest but I’m glad Jason wants to join too. It’ll be good to have a friend around when I start missing Dylan like the first day after his accident. Jason says he needs a change of scene and to stay away from David and I’d rather have him with me than getting back together with the devil.

We pack our stuff after breakfast and plan a videocall all together in a few days before Marie and Ollie leave to pack their own things. Olivia’s going to France to meet up with her family too but she seems to be very invested in my relationship with Harry or my lack of it.

Coco drives to Capitol, all the way without stopping once, and I feel safe when she’s behind the wheel. I’ve never understood how men can say women are bad drivers when women seem to be better at everything. Okay, that’s sexist too, but the fact that we’re asked to do double to earn the same amount explains why that could be true.

It's the first time Jason comes to Capitol despite our four years of friendship. When Dylan was alive, it was usually him go would come visit and during holidays J was usually with his family so I would go to Capitol alone. I hope the idea he has of me doesn’t change when he sees my house. I guess it won’t, because I know his parents have an equally big mansion but still…

The dark grey fence opens for my sister’s car after she sets the code and my sister’s Mercedes drives inside our sumptuous property. She drives around the fountain at the entrance and the set of pine trees on both sides of our private road brings back memories of my childhood underneath them.

The house looks more like a palace than I even remembered. I don’t quite know how many hectares of land my father owns but I know the entire house have glass walls looking at the back because there was no need to hide from nothing at all; there’s just a pine forest and snowy mountains behind it. I reckon if Jason was still a kid, I could tell him my dad’s a vampire and he’d probably believe it.

Dad’s waiting at the door with a big smile and his thick winter coat when we get off the car. My sister runs to hug him as Jason and I get the bags out of the boot. Then it’s my turn. My dad wraps his warm, big arms around me and presses my body against his bigger one.

“Oh, my lovely girls! How’s my favourite doctor?”

“Hi, dad, it’s nice to see you.”

“It’s very nice to see you too, Blueberry. I made soup and lamb for dinner.” He smiles.

“Thank you.”

“And garlic bread?” Coco asks. “Can we make garlic bread?”

“Already in the oven.” My dad winks at her and like that my sister is back to being. “Hello, Jason.” My dad shakes his hand. “I’m glad you could join us this year.”

“Thank you for having me, Peter.”

“No need to thank us. It’s our pleasure. Well, why don’t you show Jason around, Berry? Coco and I will get the mulled wine ready.”

“Yes! Mulled wine! This is paradise, dad. Where’s Rio?”

“He’s at the gym.” My dad explains. “Says he needs to make room for the lamb.”

The three of us laugh before my dad and Coco disappear down the hall towards the kitchen and Coco’s cheerful voice gets lower and lower until we can barely hear her. I show Jason around the entire house, the halls, the living room, the dining room, my dad’s studio... 

We climb the stairs. I get ready to open the door to my old room. I take a deep breath and keep telling him some stories about the house, like about that time Coco fell down the stairs when she was about six and everyone was so worried and then she just yelled I’m okay! from the bottom. 

Entering my room, I set my eyes on my empty desk. It looks like the room of someone who’s not there anymore and in a way I guess that’s what it is. This is the room of the girl I used to be but there’s little of her now. 

I remember it used to be a mess. I have lots of books and even now they’re all organized in the shelves like a library now, they used to be all over the room and all my records, now also carefully placed on the shelf, used to be all around too. It gives me chills to see the room like this but I guess it would be harder if it still looked just like it used to. I would notice Dylan’s absence more. 

“Berry, eh?” Jason teases. 

I roll my eyes. My dad always calls me with the most ridiculous nicknames ever. I’m going to defend myself but my breath catches on my throat when I see the bed. I remember every night I spent there with him and I know it would never come back. I storm out of the room. 

Jason’s quiet for the biggest part of the rest of the tour until he leaves his bags on his bed in the guest room. My mum decorated this room with warm colours because she says they help make the guest feel cosy and at home. I guess it depends on the guest for someone whose house was cold colour themed would hardly feel at home in a terra coloured room but if Mum says that’s the way it is, then that must be the way it is. She’s the painter after all. 

“I just have a question” he says “why did you never tell us you’re the princess of Genovia?”

I laugh and sit down on the cushion bench on the feet of his bed.

“I mean, this is the guest room and it’s bigger than the girls’ apartment in Grad.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head. “The living room might be.” I joke and he laughs. “I usually sleep here when I come home though. I was in my room when Dylan had the accident and sometimes it just gets suffocating in there.” I explain.

Jason stays quiet and I enjoy his silence for sometimes there’s little one can say.

We were on the phone. We were fighting. He had come visit me that weekend and it had been the best weekend we had had in months. The last part of our relationship was as messy as it could get; we would fight all the time. I would fight him about the weed and about how he was... Losing himself all the time. And he would tell me I had changed a lot and that everything in my life was perfect except from him and he would invite me to just break up with him and have a doctor boyfriend if I was so disappointed on him. I heard the crash. And then he died.   

“You can come sleep here if that happens.” Jason smiles. “Or we can swap rooms.”

I shake my head. I want to at least try. It’s been almost four years now and as tough as that memory is, I also have memories I treasured with my life. I remember Mum signing to me when I was little, Dad telling stories to Coco and me, Coco climbing in my bed when she was little and had nightmares. And I remember Dylan, I remember him trying to teach me how to play the guitar, me teaching him to braid my hair and I remember kissing him and him telling me he loved me. 

“Have you talked to David?” I need to stop thinking about that. 

“After breaking up with him, you mean?”

I nod and he shakes his head.

“I blocked his number and blocked him on every social media. Also deleted the apps at the risk of him creating a fake profile so as to be able to talk to me. I know it’s crazy but-”

“So is he.” I interrupt him, probably finishing his sentence and he chuckles.

“That’s right.”

I snort a chuckle and look down at my hands over the cushion. I’m sure this week I’m going to be out of it a lot of the times but I think Jason needs some time to himself too so it’s good our two sad asses are here together.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Have you talked to him?”

My heart stops. For a second, I think he’s talking about someone who’s dead but then I shake my head. I did tell Harry not to contact me again and as strange as it seems knowing him, he might be respecting that. I don’t know if I really want him to though but I know it’s what’s best.

“Should we go downstairs have some of that mulled wine?”

“Yes, please.”

Dad and Coco are sitting in front of the chimney with a glass of mulled wine each when we join them. She’s telling him about Guido now. I feel bad for mum but she can’t keep a secret to save her life so it makes sense she wouldn’t tell her yet.

“Hi, guys.” My dad greets. “Do you like your room, Jason? Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, sir, thank you. It’s incredible.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Please, take a seat and help yourself with some wine.”

“Thank you.”

“So how are you, Dad?” I ask. 

“Can’t complain.” He smiles. “Rio’s doing great at the bank and we’re happy and my daughters are home for Christmas. Couldn’t ask for anything else.”

I smile at the sweet man who raised me.

“How are you, Berry?”

“I’m…” Should I tell him? “I’m good.”

He smiles but I know it’s his way of silently saying we both know that’s not true so I smile back and it’s my silent way of letting him know I don’t particularly want to talk about it.

“Have you seen the Meyers?”

My dad’s light hazel eyes set on mine. I know he’s taken aback by my serenity. I think I want to have a cup of tea with Dylan’s parents but it’d be great to have some background before I contact them.

“They passed by the bank in the morning, wished Merry Christmas like usual. Amalia cut her hair. It looks good on her.”

“I think I’m gonna text them. See if they’d like to have a cup of tea.”

“I think they’d love to.” He smiles. “I’m proud of you, Blue.”

I nod and give him a little smile and we all hear the door opening and my brother’s feet shuffling inside the hall. He drops his gym bag on the floor and Jason gets more excited than any of us. He’s got Rio’s fever.

“It smells like women in here.” Rio jokes.

“It smells like mulled wine, dofus.” Coco explains and he grins.

“Long time no see, Coconut.”

“She’s been busy with her boyfriend.”

“DAD!” She panics. “That’s exactly what I meant!”

My dad just laughs and then Rio’s interrogation begins. He asks for pictures, age, family name, degree and every little thing in between and Coco answers but cries for help at least five times.

I help my dad set the table while he finishes up with dinner and then the five of us sit around the table and enjoy dinner among shared stories of Rio’s adventure on the bank and the rumours he’s heard. Harry would like this nosy conversation too. But why am I thinking about him? He’s a junkie and a liar.

My dad tells us a messy love story between two of his associates and Rio adds the juicy comments every now and then. Coco and Jason are really invested but I know my dad is just filling in the conversation so I don’t have to participate. Much like me, he’s never been interested in other people’s business. As a matter of fact, he’s been in charge of the Anderson Bank for over thirty years and has never had trouble with any employee. He only learnt about relationships when he got invited to his employees’ weddings.

I look up to my father. He’s had everything handed to him on a silver platter but he’s able to admit it. He knows half the things he has, he doesn’t even deserve. For years I thought the right thing to do was getting rid of all of that but growing up I learnt, it’s a lot more useful to be a part of the system and make a change from within. 

Harry: Where are you?

I turn my phone upside down and look at my dad, pretending to listen. We usually disagree on pretty much everything but he still talks to me about politics and economy and all that and I like the way he disagrees with me. He gets frustrated because he treats me like an equal.

Where are you? 

My dad used to say I could do anything I wanted. He told my entire family I’d make a great cook when I was about sixteen just because I had taken upon creative cuisine and cupcakes with fondant and heart shapes. 

What does he care where I am? 

And then when I was seventeen, I started playing volleyball and he told everyone I’d be the national champion.

Why does he think it’s okay to text me at dinner time and ask my whereabouts?

And then… Then… Ugh, I can’t get the text out of my head.

“Blue, is everything alright?”

I look up at my brother’s concerned eyes and only then I realize I’ve been torturing the dead lamb on my plate. I clear my throat.

“Yes, I just have a virus or something on my phone.” I give him a tight smile.

“Alright.” He chuckles.

Jason types on his phone and gives me a look so I grab mine to see his text. There are messages from Harry.

Jason: What’s wrong?

Indie: Harry texted me.

Harry: Come on, Blue, it’s me.

Harry: Open the door.

“Who wants dessert?”

“Let it be chocolate coulant, let it be chocolate coulant.” Coco prays with closed eyes.

My dad laughs and makes his way to the kitchen with as many plates as he could get and Jason follows suit helping pick up stuff from the table. Rio hisses for me to look at him.

“Is the virus that guy you were seeing?”

“How do you even know about that?” I narrow my eyes at him threateningly so he would confess nothing but the truth.

“Mum and I talk, you know.” He shrugs.

I roll my eyes but his hand rests atop of mine on the table.

“If you want his legs broken, just say the word.”

“Rio!” I chuckle and he smiles.

“I’m just saying.”

         After dinner, Jason and I sit on the balcony despite the cold. We brought a little mulled wine and got blankets from the wardrobe before we sat down on my favourite part of the house. I have two armchairs and a small table in between on my balcony and the view is magnificent. You can see the mountains behind a huge, now snow-covered, forest of pines.

“Did you text him back?”

I shake my head.

“And do you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want to.” I sigh.

“I think it does.”

I tilt my neck to give him a warning glare.

“Olivia and I have talked.”

“About me?” I frown. “And why do you think I care about that?”

“I agree with her.” He confesses.

I have a long sip of my wine to busy my tongue and not curse at him.

“For all we know, it must have been the first time he smoked weed. I mean, think about it, he was really affected wasn’t he? And he told you several times he didn’t want to talk in that moment. He didn’t want to discuss it with you while he was high, Indie. I think that means he cares.”

“I think that means he was that high he couldn’t even think properly.”

“And yet he was lucid enough to know that was not how he wanted to be when he talked to you about that.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him. I just think you’re overreacting, which is normal, I mean. We all know why you took it like that but he doesn’t, does he?”

I sigh and look ahead at the mountain.

“I mean… You’re getting mad at him because he didn’t tell you about that but there’s a lot of things you didn’t tell him about, either. Can you get mad at someone for keeping secrets from you while keeping secrets yourself?”

“I don’t do drugs, Jason. It’s not the same.”

Jason sighs.

“Before it happened, you were… Happy. I haven’t seen you that happy since Dylan passed” he whispers that part, afraid to bring upon us the weight of those words “and it’s all on Harry.” He shrugs. “So I think he deserves to at least be listened to. I mean you don’t even know why he was high.”

“Because he smoked weed, Jason, there’s just one explanation.”

“I mean why he smoked.” He chuckles. “Haven’t you thought about that?”

No, I haven’t.

“It was a family reunion, J. You weren’t there but it was cousins and aunts and his mum for the love of God. Who gets high with his family there? It was his older sister’s birthday.”

“That’s right. The same sister who was on the car the night he crushed it. Now, I don’t know why he crushed the car or how the accident was but neither do you and don’t you think it must be hard? Whatever the reason was, to be at your sister’s birthday, someone who’s on a wheelchair somehow because of you?”

My anger drops a knot. Or two.

“You said he doesn’t drink, right?”

I nod.

“And he… He has trouble sleeping.” I add.

He’s tortured about his sister’s accident and now I understand it a lot more. He lied to me that one time too, when he explained to me why he felt so terrible about it. He doesn’t feel guilty because he didn’t help during her recovery. He feels guilty because he thinks it’s his fault and for all I know it might be.

“He should have told me sooner.”

“That’s true.” Jason agrees. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad. You have every right to be. Just… Don’t pretend like you don’t care about him.”

I feel my bottom lip quivering, but this is just Jason. It’s okay to cry in front of Jason.

“I… I don’t want to do it again, J; to think I can fix him because I can’t. I’ve been there before and I don’t want that again. He…”

Warm arms wrap around me so I rest my head on his shoulder.

“He’s not Dylan, Indie. He wasn’t driving that night.”

             I think I fell asleep after that because I wake up on Jason’s bed and see him peacefully sleeping beside me. I’m happy he’s here and I’m happy he’s finally free from fucking David Dick. He didn’t deserve the way he treated him, no one does. I have five missed calls and new texts from Harry. He really isn’t given up, is he? 

Harry: I know you’re with your dad. I’m glad you’re okay and with your family.  

Harry: I’m truly sorry, Indie.

I don’t like it that he calls me Indie. It feels like we’ve gone backwards but then again I guess we have. I don’t answer him because I still need to think. I’m not sure what I want even and I know if I see him or even hear his voice he’ll get in my head and I’ll say yes to anything he has to say because that’s how much of a fool I am.

I think I’ll go to the lake today, show Jason our rope and where we go in the summer. I get up from the bed carefully so as not to wake the Sleeping Beauty and make my way downstairs. Dad’s having a cup of coffee reading his newspaper in the kitchen and the image is so familiar I feel like nothing has ever happened. I wrap my arms around his chest from behind and know he’s smiling.

“Morning, Blue.”

“Morning, Dad. How did you sleep?”

He looks me in the eyes. I frown and suddenly feel the air falling on top of our shoulders. It’s like without saying a word, he set the mood for something terrible. I rest my hand on his shoulder.

“What is it, Dad?”

“I don’t want to scare you” and that’s how you scare someone “but… I’ve been feeling a little weird these past few weeks. I’ve been more tired than usual, more… Anxious, I guess I’d say and my chest started hurting just after walking to the bank every day so I went to the doctor and they did this bunch of tests, you know and it was all good except from an X-ray from my chest.”

“What is it?”

“They found a nodule next to my heart.” He swallows. “Now they don’t know yet whether it is on the lungs or the heart or the aorta or even the thyroid so they have to do some more tests but… They said it could be a tumour, Berry.”

His words are a direct punch in the guts but I know what he needs right now is not me crumbling so I do what I can to give him a smile.

“Well, it could just be. There’s a hundred other things that could be and even if it was a tumour, it might be a benign one and even if it was bad, the diagnose might be in time to fix it if they didn’t treat it like something urgent.”

“Thank you.” My dad smiles. “I know how hard it is for you not to say what your doctor’s mind is thinking.”

“This is my doctor’s mind speaking actually.” I tell him. “My daughter’s mind is running wild but doctor Anderson is calming Blue down.”

He smiles again and gets up from his chair and starts making French toasts for everyone. He shows me the x-ray and I pretend I don’t get scared shitless when I see it. The lump is as big as a peach and is right next to his heart. Now I don’t know what that is but it can’t be good.

Harry: Indie, I’m trying to give you space but I suck at this and I think the more space I give you, the harder it’s gonna be for you to listen to me.

Harry: I miss you.

Harry: And I’m very sorry.

“Who’s that?” My dad smirks. “Is that your boyfriend?”

How can he even care about it after what he just told me? His nosiness surprises me so I just stare at him as if the devil had possesed him. 

“Yeah, Blue, is that your boyfriend?” Jason smirks too.

I give him a death glare.

“Good morning, Jason.” My dad tells him.

“Good morning, Peter. So, what is it? Is he your boyfriend?”

“Don’t make dumb questions, Jason.”

“There are no dumb questions, honey.” My dad teases.

“Just dumb people, I guess.”

Jason just laughs and starts setting the table for breakfast as if he has been here before.

“Are you mad at a boy, honey?” My dad presses.

“If it was just at the boy, Peter, it wouldn’t be so bad.” I death glare at Jason again but it seems like he wants war today. “She’s mad at the world. She always is.”

“What was that?” I frown.

“Nothing.” Jason shrugs and gets the empty plates on the table. “I just want you to talk to him, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

“So there is a he! I knew it.”

“Dad, stop.”

My phone screen illuminates and both Jason and I see Harry’s name. I defy him with my glare but he shakes his head. He’s not Ollie. Olivia would have picked up.

“He doesn’t give up.” My dad adds.

I can’t believe him. I grab my phone keen to set an end to this.

Indie: I’m with my family. I’ll talk to you if I want to.

Harry: Please want to.

Harry: Thank you for answering.

Oh, no, he’s going to act all kind and innocent now. I hate it. He’s not like this. He’s smug and irritating, he isn’t sweet and delicate.

After breakfast, Jason agrees to go for a run with Rio. I almost go along because Jason never runs, he just said he did to impress Rio, so I bet that has to be funny but I have something else in mind. 

Coco and Dad stay home to set the Christmas tree and I go to the lake with an old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and my laptop. I re-read the book I’ve read at least five times and promise to myself I won’t google my dad’s x-ray, I know that’s probably the silliest thing to do but...  I send an email to professor Gibbins. I trust him and would like to know what he thinks. A second opinion is a thing. 

He sends me his phone number and tells me to call him and that scares me to death.

“Hello, Indigo.”

“Hi, doctor Gibbins.”

“Call me Danny, dude.” He laughs.

I swallow but appreciate the easing. I wonder if he’s using one of the techniques we learn in Comunication with me but don’t waste more time before I tell him what my dad told me in the morning. He sighs.

“Well, I’m seeing the radiography as we speak and I mean it could be anything.”

“Yeah but it doesn’t look good, does it?”

“He needs a surgery.”

Harry’s voice freezes my blood. I wasn’t expecting to hear his accent so soon, much less to say that. 

“Am I on speaker mode?”

“Mmm… Yes, I’m sorry. I’m at work and Harry was here. I thought two doctors were better than one.”

He’s probably right. Plus, Harry is the smartest person I know and I’m actually glad he asked him because as mad as I am at him I would love to know his opinion on this. He’s brilliant. I have no doubt of that. 

“Does he have high blood pressure, Indie?” Harry asks me.

“Yes.” I frown. 

“And did he feel a pain in the chest recently?”

“Yes!” 

There he is playing his magic. 

“I think it’s an aortic dissection. Look at it, it’s an A type.”

That last part wasn’t for me but for Danny. Why is he so smart? Why does everything he says seem so interesting and impossibly right to me? And why does he always make me feel safer and better? Why can’t he be normal, just like any other guy? And why did he have to ruin everything like that?

“If you need anything else, I can help you too.” Harry says very softly, as if he was afraid I was going to hang up.

“I know, and still I called Danny, didn’t I?” I sigh. “What do you think, Danny?”

“I think he’s right.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I hang up without saying goodbye and hold my tears in before opening my book again. 

"First of all," he said, "if you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view ... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 28: 3x01 Spock’s Brain

Today’s ep was the infamous Spock’s Brain. I’d never seen it before and always insisted I didn’t want to but...this is a complete rewatch so I guess I kinda had to.

As predicted, it was bad. Utter nonsense for a premise and the actual execution shot through with sexism. There were some aspects that I did like but most of them have been done better by other eps--and in any case were not worth the ridiculous basis of the ep itself. Honestly, if I were watching all this live, and I waited months for this, I might have wondered if the show weren’t better off cancelled.

But I would have been wrong because the next ep is The Enterprise Incident so! Sometimes you just need to be patient.

This episode is starting out so strangely. Why is the bridge being shot from all these weird angles? And why do the colors seem...duller?

They really can spy on these other ships, huh?

“My name is Captain James Kirk.” Not breaking out the middle initial today, I see.

Chapel going for the drama as she falls down.

Kirk too, sprawled over his chair. (Makes me think of “The chair is, in fact, not bolted to the ground.”)

This honestly reads like a bad parody of Star Trek.

Ridiculous lines include: “His brain is gone.” “His incredible Vulcan physique.” “In search of his brain.” “Where are you going to look for his brain?” “It was taken out, it can be put back in.”

“Spock’s body is more dependent on his brain” than a human’s. Ummmm I feel like there’s something suspicious in there.

The only good thing about this ep is Kirk’s devotion to Spock.

Seriously why does the bridge look so different? Filming it from a different location changes everything.

When Kirk paces in front of the view screen, it really shows off how small it is.

“The spaceship that has Spock’s brain.”

I like these schematics and Chekov’s little presentation here. Also Kirk can automatically put years to all the planet evolution codes or whatever--like on the one hand, of course he can, that’s his job, but on another... what a nerd.

Honestly these people--obviously, they are underground on the ice planet. Obviously!!! I actually do appreciate this scene in general, with the bridge crew working out a problem on the bridge, which actually almost never happens--it’s definitely the best scene of the ep--but still. It’s obviously the ice planet.

Also, I like that Uhura gets to contribute. She thinks outside of the box, asks the good questions. Don’t just look at the outside evolution of the planet--ask about what the brain could be used for, and where it might be.

“Get there, find the brain.”

Oh no, he accidentally called Scotty Spock :(

“High of 40. Livable.” I realize this is a Russian joke but that’s really not that bad lol. Definitely not an ice age anymore.

“They give pain and delight.” So they’re dominatrixes?

“You are small.” Well no need to be mean about it.

Don’t you have a companion?? Love that that’s one of their synonyms for “spouse” or “partner.”

The alien men look like they’re wearing short jean skirts.

“A dead and buried city on a planet in a glacial age.” That’s a good idea. Could have done something better with that.

Chekov’s still stuck on the no women thing, I think.

Why did they dress Spock in a leftover outfit from This Side of Paradise?

McCoy and his stimulants again, waking up the alien lady after they stunned her. Multi-purpose.

“I know nothing about a brain.” Clearly.

So all the women live below ground, and all the men live above...

Ah-ha, they have found Spock’s voice.

“There is a definite pleasurable experience connected with the hearing of your voice.” This ep is almost worth it for that line.

Also Kirk’s face when he hears Spock’s voice.

I like that Spock is still funny. Honestly he’s probably funnier disembodied. This is a very humorous Spock characterization. “That is a practical idea. It seems unlikely that I shall be able to get to you.”

WHAT IS BRAIN.

They’re being quite sexist, aren’t they? “No engineering geniuses here. Only women. None of these women could ever have done surgery on Spock’s brain.” Like I know it’s that they’re obviously (or supposedly obviously) naive and childlike but like combining that with the sex segregated society and the actual phrasing of these lines (WOMEN?? Engineers?? Doctors??) plus Kirk assuming the Controller is a man (who says?) all creates this like definite sexist vibe while watching. Ugh make it stop.

How can Spock’s brain control everything? They’ve only had it for 5 minutes.

“Mistress.” I told you they were dominatrixes.

Oh yeah Captain Sulu!!

More sexist quotes: “What a way to maintain control over a man.” “I’ve certainly noticed their delightful aspects.” Please stop talking; you’re digging yourselves in a deeper hole.

(Seriously though--I feel like the unspoken world building fact here is that the women need the men for procreation specifically, which is why they capture the men, and then control them--using the “pain belts”--to have sex--the “pleasure.” They probably also use them for other labor, given the presence of the male guards and the line “they won’t help us if we don’t control them” or whatever it was. But surely the delightfulness of the women is more than their physical appearance, is what I’m saying.)

What is the commentary on gender here? Women = scary, dumb, and hot?

Yeah, how DOES Spock’s brain fit into this?

Lol at Spock’s empty body calmly watching them all fighting.

“Science will triumph.” A real lost opportunity in the AOS-verse to have Kirk say this after a bar brawl.

“You are a disembodied brain.” I feel like there’s a (McCoy) joke in here about how he’s reached his ideal state.

His body is the building. (I was right, I totally called this plot point as soon as Spock started talking about his incredibly large body and how his brain was still doing things like regulating oxygen. I must say... this is not a bad idea, except for the brain stealing part. Like there’s something in there, the idea of the complex as a body, powered by a brain. Idk.)

So basically Spock is taking another opportunity to insult Bones’ medical skills. Oh Spock, never change.

I feel like Bones is enjoying his Spock puppet, on some level.

“Pain bands.”

Use the Spock puppet, Kirk! Use it to fight the lady alien!

“The controller is young and powerful, perfect.” / “How very flattering.” LOL I can’t believe this is real.

“You took his brain. You will put it back.”

So the alien lady puts on the spiky helmet and now she’s suddenly smart. I hate thissssssssssss.

(I actually do think the idea of old knowledge stored outside of the... brains...of the current generation, for their own protection, as decided by the paternalist elders... is not itself a bad concept. Of course it’s also a concept that other eps did better, like The Apple or For the World is Hollow or even Return of the Archons. Again, combining it with all the gross things they said about women earlier just leaves a bad taste. Even though--even though!!--we don’t know who the elder people were. Like, was this a matriarchal society that saved the women in the underground because they were better? Or was it a patriarchal society that put the women in the underground because they were considered weak and in need of protection? I rather assumed the second, but I think there’s some evidence for the first, in particular, that the story reeks of Sexualized Male Fear. What’s a better combination of hot and scary than a matriarchy of women in short skirts?)

“Got your gun.” (But the other way around.)

“Our need for the Controller is more important than your need for your friend.” That sounds an awful lot like “The needs of the many outweigh needs of the one” and we all know what Kirk thinks about that. That said, he’s really not...engaging with her facially fair argument at all.

“No one may kill a man. Not for any purpose. It cannot be condoned.”

Love Scotty’s acting skills. Gotta get this gun back really fast--create a diversion by fainting! But not too much!

I do love McCoy. He’s an adventurer too. He pretends he’s not but he jumps at the chance to discover and learn. He will not hesitate to put himself in danger if it’s for the common good or to protect his friends.

“Put the teacher on.”

Now finally Kirk is engaging with the fate of the society he’s encountered lol. Like, again, he’s not wrong; they’ve stagnated under the computer/controller and it’s not moral to steal from someone else to keep your comfortable and boring life going when you could just do the work yourself, but coming this late, it feels like an afterthought. It’s also weird that she just like stood by and let them take Spock and his brain after all that to do about...not letting them have the brain. Like at the end of the day she was not so inept. Also, they never explained what happens to all the knowledge in the teacher. One would assume they’d have to access it--or not? They’re just to start from scratch? Also legit I guess. And finally... all I can really hear, in the emphasis on integrating with the men again, is “You’ll learn how to develop a society naturally and also about heterosexual sex wink wink.” (Except that as I said... I think they know about that.)

I see McCoy’s regretting that “child’s play” talk now.

“Give priority to reconnecting Spock’s vocal cords.” Yep that’s how the brain works for sure.

Wow Spock really does have to do everything himself. Including operate on himself.

“This Vulcan is telling me how to operate.”

How did he operate without...opening Spock’s skull... in any way??

Not to question the verisimilitude of Spock’s Brain lol.

Everyone’s being so rude--Spock is providing valuable last minute exposition/explanation about this weird-ass society!

It’s always odd when they don’t return to the bridge. Like, they’re not going to collect Chekov?

That was... something.

I liked a few things: any excuse for Kirk to be devoted to Spock; the humor Spock showed; I liked the bridge scene where they looked at the map of the planets; and I liked certain things about the premise of the episode, although, like I said, most of the general aspects (post-disaster society, reliance on computers, etc.) had been done better in other episodes. I liked the look into the Male Brain lol.

What I didn’t like was how outright ridiculous the basic catalyzing event was--Spock’s brain has been literally stolen like??? Are you kidding me? That led to a considerable amount of dialogue that read like a Star Trek parody. Did not like that. And of course, as I said... the sexism. I think I’ve unpacked that enough. It didn’t need to be sexist, and you can explain it in a way that’s not, but the vibe sure was. It was like... well a lot of TOS is like this imo. You can give it an A (or at least a B) for effort, but what comes out is so obviously tainted by the sexism of the creators. Like, for example, how they say they believe in women who are just as capable and professional as men, but struggle to show it. This ep wanted to show a matriarchal society but it wasn’t really a matriarchal society--it was a Freudian dream that was all about the male psyche and what it most fears and wants.

All that said.. the next ep is a D.C. Fontana creation featuring one of my favorite TOS Ladies, the Female Romulan Commander, so I will be receiving a consolation prize.

Also the AOS verse is still more sexist and doesn’t have an excuse I said what I said.

[ajokeformur-ray]

I watched Joker tonight and typed out my thoughts as they occurred to me. Unedited; typos are guaranteed. I did this a few months ago and really enjoyed looking back at my thought process and I wanted to do it again so that I can look back and know that what I feel is real and true in my darkest times.

You're welcome to skip this; it's under a cut for ease of doing so. Warnings for occasional sexual comment lmao. There’s no self shipping in this, I don’t think.

word count: 2, 575.

I’M SOBBING and I’ve only just pressed play.

Heart squeeze Chest much ow

THERE HE IS

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nooooo baby omg don’t pretend - let yourself hurt if it hurts. Don’t pretend. 

Carnival Carnival Carnivalllllllll 😍😍😍😍😍

I am a Simp for one clown and his name is Carnival

Someone help him, I????

That sign hit Arthur as hard as my love for him did ksksksk

MY EYES BE LEAKIN💔💔💔💔💔

bb nooooo

Oh honey let me kiss those bruises and replace the marks of violence with love, hm? You’re safe with me.

Breathe, my love. Don’t fight the laughter. Let it out, let yourself go. 

Screams into a pillow because????? much sad must kiss

“have you been keeping up with your journal?” LIKE HE HAS TIME

oHHHHH boi’s close to losing his shit

Do it, Artie. Give ‘em hell.

“I think I did” YOU TELL HER!!💖💖💖

I want to be his cigarette. Where’s Satan??? I got a new deal for my blackened soul which he took at half price😂😂😂😂

I’d have my hand between the door and his head so fuckin fast I swear

“I just don’t wanna feel so bad anymore” yep SAME

ohhhh peekaboo🥺🥺🥺

this makes me giggle ksksksk i watch this scene when i feel sad bc it always makes me happy for the time it’s on

he’s so good with kids; he doesn’t have to try and think about what’s funny, he just does it, he’s himself and it works

FUCK OFF LADY CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S STRUGGLING????

give

him

back

his

card

casually wrinkling my nose against tears lmao

ohhh the way he looks up at those stairs from the bottom

i can feel his exhaustion

me too, my love

step step step step

god i wanna get him the fuck outta gotham

and into my arms and a soft, warm blanket

“eat. you need to eat” LITERALLY WHAT I TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY IN HIS VOICE BC OTHERWISE I JUST WOULDNT EAT???? I’m losing so much weight asdfghjk its not enough tho

SUPAH RATS

Did Arthur come up w that joke or was it actually a Murray joke????

HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IM CRY??🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I WAS PUT HERE TO SPREAD JOY AND LAUGHTER”

YOU DO BABY, YOU DO!!!! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

go deepthroat a cactus randall - youre already a bit of a prick so🙃🙃🙃

“THE GUYS THINNK YOU’RE A FREAK BUT I LIKE YOU”

HOYT. YOU CAN GO SIT ON A CACTUS TOO

FUCK OFF

😡😡😡😡

“WHY WOULD ANYONE STEAL A SIGN”//”WHY DOES ANYONE DO ANYTIHNG?” HOYT YOU’RE SO FUCKING ILLOGICAL HERE IM????? ERIKA DOES NOT (ALSO WILL NOT LMAO IM A STUBBORN BIITCH) COMPUTE

Can arthur fuck me like he pounds the trash/????🥵🥵👀

those dark curls.... that crooked tooth... must kiss.🥺🥺🥺

pennys casual cruelty makes me so fucking angry

foreshadowingggggg ~  *JAZZ HANDS*

ugh the way he dances with that gun im👀🥵🥵🥵

he enjoys the power of it and his breathing gets deeper asdfghjk

clumsy baby omggggg i just COOED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

okay maybe im stupid but i genuinely dont understand this “senior who needs to graduate” skit i’m??? how is being an intro to western civ student funny im???? someone explain???

but also dont bc fuck that guy lmao arthur’s hilarious

true millenial humour (and brit humour lmao we’re dark asf)

THE WAY ARTIE TWIRLS HIS FINGERS AROUND HIS HAIR AND DANCES IN HIS SEAT IM???🥺🥺🥺

wanna curl up on his lap at night when hes writing and go to sleep with a 

blanket around our bodies🥺🥺🥺🥺

when arthur wears a shirt at home you KNOW it’s a daydream

THAT CROOKED TOOTH IM WANT KISS.

WAIT IS IT CALLED STAND UP COMEDY BC YOU STAND UP... AND ITS COMEDY???

23 FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE... TO REALISE THAT🙄

WHEN CARNIVAL CAME ON SCREEN I NTHE HOSPITAL I MADE A PORNOGRAPHIC NOISE LMAO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

IF YOURE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT, SHOOT MURRAY

WOOPS WRONG LYRICS

😂

“doctor of laughter”🥺🥺🥺🥺

doctor i have a case of the Big Sad can you... do an exam? 😉😏

NO BB DONT BEAT YOUR HEAD UP THERES PRECIOUS CARGO IN THERE

in what world does chucking cold greasy chips in a girls hair being “nice”???

lmao fuck these guys

ohhh honey breathe. dont fight it, my love, just breathe.

my heart’s breaking for you, you sweet thing🥺🥺🥺

i love you so so so so so so so much ugh you’re an actual fucking angel

just breathe darling

i need to get you a cup of tea with honey in it, your throat must be so sore

ohhhh baby im so sorry

i’d take every single punch if i could

i’d die for you

i wish i could protect you

i wish i could look after you

and take all those hits

and kill those guys for you

im so sorry

sobbingggg

YES GOOD MAN THANK YOUUU

KILL THOSE ASSHOLES LMAO DESERVED IT

yeah i have a grey morality... im similar to deadpool in that way tbh

carnival comin’ to kill your insecurities

8 bullets in a 6 chamber???? mm-hm

DONT FORGET YOUR BAG THATS EVIDENCE

AND THE WIG

RUN BABY RUNNNNNNN

GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOO

RUN LIKE THE WIND BULLSEYE

THE SOUND OF HIS FEET SLAPPING THE PAVEMENT IM👀

OOOOOH JOKER’S WAKIN’ UUUUUUP

fuck he’s so hypnotic

the way he runs his hand down his lower stomach asdfghj🥵

must kiss the inner tendons on his wrists and lick the blood off his face 

must kiss

he moves like water

fuck hes so fluid

bathroom scene = the scene in which my heart and vagina clench at the same time

im WANT

T POSEEEEEEEE

“i still owe you for that, dont i?”

PUNCH OUT IS MY FAVOURITE THING E  V  E  R

D O N T S M I LE

UGH I FUCKING HATE being told to smile if i don’t fucking want to so BIG mood

PLEASE SHUSH ME THE WAY YOU JUST SHUSHED PENNY IM???

but also dont lmao bc i’ll think you’re mad at me and i’ll hide in the bedroom for the rest of the day lmao i’m sensitive✨✨✨

i wanna sit on his lap and still his bouncing knees

“thats not funny”

fuck off penny yes it is

I JUST CHOKED ON MY COFFEE IM???

“but i do” god the  P O W E R

ugh that fucking sexist piece of shit comedian can choke “women look at sex like buying a car” 🤢🤮🤢🤢🤮

chauvinistic pigs can die thanks

his lil trip upstage im cry🥺🥺🥺

ohhh baby. just breathe, darling. it’s okay to be scared. dont fight it. just breathe. 

he and i both cover our mouths when we laugh/smile in the exact same way and it makes me feel closer to him

how can they think hes laughing at himself when hes literally gagging????

people only see what they wanna

the Penny imitation is👌👌👌

s m i l e

i remember when i came home from seeing this for the first time, i got home and dropped to my knees to cry in the bathroom. it was such an emotional release and so much love and i played smile to try to make myself smile but i only made myself cry harder lmaooooo ~ 

smile and thats life are my go-to songs if i gotta cheer tf up

danger sign = neither works

he looks so soft after his “date”🥺🥺🥺

“thats life” yeah but murray you dont even leave the studio so how do you know????

ngl arthur’s anger scares me.

anyone so much as raise their voice at me and i’ll cry really bad and i will shut myself away for the rest of the day and quiet anger terrifies me so his banging abt in the kitchen would freak me tf out😲

angry bb😭

he controls his anger so fast though omgggg ~ 

that soft please sends me

idk where it sends me lmao

down below probably

BARE FACED CARNIVAL OMG THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE

I LOVE THE MATCHING COLOURS ON ARTHUR AND BRUCE TOO ???

okay but the implication that arthur always carries a clown nose on him is🥺🥺🥺

hes such a good clown im?????

lmao im enjoying the show more than bruce is skskskk

arthur’s lil chuckle makes me🥺

his HUMMING im??? soft?????

his brows are so strong and dark omggg ~ he’s so beautiful

OKAY i’ll be honest i’ve seen this alfred/bruce scene and the thomas bathroom scene later on and the penny flashback scene a 100 times and i still dont fucking understand what did or didnt happen regarding arthur’s parentage im????

 ive seen interpretations to say he is thomas’ son and some to say he isnt and i still cant decide so? im stupid i guess 🙃

“a clown thing?” the  s a s s

“it’s exit only” yeah so’s my ass🙃

if i was there in the hospital room i woulda turned that tv off as soon as i realised what clip was gonna play

murray’s cruelty is d i s g u s t i n g

lmao hes an asshole

arthurs lil clap from joyyyyy ~ 🥺🥺🥺

did i say murray???

i meant  m u r r a t

🙃🙃🙃

sneaky baby

wayne hall either has super bad security or arthurs v quick on his feet

🤔🤔🤔🤔

he looks so good in red omggg ~ 

f o r e s h a d o w i n g

arthurs smile when hes watching chaplin is how he smiles when we all gush to each other abt him and ourselves!!!

hes so cuuuuuute🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

“told me what” 

ohhhh honey🥺🥺 im so sorry. “crazy” is a trigger word for arthur; it made him start laughing in the bathroom with thomas

“touch my son again ill fucking kill you” yeah?? touch my arthur again and i’ll fucking kill you🙃🙃🙃🙃

^^^ that ones a joke do not come at me

the clerk in arkham was nice to arthur - he, gary and sophie are the good gothamites.

none of it was enough to stop his descent into joker, though, and i’d even say it was too late right at the beginning of the film, too... 

his sock puppet thingy “they cut all those” is such a Joker thing to doooo ~ 

the way arthur’s laughing in the hall at arkham turns into sobbing is gut-wrenching omg the poor thing😭

i wanna hug him and protect him and help him to process this in a healthy way

sweetheart, if i could take all of your pain and put it onto me... i so would. i’d do it in a heartbeat.

i wanna get you into a hot shower, make you some food and sit and listen to you. we can either sit in silence or you can talk to me, my love, and you will be heard and understood and loved.

“i had a bad day”

IT’S OKAY I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY OMG YOU POOR SWEET INNOCENT THING IM LOVE YOU🥺💔

THAT ENTIRE LATE NIGHT SCENE LAUGH/SOBBING GOT ME -

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i just wanna hold you and protect you and help you and love you

I’m so fucking sorry, darling. i wish i could take it all away from you

“i havent been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”

NO ONE SHOULD LOOK THAT ANGELIC AFTER COMMITING MATRICIDE IM????

get

that

fucking

gun

away

from

your

face

boi dont test me ill fucking go feral or - no, tell you what, i’ll point the gun at me and see how you like it

im looking respectfully at the green speckled undies scene....👀👀👀

“coming” 😏😏😏

“my mum died im celebrating” and “i stopped taking my medication” and you STILL stayed in the apartment with Arthur????? dudes those are 🚨🚨🚨 signs

woe betide anyone who underestimates arthur fleck lmaoooo

randalls death scene makes me laugh every time omg i feel so vindictive

get WRECKED

i wanna lick the blood off his face. i really want to

ngl i think i have a blood kink... 

“dont look just go” ME WITH MY ACNE WHEN I SEE IT IN THE MIRROR 😂😂😂😂

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER 

ASDFGHJKL

J

O

K

E

R

ERIKA.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERRRRRR

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 MY BABY MY MAN OMG THERE HE IS IM CRY???????😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺

my mind is literally blank rn im just staring and crying and smiling so hard my face hurts????? im love him so so so so much

sweet thing’s so used to pain he gets HIT BY A CAR AND KEEPS GOING????

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

hghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

euirrrrrrgkjbgkfbirsghigrbugr

*incoherent keyboardsmash to portray utter love*

ohhh baby no dont cry. oh honey😭 i wanna sit on your lap and kiss your tears away

“i love dr sally”

you have a WIFE at home

“DO YOU REMEMBER?” THAT WAS YOUR CUE TO APOLOGISE LMAO GET FUCKED MURRAT

he’s so CUTE

omgggg ~ 

my hearts gonna give out its SQUEEZING SO HARD IT HURTS

YOU MOCK THEM, BABY!!! THEY GOT IT COMING

“i wanna get it right” hes so passionate

my comments have deceased in number bc im just too starstruck and in love to even think clearly lmao

jokers all i know rn and this is the most peaceful ive felt in WEEKS

im sobbing

ugh fuck this hurts so BAD

youre speaking the truth, darling. im so so proud of you and i love you so much

“THEY COULDNT CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE THEIR LIVES” LMAO INSIDE JOKESSS

literally sobbing right now ugh what the fuck youre in so much pain and in the middle of a breakdown and no one saw you

ugh baby im so sorry, you deserve so much better

you tried so hard and you were gonna fall no matter what

IN THE WHITE ROOM

“hi” baby they cant hear you but im COOING 🥺🥺🥺🥺

you’re so fucking cute

say the word and ill burn gotham to the fucking ground for you

i wanna sit atop that car and cradle your head in my lap and wipe the blood off your face and help you stand up and be there for you and and and😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love you so so so much. 

i’d be so much worse off without you in my life. you brought a splash of colour which has never dimmed or faded. it never will. 

b l o o d    s m i l e

=

im wearing my inside on the outside now and it still hurts

angel💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i see you and your pain. i love you.

i see you, angel. 

his genuine laughter is🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

that cute lil “ksksks” he does im🥺🥺🥺

i always laugh with him omg the two of us are laughing together ugh its the closest i will ever get to sharing in his joy

 t h a t ‘s    l i f e

i love the hallway daaaaaaaaaaaaaance ~ 

them hips dont lie😉😉😉

i love you i love you i love you i love you omg the sun’s like a halo ugh i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you im singing along to thats life while i type out how much i love you at 220am lmaooooo ~ 

i   l o v e    y o u

[anubislover]

Not So Easily Replaced

(Ikkaku is pissed at how idiotic her crew has been while on Amazon Lily, so she does what she's always done - vents about it to Law to let off some steam. Unfortunately, when an argument breaks out between them, she's left to wonder if she's really appreciated by her nakama)

“Ugh!” Ikkaku growled, stomping into Law’s office with his second afternoon coffee and a selection of onigiri on a tray. Normally lunch delivery wasn’t her job, but since all the men had been “too busy” fawning over the women of Amazon Lily outside, the menial task had fallen to her; otherwise their workaholic captain wouldn’t eat. “I swear, Boss, if we don’t set sail soon, I’m going to strangle every guy on board!”

“Hmmm,” Law grunted absently as he poured over his notes. Ikkaku didn’t hold his monosyllabic response against him—he’d spent the past few days fixing up that Straw Hat kid and the Fishman. On top of that, the extensive treatments had basically depleted their medical supplies, Straw Hat’s freak-out upon waking up had wrecked more than half the operatory, and the Kuja had been pretty stingy with letting them replenish their food and water from the island, so she was sure he had plenty on his mind. The dark bags under his eyes attested to that.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to vent, though. Honestly, if she didn’t, she’d probably snap and end up going on a killing spree or something. Only Bepo and Law would be spared; the Mink had no interest in human women and thus hadn’t been an obnoxious Neanderthal, and Law had been too focused on keeping his patients and crew alive to drool over Boa Hancock.

Hell, when her captain was like this, Ikkaku could literally say anything and he wouldn’t even register it. It took a lot to snap Law out of his thoughts, and he’d never really seemed to mind when she ranted at him to let off steam. Mainly because once she was done, she was usually calm enough to take care of the situation herself, leaving Law in peace and with a non-murdered crew. A happy engineer made for a happy submarine, after all.

Setting the coffee and onigiri down onto the desk, Ikkaku continued, “They act like they’ve never seen a hot chick in their lives. I mean, what am I, chopped liver? They should be thanking the gods that they get to look at my gorgeous face every damn day!” The statement was accompanied by a dramatic toss of her curly hair. When Ikkaku felt strongly about something, she tended to gesticulate a lot, and this was no exception.

“Uh huh.”

She leaned against the edge of Law’s desk, hands waving about as she ranted. “Not that I want them to start lusting after me, but it hurts a girl’s pride, ya know? They could at least acknowledge what a hot piece of ass I am instead of acting like I’m some ugly hag.” She clenched her fist as she recalled how, just that morning, Shachi and Clione had basically given a lecture to the whole crew over breakfast about the superior physique the Kuja displayed compared to the average woman. There had been charts and everything, and to her dismay the silhouette for the “average” woman looked suspiciously like her.

“And that’s not the end of it!” she rambled on, smacking her hand against the desk for emphasis. “When I’m not ignored or insulted, they try to convince me to go out into the jungle to talk to the Kuja for them! I mean, I’m probably the one least likely to be killed outright, but it’s not guaranteed! They might fill me with arrows just for being affiliated with men! Are they really willing to risk my life like that?”

Her question didn’t get an answer—not because Law wasn’t paying attention, but because at that moment, her emotive gesticulating accidentally smacked her wrist into his coffee mug, knocking it over.

“Mother fucker!” Law shouted, scalding coffee spilling all over his crotch and papers.

“Oh my god, Law, I’m so sorry—”

“Will you shut up?!” he snapped, grabbing his nearby lab coat to frantically soak up the scalding coffee that had spilled across his crotch. “Don’t just stand there—get some towels!”

Nodding mutely, she ran to the en-suite bathroom and snatched up every towel she could find in the cupboard. “Here,” she said, trying to hand them to him so he could clean himself up.

“My desk, damn it! Save my notes!”

Immediately she swept the pile furthest from the spill to the floor and began patting down the desk, but she knew it was already too late; the coffee had completely soaked through several of the papers that had been strewn across the stainless steel surface.

“Law, really, I’m so sorry!” she apologized hoarsely, flinching as he turned the full force of his sleep-deprived glare upon her.

“Maybe if you’d fucking been watching what you were doing instead of ranting on and on, none of this would have happened!” he shouted, well and truly pissed. Not that she blamed him—a week’s worth of important medical and inventory notes was now a brown, sopping mess. On top of that, first-degree crotch burns would sour anyone’s mood, especially when they were only running on an average of three hours of sleep.

“It’ll be ok,” she assured, assessing the damage. To an average person, the mess was a disaster, but while the charts and notes that had been in the immediate spill zone were soaked through and ruined, many of the others could be salvaged thanks to Law’s powers. “Just Room the coffee out of the papers—”

“Do you have any idea how much time and effort you just flushed down the toilet?” he snapped, even as the familiar blue bubble filled the office. Drops of coffee were pulled from the sheets of paper like magic, but to Ikkaku’s dismay, much of the ink left behind was still smudged beyond recognition. “You’re lucky that wasn’t Mugiwara-ya’s medical file you just destroyed!”

“Law, really, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm him down. Her usually chill captain was far more volatile when stressed and sleep-deprived. “It was a stupid accident on my part. I’ll help you rewrite all of this.”

“Hell no,” he growled, gold eyes narrowing furiously, the tendons in his thin neck tightening as he ground his teeth together. “The last thing I need is you going on another stupid rant and ruining my notes again. Get the fuck out—I’ve got more important things to do than listen to you bitch and moan about how the guys aren’t paying attention to you.”

“Tha—that’s not what I’m angry about at all!” she snapped.

“Then what is your fucking problem?!”

“My problem is that the guys were being jackasses and I’m not appreciated around here!”

“Well if you don’t like it, leave!”

Ikkaku’s back stiffened, each syllable cutting into her heart like Law’s sharpest scalpel. Those words…it was the exact same thing her old boss would say whenever she complained about her asshole coworkers’ creepy leers or “accidental” groping. The greasy old mechanic was a sexist pig, but still the only one in that shit port that had been willing to take her on as an apprentice. It had always been an unspoken threat—if she left, no one else would hire her, so she could kiss her dreams of becoming a world-class engineer good-bye.

Trafalgar Law had changed that with his offer to join the Heart Pirates.

And now he was telling her to leave, too. To give up her dream, her nakama, and her home because she wasn’t willing to put up with a little sexism.

As if he could replace her in a heartbeat.

The thought hurt more than expected. She’d worked her ass off aboard the Polar Tang. For five years she’d toiled in the heart of the engine room, maintaining every little piece. She kept the gears turning, the motors humming, and the propellers running. Just from sound and the slightest vibrations through the ship, she knew exactly what was wrong with the engine at any given time.

Ikkaku had never asked for praise or recognition for her hard work—it was just her job. But she was as knowledgeable about the mechanisms of the submarine as Law was of the human body. She had always assumed he’d quietly acknowledged this fact and respected her for it.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

She nearly screamed all this at him, but before she could open her mouth, the blue light of Law’s Room encased her, and in a blink, she was out in the hall, the cabin door slamming shut in her face.

Knowing better than to try and force her way back into his quarters, Ikkaku instead stormed down the steel hallway, fists clenched and muttering furiously to herself. Maybe she would leave. March right up to Boa Hancock and ask to join the Kuja. That would show them! She didn’t need Law, or the Tang, or men at all! She’d get along just fine without those jerks! Sure, Amazon Lily didn’t have any of the high-tech machinery she was used to, and working for a shichibukai wasn’t exactly something she was thrilled about, but at least they’d appreciate her, right? She had other skills—she was a hell of a tattoo artist, and was a damn fine shot, and could kickbox, and…

Her pace slowed as her heart forced her brain to accept the truth—she didn’t want to leave. She’d go crazy without machines and engines to work on. And sure, she was no slouch in a fight, but the Kuja were warrior women trained from birth. Ikkaku would look like a total weakling next to them.

And no matter how much the crew pissed her off, she wouldn’t trade her nakama for anything. Sure, they could be thoughtless jerks sometimes, but they could also be really sweet. Bepo may not have been much for girl talk, but he was always willing to lend an ear if she needed companionship. Her fellow engineers, Malamute and Skua, were dependable and shared her love of machines. Shachi was always down to help her pull a prank, and when he wasn’t drooling over the Kuja, Penguin could be counted on to talk her through her problems.

As for Law…by this point, he was more like her big brother than her actual brothers had been. They shared a similar devious sense of humor, was discreet about any feminine issues she might have that, as the ship’s doctor, he was forced to deal with, and he’d even played wingman for her a few times at the taverns they’d stopped in.

Had she just ruined all of that? Was Law just angry, or had this been coming for a long time? Law had threatened to fire her plenty of times in the past, usually in response to her back sassing him, but he’d never been serious about it. This time had been different—he’d been legitimately pissed at her. Maybe those teasing threats hadn’t been jokes, but subtle warnings, and her ruining all those papers had simply been the straw to break the camel’s back?

Ikkaku was deep in thought, mentally going over every encounter she’d had with Law with a fine-toothed comb, searching for any clue whether he seriously thought she should leave, when she quite literally bumped into Bepo.

The Mink took in her flushed, angry expression and asked, “Are you ok, Ikkaku?”

Oddly enough, it was that simple, gentle question that shattered her composure like a bullet through a bone, and without even thinking she buried her face in his soft fur and just broke down crying. “He told me to leave, Bepo,” she sobbed, scared and hurt and frustrated. For all the grief her crewmates had given her and all the dangerous positions being a pirate had put her in, Ikkaku loved being a Heart. Where would she go? She’d never find another ship like the Polar Tang. Another crew like the Heart Pirates. Another captain like Trafalgar Law.

Bepo, though shocked that the normally fiery and confident engineer was using his fur as a tissue, didn’t say anything—he just carefully rubbed her back and hoped that letting her treat him like a massive teddy bear would calm her down enough to explain what had happened.

XXX

“Ok, real talk—has anyone noticed anything…different about Ikkaku lately?” Penguin asked as he sat down to lunch.

“You’d have to actually see her to notice something,” Shachi replied, brow furrowing. He glanced over at Uni, raising an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “You been giving her stealth lessons or something?”

Uni frowned behind his bandana. “No, but she’s definitely avoiding us. It’s been a week since we left Amazon Lily, and I can count the number of times I’ve seen her on one hand.”

“Same,” Ermine said as they finished molding Law’s onigiri into the perfect triangles the captain liked. “I actually thought we left her behind for a minute—nearly asked Jean Bart to turn the ship around to get her.”

Malamute rubbed his chin, mouth twisting in concern. “Nah, she’s here, but she’s mad at us about something—barely leaves the engine room most days, and she basically refuses to talk to me and Skua.”

His fellow engineer nodded. “We thought it might just be her time of the month, but that ended over a week ago according to the calendar.”

“You guys keep track of her menstrual cycles?” Clione asked, weirded out. The rest of the crew wore similar expressions of disbelief and disapproval.

“Out of self-preservation!” Skua shouted defensively. “We’re in a hot, confined space where she has easy access to heavy tools—of course we wanna know when we should have emergency placating chocolate on-hand!”

“We tried the chocolate anyway, though,” Malamute added. “She just…waved it away and kept working.”

The cook’s frown deepened at that bit of information. “Ikkaku never turns down chocolate,” Ermine said, “and she hasn’t shown up to lunch, dinner, or breakfast all week.”

“She’s been eating, though, right?” Penguin asked, concerned. He didn’t care how mad she was; it was no excuse to skip out on meals. It was bad enough Law was an insomniac that got most of his nutrients through coffee and onigiri. It would be a cold day in hell before he would stand for an anorexic engineer.

A large, white paw shyly raised in the air as Bepo interjected, “I’ve been bringing her meals so she doesn’t have to come by the galley. She’s…wanted some time to herself.” He dropped his head gloomily. “Sorry.”

“But she’s talked to you?”

“Ummm, a little bit,” he muttered, twiddling his claws. After she’d stopped crying, Ikkaku had spilled her guts about everything—her issues with the crew, her argument with Law, and why his words had affected her so badly. Though sympathetic, Bepo was certain Law hadn’t meant his thoughtless words—underneath his casual persona, he cared deeply about his crew and would never let any of them go for such a silly reason.

At first, Bepo’d tried to get her to go back and talk to the captain, but she’d shot that down quickly—with the mood Law had been in, it would do nothing but start another argument. The Mink had hoped that, now that they were sailing away from Amazon Lily and Law wouldn’t have to worry about Straw Hat’s injuries anymore, they’d both cool down and the whole thing would blow over.

Unfortunately, the past week had proven otherwise. Ikkaku had taken to hiding deep in the bowels of the ship, and Law had been so focused on redoing all those notes and charts that he hadn’t left his quarters in days. Bepo wasn’t a Mink who liked confrontation, and he certainly didn’t want to choose sides between his oldest friend and his favorite engineer, so he’d relegated himself to supplying food to both parties, hoping one of them would finally get tired of the oppressive silence and breach the topic.

As the crew frantically gathered around him, hoping to finally have an answer to the Mystery of the Missing Engineer, Bepo began to wonder if he should have just locked both humans in an empty room and made them talk it out.

Not that such a plan would have been very effective with Law’s powers, but it was better than nothing.

“Talk, Bepo,” Shachi growled, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and shining it directly into the bear’s black eyes like he was in an interrogation room. “What’s up with Ikkaku?”

“Why’s she hiding from us?” Clione interjected.

“Why are you the only one she’s talking to?” added Jude.

“Is she pregnant and going through weird mood swings or something?” Skua asked loudly.

Bepo blanched at that last one. “No, she…she’s just kind of upset about…how you all acted on Amazon Lily.”

Exasperated, Ermine rolled their eyes. “What, was she jealous about all the attention we gave Hancock’s crew?”

“No, but…you guys were really insensitive. Like, that presentation—”

“It was a joke!” Shachi defended, though a guilty blush rose to his cheeks.

“And asking her to venture into the jungle to talk to the women for you—”

“Hey, she was the only one who they wouldn’t kill on-sight!” Jude sulked.

“And then she had to bring Law his lunch because you were all too busy staring at the Kuja.”

“Wow. Having to do that one menial task must have been such an inconvenience,” Malamute scoffed.

At the back of the grumbling crowd, Jean Bart awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t been on the crew long, so he didn’t really think it was his place to get involved, but he had the feeling Ikkaku had taken whatever had been said and done a little more personally than they thought. “Look, regardless of how we feel, we should all apologize to her. I mean, I don’t know her great, but does she usually give the silent treatment for this long?”

“Well, no,” Clione stated, looking a bit nervous. “Typically, she yells at us and smacks us around a bit, or maybe pulls some embarrassing prank, but she’s never quiet.”

“So, what’s this mean?”

“It means this is serious.” Penguin frowned at Bepo, who was looking around anxiously as if hoping to escape. “Ok, spill. You’re the only one she’s talked to, and you clearly have a better idea of what’s going on than we do. What’s Ikkaku really upset about?”

The Mink hung his head sorrowfully. “Sorry.”

“Damn it, don’t apologize! Just tell us!”

“It’s just…”

“Are you guys bullying Bepo again?” came a voice from the doorway. The crew turned to find Law strolling into the galley, looking thinner and more exhausted than usual, but he was at least out of his room and among the living.

Still shining his flashlight in Bepo’s face, Shachi yelled, “Captain! You gotta help us—Ikkaku’s basically been AWOL all week and won’t talk to anyone, and Bepo won’t tell us why!”

Law plopped into his chair and grabbed an onigiri, scoffing as he took a large bite. “She bitched at me for a while about how you all were being sexist pigs. Figured she would have gotten over it by now.”

“She complained to you about it?” Jean Bart asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah, and then she managed to spill hot coffee on my crotch and ruin the inventory list for the infirmary that I’d spent hours compiling.”

The crew unanimously gave a sympathy wince.

Taking another large bite of his lunch, Law continued, “We’ll be making port in a few days—she’ll come to her senses once she’s spent some time off the ship.”

“You…you want her to leave the ship?” Bepo asked, voice raising an octave in disbelief.

“Time apart will do us some good,” he replied with a shrug, activating his Room for a moment to remove the flashlight from Shachi’s hand.

“How…how much time?”

“Well, we’re not making port any longer than necessary. If she hasn’t gotten her shit together by then, that’s her problem.”

Bepo’s heart dropped into his stomach. What did Law mean “get her shit together”? Was he talking about packing her things? Was he really kicking her out over a silly argument over spilled coffee and ruined paperwork?

“Law!” the Mink shouted, jerking to his feet so quickly his knees knocked the table. “Please reconsider!”

Dark blue eyebrows rose at the normally soft-spoken navigator’s outburst. “There’s nothing to reconsider. Ikkaku’s a big girl—I agree that the sexism she faced was unacceptable, but she’s never had a problem handling that kind of shit herself.” His face twisted into a scowl. “And considering how I only just finished redoing all the work she destroyed, my tolerance for temper tantrums is at an all-time low.”

“She offered to help you rewrite it!” Bepo argued, slapping his paws down on the table. “Is some soggy paperwork worth losing your best engineer over?” Pausing, he glanced at Malamute and Skua. “Uh, no offense. Sorry.”

“None taken,” the duo said in unison, though their jaws dropped a second later as they registered the Mink’s words. “Wait, what?!”

“What do you mean ‘losing’ Ikkaku?” Penguin snapped, grabbing him by the orange collar of his boiler suit.

Shachi grabbed the flashlight again and climbed onto the table to shine it into Bepo’s face. “Talk, bear! Is Ikkaku quitting or something?”

“Because we won’t let her!” several of the crew shouted.

“Everybody calm down!” Law snapped, his deep voice silencing the rambunctious crew. “You all acted like idiots around the Kuja—I don’t blame her for being annoyed at you. But if your petty acts of sexism could drive her off that easily, she wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes at her old job. You’re blowing everything out of proportion.”

“You’re the one who told her to leave over a spilled cup of coffee!” Bepo angrily stated, only to immediately shrink back when he realized just who he’d yelled at. “Sorry.”

“Whoa, wait, Law, did you fire her?” Penguin asked, genuinely horrified as he numbly released Bepo’s collar. Of all the things that could have been bothering Ikkaku, that hadn’t even made his list. Sure, she could be tempestuous, but that had never bothered Law before—on the contrary, Penguin had always assumed his old friend liked trading snarky barbs with.

“I didn’t—why would I—I was just pissed because she spilled hot coffee all over crotch!” Law defended, even as he inwardly cringed at the way his entire crew had turned to glare at him judgmentally. Shachi had even turned the flashlight’s intense beam on him.

“But was that worth actually firing her over?”

“I didn’t fire her! Yeah, we argued, but I never said she was fired. At most, I told her to get the fuck out of my office.”

“That’s not all you said,” Bepo mumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Flinty gold eyes narrowed at the sulking Mink. It was extremely out of character for Bepo to snap at or sass anyone—least of all Law. His brow furrowed as he thought back to his fight with Ikkaku—the memory was a bit hazy due to the lack of sleep he’d gotten. “Then what exactly did I say to her? What could have possibly been so bad that it could make her think I’m firing her?”

“You said…she told me…” Bepo took a deep breath. He hated scolding his captain, but he hated the idea of Ikkaku leaving even more, especially if this really was just a big misunderstanding. “You said to her ‘if you don’t like it, leave’.”

A sour taste worse than umeboshi filled his mouth as Law realized the full implications of what he’d said and done. He clearly remembered her old boss, a scowling, greasy man who’d shouted at her when she’d argued that she deserved to be respected as the talented engineer she was and not just seen as eye-candy.

If you don’t like it, leave, he’d sneered through crooked teeth as the other mechanics sniggered. Good luck finding anyone else willing to hire an inexperienced chick, though. Law could distinctly remember the hot surge of outrage he’d felt on the woman’s behalf; in less than ten minutes, she’d managed to identify what was wrong with the Tang’s engine and exactly how to fix it. Yet because she was the sole female in the shop—because she was a little bit different—she was overlooked and scorned, with her boss refusing to check for himself.

It had reminded Law a little too much of how quickly he’d been rejected from every hospital Cora-san had taken him to, the so-called “expert” doctors refusing to believe that Amber Lead was not contagious, or even examine the white patches across his skin.

And maybe—just maybe—the way her curly hair fanned out around her shoulders and down her back reminded him just a tiny bit of a certain black, feathered jacket.

Law hadn’t even bothered to consider whether or not the woman might want to become a pirate before he’d activated his Room and cut her boss to pieces. He’d then turned to Ikkaku, whose dark eyes had been wide with shock but not fear, and told her that if she could fix his engine as easily as she claimed, she was welcome to join his crew.

Now he stood to lose her due to his own sleep-deprived stupidity.

“…fuck.”

XXX

Down in the engine room, Ikkaku lay on her back underneath the ship’s engine, tightening the bolts that secured the freshly-cleaned cooling pipes. Since her argument with Law she’d basically spent every waking hour disassembling, repairing, and reassembling every piece she could. She trusted Skua and Malamute to take good care of the sub after she was gone, but the Polar Tang deserved nothing less than a thorough inspection and tune-up as thanks for carrying her so far.

She’d give the crew their own goodbye once they reached port. She hoped they were still too blinded by the hearts in their eyes to notice she’d been avoiding them. It wasn’t out of anger anymore; instead, she was scared she’d start blubbering. Admitting that Law had decided to toss her out on her ass was humiliating and heartbreaking, and she honestly wasn’t sure how the others would react. They could just as easily stage a mutiny as shrug it off as her overreacting.

Perhaps she was freaking out over nothing—Law hadn’t even left his room since their fight. Surely if he really wanted her gone, he could have marooned her back on Amazon Lily. Then again, he was a sadistic bastard; luring her into a false sense of security, then dumping her and her belongings onto the next port they landed on wouldn’t be entirely out of character. Or maybe her years of service had earned her enough mercy that he was willing to wait until they were at an island where Ikkaku could potentially find work instead of stranding her in the Calm Belt.

Whatever it was, she had every intention of confronting him about it after dinner. If this was all just a big misunderstanding, she planned to give him a good smack upside the head. If she was really fired, she wanted at least enough time to pack her things and say her proper goodbyes.

Until then, all she could do was stay busy to pass the time and hope that the knot of anxiety that twisted in her stomach would loosen up by the time she talked to him.

She didn’t want to leave, but if Law decided she was really that expendable, there wasn’t much she could do but try to hold onto at least a shred of dignity.

Reaching over to her tool kit, Ikkaku fished out her screwdriver, silently lamenting over the sad state of her tools. She’d planned on picking up some new ones back on Sabaody, but with all the chaos that had taken place, she’d missed her chance, and she wasn’t sure she could justify the cost now that her job was in jeopardy.

The sharp click clack of heeled boots against the metal floor startled her out of her thoughts. Glancing towards the sound, she immediately knew from the spotted jeans that filled her vision that, for better or for worse, the mystery of her termination was about to be solved.

She watched as Law turned around, and she knew from the barely-audible creek of the pipes that he had chosen to lean against them. Ikkaku had yelled at him for doing that more than a few times in the past, but this time she kept her mouth shut. Most likely he’d done it to provoke such a reaction out of her, but why? To break the viscous tension that filled the room by establishing a sense of normalcy, or so he’d have another cause to fire her?

Whatever his reason, Ikkaku refused to be the first to speak. Whether he wanted to kick her out or extend the olive branch, he’d have to make the first move.

After a few minutes of silence where Law merely stood there and Ikkaku continued to tighten the bolts, he finally sighed. “Penguin tells me that you haven’t been eating dinner with the crew,” Law’s low, nonchalant voice rumbled through the pipes.

If Penguin had to tell you, that says that you haven’t been eating with them, either, she thought sourly, though opted to stay quiet. She didn’t want to turn this into an argument if he intended to apologize. And if he planned to fire her…well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of riling her up.

Noting her unusual silence, he continued, “I understand their behavior has been…upsetting as of late. They were acting like idiots, but that’s no reason to isolate yourself.”

“Haven’t been isolating myself,” she lied, fiddling with a bolt she’d tightened ten minutes ago. “I’ve just had work to do. The Tang needed some maintenance, so I thought I’d get it done now that we weren’t being chased by Marines.”

“Sure. And the fact that Bepo’s been bringing you your meals this past week?”

“Going to the galley would have wasted time. Eating in here was more efficient, and Bepo offered.”

“Why didn’t you ask Skua and Malamute to help?”

“You doubtin’ my abilities as an engineer, Trafalgar?” she asked in a clipped tone, growing sick of tiptoeing around the point. “Whether you like it or not, I know how this ship works better than anyone. If you don’t trust me, tell them to get their asses in here and do it instead!”

There was a deep sigh from above her, and Ikkaku could easily picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows that formed when he was tired and frustrated. “Bepo told me you’re thinking of leaving.”

Ah. The moment of truth. Heart in her throat, she forced her herself to take a deep breath, ready for whatever judgement he saw fit to pass. “You’re the one who said I should if I didn’t like how I was being treated.”

“Are you?”

“Leaving or enjoying how I’m treated?”

“Leaving.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Good.” It was subtle, but there was an unspoken “I wouldn’t have let you if you’d tried” in his tone. There was another long moment of silence before he continued, “Engineers as skilled as you are hard to come by—finding a replacement would have been a bitch. Plus, the crew would have been upset; they were practically interrogating poor Bepo about why you were avoiding them.”

“And of course you stepped in and played hero, rescuing the helpless Mink from an angry mob?” she snipped, tightening another screw. It didn’t sound like she was getting fired, so it was a little easier to let her natural sass creep back into her voice.

Law let out a faint tch above her. “I wouldn’t say ‘helpless’ considering how he then yelled at me about allegedly firing you. After that, the mob was on his side.”

A proud grin curled the corner of Ikkaku’s mouth. Who would have thought that Bepo would yell at his best friend for little old her? She’d have to come up with a nice thank you gift for her favorite shipmate. With luck, Law might actually apologize for his behavior if even Bepo was calling him out.

Of course, that might take a while, so it was best to keep busy. Reaching out her hand, Ikkaku felt around blindly for her socket wrench. She jerked slightly in surprise when she felt long fingers wrap around her hand before the tool in question was placed firmly in her palm. She pulled her arm back, only to stare wordlessly at the brand-new wrench that practically gleamed in the light.

Clumsily she slid out from under the pipes, jaw dropping as she found Law crouching beside a new, expensive, top-of-the-line tool kit. “I was saving this for your birthday but given the chance that you wouldn’t be around to receive it…” he trailed off, adjusting his hat so the brim cast a shadow over his face.

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, immediately recognizing the gift for the chrome apology that it was. Plus, it was hard to stay mad at Law when he was like this—honestly, it was so dang cute how awkward he was when forced to display actual human emotions like caring and guilt. “You bribing me to stay, Boss?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. “Then I accept, along with a twenty-percent bonus on my next paycheck.”

He grumbled slightly but didn’t refuse, nor did he pull away from her embrace, even if he stubbornly refused to return it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t technically said “sorry”. Actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than words with him, anyway, and Law was practically groveling for her to stay.

When she finally let him go, Law stood up and cleared his throat before nonchalantly strolling towards the door. “Well then, since you’re not leaving, unless the engine room is actively on fire and no one but you can put it out, you’re eating with the crew tonight. They’ll formally apologize for their behavior, and they’re all going out of their way to show you how much you’re appreciated. Ermine’s preparing your favorite meal. Clione and Shachi have put together a presentation detailing exactly how stupid they’ve been while Penguin has one extolling your virtues. Malamute and Skua have volunteered to take on your cleaning duties for the next two weeks.”

“What are you going to do?” Ikkaku teased, though he could have said “nothing” and she’d be fine—she knew he’d never make the mistake of discarding her again.

Law stopped at the door and threw his trademark cocky smirk over his shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ll be standing by your side all night to make sure you can’t run off when you realize just how obnoxiously sentimental those idiots can be.”

Ikkaku’s grin fell a bit as she realized he was right—the Hearts were an infamous band of pirates led by a fiendishly dangerous captain, but when it came to their nakama, they could get downright sappy in extreme circumstances. Jude was probably preparing some hippy-dippy song. Cousteau would inevitably name some weird sea creature after her. Seiuchi would probably find a way to scatter confetti all over the galley and she’d be picking it out of her hair for days…

Getting up, she chased after her devious captain. “I don’t suppose there’s still time for me to quit and join the Kuja, is there?”

Gold eyes glinted sadistically at her as Law replied, “Nope. Welcome to Appreciation Hell. Population: you. Don’t try to run, either—I’ll Shambles your ass into the galley if I have to.”

Ikkaku punched his arm in retaliation, though she was careful not to hit him too hard—if she annoyed him too much, he’d go out of his way to rile the guys up even more. God, he’d probably propose they all get tattoos of her face or something just to make her suffer.

“You’re an absolute bastard,” she said, affection creeping into her voice despite her best efforts.

“Yes, but a bastard that appreciates his engineer,” Law replied, and out of the corner of her eye, Ikkaku could have sworn she saw the barest hint of a genuine smile flicker across his face.

Despite the knowledge that she’d be stuck with a crew of idiots and a captain who had the emotional range of a teaspoon and a truly frightening sense of humor, Ikkaku felt happier than she had in weeks as she playfully knocked her shoulder into his. “I guess that’s not so bad, then.”

The End

[uh-mozzaza]

Kars Bruno and Gyro for the ask game \(^°^)/

Alright, lots of faves >:) I’ll try to put these under a read more

LORD KARS

favorite thing about them

Supposedly he’s a villain??? But he falls more on the amorality scale rather than the evil scale. He doesn’t exactly... look like a mad scientist (not your stereotypical nerd, let’s put it this way), but his goal is the same and story are the same. Daring to go beyond what nature imposed on his body, reaching higher and higher in the real of possibilities, desiring to experience more than what he is allowed, dedicating his whole existence to that objective, hubris and obsession. That’s very sexy of him, and he does all that while looking like that

least favorite thing about them

He needs some respecting women juice :/ I get that he didn’t give a shit about a honorable combat, but he could have avoided the hair guitar. And have you seen the PILLAR WOMEN???? Some crimes are hard to forgive

favorite line

when he drops off the cliff, avoids to smash the flowers and starts to maniacally laugh

brOTP

Pillarfam gives me family feels ✊😔❤️

OTP

Haha what if we committed the genocide of our species 😂 when they oppose us in our quest to finally see the sun 😍🌤 and raise two children together 👨‍👨‍👦‍👦 and stay together for millennia 🙈💕 haha just kidding... unless?😳

nOTP

Since I interpret the pillar men as a family of which Kars and Esidisi are the two good dads, I tend not to like the occasional Kars/Wammu (but I’ve seen some people getting harassed for shipping them and like??? bro calm down)

random headcanon

You know how he made the vampire horses? I bet he made all sort of vampire animals, for “practicing” or as “enrichment training” for babby Wammu and Santana, at least that’s what he says. Truth is, he really liked having all those feral little animals around.

unpopular opinion

He actually looks better in his full clothed get up than when he is showing his dick to the sun and Speedwagon U_U

song i associate with them

undefined

Miles and Miles by Yacth, cannot credit this one as my idea, read the lyrics on a fanart, I’ll try to find it and reblog. The song fits a lot with his “death” and make me very melancholic :(

favorite picture of them

when will my husband return from the war T-T one of my favorite araki tropes of “you will feel empathy for this villain”

BRUNBO

favorite thing about them

What can I say that has not been said before? He’s stomped toxic masculinity into the ground, he is kind, he is generous, he is cold, astonishingly sexy, dangerously scary, determined, and so very very very weird. If you are not in love with him, you are wrong.

least favorite thing about them

Issues of organized crime hit very close at home, I have to do a lot of mental gymnastics and when it comes to Vento Aureo. It gets tiring when I see non-italian fans (or hell, Araki himself in some instances) simplifying the situation or romanticizing the “problematic” aspects of Bruno instead of participating in critical consumption. It’s not that I think Bruno shouldn’t be a gray character, that’s actually one of his strenghts!, just that people should be a bit more mindful when talking about him.

favorite line

“nya nya” :3

brOTP

@ Trish ″You are my daughter... You’re my daughter! Boogie woogie woogie!”

OTP

A series started since the 80s, 8 parts long, innumerable characters... and the second spot for most fics on ao3 goes to Bruabba, a pairing that is together for half of a part and involves no one of the protagonists or recurring characters of the main series. Oversaturated? Overrated? Absolutely not, it’s fucking great. The power they have...

nOTP

my take on Br*trish and Br*gio

random headcanon

He likes Miles Davis and his favourite movie is Il Postino which like, suggest a hedonistic streak. If he had the time, he would enjoy going to those contemporary art museum that no one gets. He’d spend 3 minutes looking at a spot on the ground and people would gather around it thinking it’s art, but he probably was just dissociating for a little.

unpopular opinion

I’ve seen people argue that he is a MILF cause he is protective and cares for his children, I’ve seen people argue that he should be called a DILF instead because he is emotionally cold and distant. Those takes are not just sexist, but legally wrong. I’m begging y’all to get educated on the new italian legislation, that uses the gender neutral terms Parent 1 and Parent 2 (genitore 1 / genitore 2) he is a gnc P1ILF - Parent 1 I’d Like to Fuck

song i associate with them

undefined

Il Pescatore - Fabrizio De Andrè

Where do I start to explain to explain this song? I would need a literature course. In very poor words, it’s about a fisherman helping a murderer as a last act before dying; it’s a whole reflection on morality and The Law vs love, kindness and humanity. You know, Bruno :)

favorite picture of them

GYRO

favorite thing about them

The last Zeppeli, returning once again in both the role of mentor and companion, his destiny intertwining with the Joestars. I get emotional about this shit. He’s so goddam cool, an executioner doctor cowboy, should be a ridiculous Mary Sue and instead works so well as a deuteragonist. He has one of the most satisfying character arcs in all of jojo to me (and in most of the stuff I’ve read).

least favorite thing about them

Hol Horse and Mista runned so he could laze on the sofa, waiting for you to make him a sandwich. He’s a misogynist, a fucking disgrace when compared to the feminist icons of past cowboy tropes in jojo >:(

favorite line

"If I stare at his ass the whole time, I can't win!"

brOTP

Valkyrie best girl, no joke she was the character I was most worried about getting hurt

OTP

Steel Ball Run is my favorite love story, that’s all I’ll say cause it’s getting late and I don’t want to cry

nOTP

I don’t think I’ve seen him shipped in any pairing that I actively despised? I dunno, Gyro x the cougar that cheated on her husband with him? I dunno Gyro x Women in general cause women deserve better than his stinky ass???

random headcanon

He probably has notebooks full of doodles of when he was a kid, when he was trying to learn automatically to recognize the golden ratio. Pages full of spirals, flowers, apples, animals and interspersed with his shitty jokes (which he probably had no occasion to share before he met Johnny given the severe environment he grew up in, he probably felt so happy to finally find someone he could share his thoughts with oh god here come the tears)

unpopular opinion

He is so fucking sexy. Yes I said that. His long hair is sexy, his green lipstick is sexy, the hands on his belt pointing to his “balls” are sexy, his canonically soft hands are sexy, yes even his GO GO ZEPPELI grill is sexy. He hits both my moronsexual and sapiosexual side, passing through my monstersexual side because everything about his appearance is an eldricht horror.

song i associate with them

undefined

Yee -and I cannot stress this enough- Haw! Big Sky by Orville Peck

favorite picture of them

[mothman-clarice-2]

Since you is a fan of Catherine and know a lot of knowledge of her.What’s your opinion about“St. Bartholomew's Day massacre”?

Oh yes, this is always a tough topic whenever I talk about Catherine.

This is the event that Catherine is most known for and for good reason. It was a brutal and horrific event that shocked both Protestants and Catholics at the time. It is a great example of how tense the rivalry was between protestantism and Catholicism.

My general opinion on Catherine's role in the massacre is that she indirectly caused it.

This will take a while to explain because there is a lot of stuff and a lot of people involved in the massacre. Please remember that I am not a professional historian. I have a very basic understanding of the history and politics behind the event but I am definitely not an expert.

The massacre was caused by many different things that I will try to summarize as good as I can. Remember that I have to greatly over-simplify this stuff because I am not going to write a thousand page long essay on this. This topic is incredibly diverse and I could write an entire doctoral thesis on it.

The people that you need to remember are Catherine (obviously), Catherine's son King Charles, Henry of Navarre, Gaspard de Coligny, and The Guise family.

Catherine was the queen of France but the laws at the time said that women could not make decisions like kings could. The way she gained power was because all her sons were very young when they became kings so she made decisions for them.

Charles was very young at the time of the massacre and did not know politics well. He was also very sick and mentally ill. This is important to remember when talking about his role in the massacre.

Henry of Navarre was the son of the Protestant leader Jeanne d'Albret. Gaspard de Coligny (who I will call Coligny for the rest of this post) was another important leader of the Protestants.

The Guise family was a very powerful catholic family in France.

At this time, Catholics and protestants in France were fighting a lot. Protestants thought the catholic church was corrupt and Catholics felt threatened by the protestants.

Catherine was catholic but she liked protestantism and would have become a protestant but that would have enraged Catholics in France. Catherine wanted to make peace between the religions and did two things that are important to the massacre. She helped pass a peace treaty called the "Peace of Saint-Germain-en-Laye" which ended the third war of religion in France. Catholics refused to accept this peace and were outraged when Catherine allowed Coligny (a protestant) to join the french council.

Catherine wanted to help tensions by marrying her catholic daughter to protestant Henry of Navarre as a symbol of peace between the religions. This did nothing to help and people just got more angry.

There were also things outside of politics that were causing the french people to be angry. The harvest was bad that year so people were hungrier. Taxes had also increased so people were obviously mad about that. Given these things, people would be more angry than usual and more likely to be violent. I am not saying these are the main reasons the massacre happened, but they are important for context.

Another important event that happened was that Coligny was almost killed by an assassin. He was wounded but he did not die. There are rumors about who sent the assassin to kill him but the main choices are The Guise family, the Duke of Alba (He was a spanish diplomat), and Catherine. I believe Catherine or the Guises are the most likely choices.

The Guise family were very catholic and hated that the Protestant Coligny was part of the council. They did not want protestants to have any political power so it would make sense for them to try to kill him.

Catherine had been concerned that Coligny was influencing Charles too much. Coligny and Charles had been good friends and Catherine felt that Coligny was using his authority to make Charles believe everything he told him. Charles had become more hateful towards the Catholics and the Guise family and it is believed that this hate was caused by Coligny. There are other concerns that Catherine had about Coligny but I do not feel like explaining them here, this is already a very long post.

I have one concern with the theory about Catherine. She did not like using murder to deal with people she did not like. I think immediately deciding to kill Coligny just because she had concerns makes no sense. Catherine almost never relied on impulse, she always thought about her plans thoroughly.

The attempted assassination of Coligny enraged the protestants and started a crisis that would lead to the massacre.

One night, Catherine and Charles had a private meeting to decide what should be done about the crisis. No records of this meeting have survived but apparently they agreed to assassinate some protestant leaders. Soon some authorities were ordered to shut the city gates to prevent a protestant revolt. They then sent swiss mercenaries to gather some protestant nobles and kill them in the streets. Coligny was killed as well.

It is important to note that the protestants had become very angry towards the monarchy and there was concern that they would try to overthrow them. This was a main concern to Charles.

As you can expect, these murders are what began the massacre. Charles and Catherine never expected or intended to cause such violence and tried to stop the massacres many times. All they could do was prepare for a fourth civil war and hope that it ended quickly.

There is much more to this event but this post is already extremely long so I am going to summarize and end it here. I think Catherine unintentionally caused the massacre. If she intended to cause it then she would not have tried to stop and avoid it. Catherine ultimately wanted peace between the religions and she knew a massacre would not help with that goal. I am not completely sure why they decided to kill protestant nobles and leaders but I probably need to do more research on that.

I adore Catherine, I think she was extremely ahead of her time and was incredibly smart. She knew how to manipulate a sexist system to gain the same power as a king and made many revolutionary additions to French culture and the modern world. She went through so much death and tragedy that it is shocking she did not break down under the pressure. Despite how much I admire her, that does not mean I cannot see her flaws. She made many decisions that were well-meaning but led to terrible situations. She sometimes let her emotions take control of her and impact her political decisions. She was often disconnected from many parts of french politics because she was not born in France and just did not understand it. There are many flaws with Catherine just like every other person. Despite my adoration for her, it is important that I recognize her flaws and the bad things she has done. Of course, it is undeniably difficult to recognize that your idol may have caused one of the deadliest massacres in french history but it is still necessary to come to terms with it.

[echospool]

tagged by @linz33y. Pretty sure she already knows most of this about me, but it’s fun to go through anyway ^_^

relationships: None current. I really should have put more effort into dating pre-covid. I haven’t had many long term relationships, and the ones I’ve had have been....less than nurturing. The last person I saw with any regularity was a coworker. We hooked up on 2017 on Inauguration Day in a fit of drunken despair. They got clingy. I ghosted. Protip: it’s hard to ghost someone you work with, but with enough determination anything can be done. We are on good terms now though.

break ups: My relationship before that one was....uh....my boss’s boss kind of blackmailed me into dating him. He told me he loved me, and that his idea of love was “someone he would actually visit in the hospital if they called him because he doesn’t really care about people that much.” He then went on to explain to me that mansplaining isn’t a real thing, and the fact that I was involved in Women in Tech organizing was inherently sexist against men. We broke up badly and then I quit my job and went elsewhere.

kids: not so far. probably not in the future, but I’ve definitely considered adopting so we’ll see.

brothers and sisters: I have a younger sister who just finished up library school.

pets: I have two excellent cats. A grey longhair named Aleister Meowley and a tuxedo cat named Darien. They’re my buds.

surgeries: I had my tonsils and adenoids out when I was 12. Also they shaved down the tubes in my nose and snipped of my uvula while they were in there. And I had 2 emergency surgeries to unblock a bile duct in my liver and then remove my gallbladder in October 2018. Oh, and I got my wisdom teeth out without laughing gas. It was horrifying.

tattoos: 4! My first tattoo was a matching one with my sister. We got the leaves from the last page of “What you Know First” by Patricia MacLachlan on our right shoulderblades. I also have a sunflower on my left elbow, “Non sum qualis eram.” on my left wrist, and a plague doctor with lavender and poppies on my right shoulder that I got in June. I want to get tattooed again soon.

countries you’ve been to: US native. I’ve been to Mexico, Barbados, Aruba, Costa Rica, and China.

been in an airplane: Yes

been in an ambulance: No

sing karaoke: I love the shit out of karaoke.

ice skating: A little bit when I was a kid. It sucked and I hated it.

been on a cruise: Twice when I was little. I wanted to go on the Writing Excuses Cruise this year, but I’m pretty sure in a post-2020 world I will never voluntarily get on a boat again.

driven a motorcycle: No thank you.

ridden a horse: Yes. I went to horse camp a couple times in the summer when I was a kid.

stayed in a hospital: When my gallbladder and liver were failing in 2018 I spent about a week in one of the worst hospitals in [CITY NAME REDACTED]. It was truly horrifying. Do not recommend.

favorite fruit or berries: Cherries

favorite colors: In 2012 I got a black Kia Soul so that I could say that things were “black like my Soul” and have it be perfectly accurate

last text: “It’s definitely helping a bit. But probably more as an air purifier than a cooler. It feels less musty in here.”

coffee or tea: Coffee. Yes milk, no sugar.

favorite pie: Also probably cherry

favorite pizza: Hard to go wrong with a greasy pepperoni pizza

cat or dog: KITTIES

favorite time of the year: Autumn

met a star: Not that I recall.

flown a helicopter: No thank you.

been on tv: My Kindergarten class appeared on local news one time.

broken my leg: Never broken a bone!

seen a ghost: I wish

been sick in a taxi: I’ve been queasy but never thrown up in a taxi

seen someone die: I used to volunteer at a hospice on the “transition team,” the team that sat with people as they died if there was no available family to sit with them. I worked multiple shifts and sat with people as they were “actively dying” but was never actually in the room when the moment happened.

I don’t really have tumblr friends yet. I’m pretty bad at interacting. But if you would like to be my tumblr friend, do this and tag me letting me know :)

[sunkissedpages]

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Six || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Sat down with my rose water candle lit, James Taylor record playing, and cherry coke and finished this sucker. Don’t let the beginning fool you 👀

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst god why am I such a dramatic ass bitch I thrive on it

What I listened to while writing: ...the twilight score (the only good thing that came out of that franchise was the music don’t @ me) I listened to A Nova Vida 3 times in a row. Also Tiny Meat Gang which if any of you read this part of my intro regularly I’m so sorry my music taste is so fucking weird if you couldn’t tell already and TMG takes the cake.

Word Count: 3k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

“Y/N?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Don’t sleep on the floor tonight.”

You froze, only 93% sure you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“You slept in like six sweaters last night, you’ve been taking ibuprofen all day, don’t make yourself miserable again by sleeping on the floor.”

You stood unmoving, still all the way across the room with your arms crossed. Tom was way more observant than you gave him credit for. “Tom, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” In fact, you were almost positive it was a terrible idea.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep on the floor tonight, but as your boss I’m demanding you sleep in the bed,” he insisted.

“You know you’re not actually my boss, right? And you have a concussion there’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor,” you sighed and gave in “but if it’ll get you to shut up we can share the bed.”

You turned off the light and made your way to your side and hesitantly climbed into bed next to him before settling under the covers. There went your heart again, pounding rapidly in your chest, and slowly what had been a comfortable silence slipped into an awkward one. Both of you were lying on your backs, completely stiff, totally uncomfortable. You’d been tired after watching Titanic, but now you were wide awake. It was just like last night and you were about to give up and move to the floor again when Tom spoke suddenly.

“We should order waffles in the morning.”

You wanted to laugh. You had been expecting him to say something serious about how this wasn’t working and one of you should move to the floor, but instead that came out of his mouth.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like the waffles here would be good,” he laughed.

He must have hit his head harder than you thought. “Okay, yeah sure we can get waffles,” you agreed. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You woke up to sunlight, not your alarm. Tom had opened the curtains and the light was streaming in through the window, directly into your eyes. Slowly, things came into focus. Tom was getting ready in front of the window, making him look like a silhouette against the pink sunrise. You watched him throw a t-shirt over his head and roll a pair of socks on. You didn’t know what time it was, but you could tell it was the early from the way your body protested when you rolled onto your other side, away from the sunlight.

Tom turned around when he heard you moving. “Oh, sorry did I wake you?”

You rolled back over. “No, it’s just the sunlight.”

“Sorry, I’ll close the curtains when I leave. We’re not called for a few more hours if you want to go back to sleep. I’m just headed to the gym. Do you want to come?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” You couldn’t tell if he was just being polite or extending a genuine invitation, but running around after Tom’s ass all day was workout enough. Of course, you kept that bit to yourself. “Are you even supposed to be working out with your head and stuff?” you asked, concerned that you’d get in trouble he didn’t rest for as long as possible.

“Doctors said I’d be fine today,” he shrugged and slung a backpack over his shoulder.

“Okay, well be careful, have fun and all that jazz,” you said and waved a hand in the air noncommittally, already half asleep..

“Get some more sleep, sounds like you need it.” Tom said as he put on his sneakers. “When I come back I’ll have the waffles.”

So he remembered that. Half of you wondered if he’d just said it in a sleepy haze, but you were happy he was following through. Tom closed the curtains as promised before he left and you fell back asleep almost immediately.

When you woke up again it was to the door slamming closed. After you realized it was only Tom you relaxed a little. His hands were full of takeout boxes and you could hear the music blasting from his earbuds.

“You hungry?” he asked and only got a groan in response. You held a pillow over your eyes as he opened the curtains to let the light in again. He shook his head, but smiled at you as he sat down in the armchair in front of your side of the bed. “Here,” he held one of the boxes out to you, “you don’t even have to get up.” You didn’t move. “Come on, y/n, your food is going to get cold.”

You sat up at last, squinting in the bright sunlight, finally getting a good look at Tom. He’d discarded his t-shirt in the time he’d been back, presumably while you had the pillow over your face, and was now sitting shirtless in front of you. His shoulders and arms glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and his damp curls stuck to his forehead stubbornly. 

“You okay?” he asked, holding your food out to you and cocking his head to one side. You realized you’d been staring.

You chalked it up to being tired and took the food from his hands. “Yeah sorry, still waking up.”

“I didn’t know what to get you, so I got you these.”

You opened the container and peered into it. Inside were two chocolate chip waffles with strawberries on top. “These are perfect, thanks.”

“You want syrup? I have a bunch of the little packets.”

You made a face. “No thanks.”

Tom stared at you in disbelief. “You don’t like syrup?”

“Hate it.”

“Figures,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes. “You hate everything good.”

He was joking, but you fought a frown, suspecting that what he said had some truth behind it. Sometimes it did feel like you were the villain in Tom’s eyes, always on his ass about schedules and social media. It was kind of your job to take the fun out of everything, and you supposed he had a right to be frustrated about it, but you still felt the sting of every snide comment he made to you. 

As you ate your waffles you gazed out the window, watching Venice wake up. The city was drenched in golden light that made everything look like an old movie. The canals were already bustling with produce salesmen and friendly neighbors greeting each other. Excited families of tourists walked up and down the sidewalks with open maps trying to get a head start on the day. In the building across from yours, women leaned out of windows to hang laundry or water plants. It looked like the intro scene to a classic romance. You snapped your attention away from the window when you felt Tom looking at you.

“Are you okay?”  he asked for the second time.

“Just people watching,” you shrugged, skirting around the question then changed the subject. “By the way, why are you lying to Harry and Haz about the rooms? I didn’t say anything to them about it, but figured we should be on the same page.”

“Oh, uh, the pair of them have big mouths and I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

You almost choked on a strawberry. Tom had lied because he thought someone would assume you and him were sleeping together.

“If anyone thought that, we’d just tell them the truth, obviously.” 

“Yeah, but once it got out people’d assume the worst and you’d get fired, or even blacklisted,” he explained.

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of consequences to sharing a room if people found out. Wasn’t having to share it with Tom at all punishment enough?

“What would happen to you?” you asked.

“Probably nothing,” Tom admitted with a shrug.

“What the fuck? That’s not fair.”

“I know, but you’re the handler. Maybe I’d get fined.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Tom leaned back, brushing the damp curls off of his forehead. “Anyway, that’s why we can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, good to know.” You looked down at your half finished waffles. “You want these? I’m full.”

“Sure, thanks.” Tom took the container from your hands and immediately ruined your leftovers with three packets of syrup.

You thought about yesterday, how easy it would’ve been to ruin your career with a few little words. “I wish you’d told me not to say anything sooner, I could’ve fucked that up for both of us.”

“Sorry,” Tom said sheepishly. “It’s just awkward to talk about, and honestly it’s fucking sexist, but it’s the industry.” Tom finished scarfing down your waffles then looked at his phone. “Fuck,” he said with his mouth still full, “we have to be ready in 20 minutes.”

That sentence didn’t mean much to you, but Tom launched himself out of the armchair and began rifling through his suitcase frantically. He let you brush your teeth and hair before hopping in the shower, something he probably should have done much earlier. Getting ready didn’t take much time for you now. You usually just threw on whatever and Harrison’s hoodie over top so you were pretty much dressed and ready by the time Tom was done showering.

“We’ve got five,” you informed him as he shook his hair dry with a towel.

“Yeah, I know,” he snapped.

You pursed your lips, but kept your composure. “Okay, well I’m going downstairs. We shouldn’t go together.”

Tom didn’t even acknowledge he heard you or say goodbye as you let yourself out. You’d never met a boy so obsessed with his appearance.

Most of the cast was downstairs already when you got there. Of course Tom was the only one missing. If he was late everyone was going to be even more pissed at him than they already were.

“Wow, y/n, we beat you for once,” Haz joked when he saw you.

“Haha,” you said, genuinely trying to laugh, but ended up sounding like a robot trying to imitate human sarcasm.

Harrison scrunched his eyebrows and pulled you to the side. “You okay? You’ve been acting really weird lately.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the time change?”

“It’s only an hour different from London, but yeah I’ll believe you if you want me to.” You smiled thankfully. Haz had always been there to talk if you needed, but never one to pry, even when he knew something was up. “How’s Tom?” Haz asked, changing the subject for you, not knowing it was going to make you even more flustered than you already were.

“What, why would I know how Tom is?” You were definitely sweating.

“You were supposed to be checking up on him to make sure he’s resting.”

“Oh yeah, he was fine when I last saw him.” You weren’t technically lying, but Haz only stared harder at you, his icy blue eyes trying to read you. It made you feel guilty about keeping things from him. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

You were saved from answering when Zendaya appeared behind Harrison and grabbed him by the shoulders and greeted you both.

“Y/n, please tell me you’re going to the thing tomorrow night,” she said. “Don’t leave me alone with the boys.”

“What’s wrong with ‘the boys’?” Haz protested, while Z nudged him playfully.

“What thing? I thought tomorrow was an off day.”

“Yeah we get the afternoon off, but there’s a party at some bar late tomorrow night. It’s one of those mandatory press outings that get publicity for the movie.”

You were familiar with these events because you were usually forced to go. The last one had been bowling back in London where you weren’t even allowed to participate, but had to monitor everyone’s alcohol intake and social media posts for the night. Harrison had hung out with you out of pity, but the rest of the cast kept their distance from you, the chaperone, and you couldn’t blame them.

You automatically dreaded the thought of having to go to this party. It sounded a thousand times worse than the bowling thing, but forced a smile for Zendaya anyway. “If it’s a publicity event, I’ll probably be there working.”

“Thank god,” she cheered before shifting her gaze over your shoulder. “Well good morning, sunshine.”

Tom had appeared finally and smiled brightly at her, an expression you’d only seen him give Zendaya. He looked at her like she hung the moon, which was fair, but for an actor he didn’t hide his infatuation very well. You fought the urge to scoff. Zendaya could do way better than Tom.

“How’s your head?” she asked him.

“Like nothing ever happened” he replied and knocked on the side of his skull as proof.

“Yep, he’s still a dumbass,” you added under your breath earning an elbow in your side from Tom.

“Fuck off, y/n.”

“You first.” 

To your surprise, Tom chuckled. “Good one. Are you sure I’m the one with the concussion?”

“Oh like yours was so original,” you shot back. 

Tom didn’t respond, but rolled his eyes through a smirk.

Now that Tom was downstairs everyone could get to set. Apparently the first scene of the day was taking place on some sort of tour boat, which made your job a lot easier because Tom was stuck on a boat. All you had to do was make sure he stayed on the boat.

Honestly at this point you had no idea what this movie was even about. There were about thirteen kids on that boat and you didn’t know what any of their characters were, aside from Peter Parker. You were so removed from the production process by now that you were almost always lost during filming.

Today you, Harry, and Harrison were stuck inside a random building with a bunch of crew because they had to clear so much space for a clean shot of the boat on the canal. The three of you practically lived behind the monitor these days. You all were making up your own dialogue for the scene being shot because the only people who could hear what was going on had headsets. Technically, as a production assistant you had a headset you could use, but this was more fun.You called Jacob, Harrison took Tom, and Harry claimed Tony.

Your Jacob voice was absolutely terrible. “I’m Jacob and I hate this fuckin hat, Ned would look better with a bowl cut,” you said in your lowest possible register.

Harry and Haz burst out laughing, getting some annoyed looks from the director of photography and digital intermediate technician.

“Something Jacob would say, but definitely not like that.” Haz teased. “His voice isn’t even that low, y/n!”

“Okay fine, you go.”

“Uh, I’m Tom and I can’t keep my mouth shut during interviews.”

“Or ever,” Harry added and you were surprised that sentence hadn’t come from your own mouth.

“How do you sound just like him?” You shook your head in wonder. If you had your eyes closed you could've sworn it was Tom standing in front of you and not his best friend.

Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m Tom and I don’t need a fucking handler, god I’m twenty-two for fucks sake.”

“Heard him say that before,” you groaned.

“Keep going, Haz,” Harry encouraged.

“Yeah, I have a handler, but y/n’s on her goddamn knees for Jon Watts and he fucking buys into it. It’s the only reason she hasn’t been fired!”

“Wait, what the fuck, Harrison?” you felt like you’d been slapped.

“Dude.” Harry shook his head.

“That’s not funny! Did Tom actually say that?”

Haz and Harry went stiff and silent in front of you. You had half a mind to go outside and yank Tom off of that fucking boat yourself, but you needed to know if it was true first.

“Great fucking job, Haz,” Harry muttered.

“So he said that about me?” You looked back and forth between the two of them, daring one of them to answer you. Hesitantly Harrison nodded. “When?”

“The first day in Venice, when he had those meetings.”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of when Tom had the opportunity to talk shit about you to the boys, but you were with him the whole day.

“How is that possible?” you demanded.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Harrison gave him a look like a warning. Harry continued anyway.

“In the groupchat.”

In that moment you felt everything slow down. The roaring of anger in your ears halted, your breathing slowed, time stood still.

“You guys have a groupchat to talk shit about me?” Your voice was much quieter than it had been less than a minute ago. The sentence sounded ridiculous coming out of your mouth. 

“It’s just our groupchat it isn’t meant for that or anything,” Haz mumbled, finally speaking up.

“Not specifically, but it happens anyway?” you assumed out loud. Neither of them denied it. “When did he send it?”

Haz shot Harry another look, which he ignored. “When he was in the meeting.”

“So he sent that when we were all sitting in the hallway together and neither of you bothered to say anything to me?”

“What were we supposed to say?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe: hey y/n, your boss is a huge fucking dick maybe quit while you’re ahead so you don’t look like an idiot when all of this blows up?”

“Y/n, you already knew he hated you, why is this a big deal now?”

But you couldn’t exactly explain that you were so upset because you and Tom didn’t really hate each other as much anymore and bonded over Titanic and waffles, and shared a bed, so you just started taking off Harrison’s sweatshirt. It felt like it was suffocating you now.

“Y/n what are you-”

“You can take this fucking back.” you shoved the sweatshirt back into Harrison’s arms and started towards the doors. 

“What? Y/n, can we talk about this-”

“You didn’t want me to report him, did you?” you cried. “That’s why you really didn’t tell me?” Again, you received no answer.

“Where are you going?” Haz asked, pleading, but you didn’t know. All you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

“Don’t follow me.”

You burst out of the building and onto the streets of Venice, your heart being pulled in a thousand different directions. Traffic moved around you effortlessly, like you weren’t even there. The hotel. The airport. Tom. What was going to be the least painful?

Son of a bitch this is late I’m v sorry!! But um wow what a ride, who let me have a computer?? It’s very possible this has typos, also sorry for that. 

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator

WOKO Tags: @parkerstylesperalta @everythingbooknerd @marvelellie @splashofbi @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @timelock97 @ohheyitsem @starsholland @honeymoonparker @zeenee @musicgirl234 @brozekey3215 @tryn25 @gracie4290 @lovinnholland @bluparisdeux @summernykole @sherlocksangelinwonderland 

Send me an ask to be added/dropped from a taglist

[dxmedstudent]

From the total female populations of London and Cambridge – the cities between which he split his time – Seagull selected those roughly his age and up to 10 years younger. Then he reduced that group to the proportion that were likely to be university educated, to reflect the reality of his networks, as a school maths teacher and doctorate student.Then came a harder parameter: what fraction Seagull might find attractive. After going through his Facebook friends list, he found 1,200 women who met his criteria for age, location and education – and of one in every 20, he says he thought that he “could imagine us, in another life”.

I find these kinds of things interesting. The formula makes sense - there’s a finite number of people in your geographical area who might meet your criteria, and  you’ll probably like a small number of those; some of whom might like you back. He decides only about 70 or so people meet his criteria. Which seems... a little low. A lot of commenters found his age criteria problematic. Would a 22 year old woman really have as much in common with him as a woman a couple of months older? People often try to cite pseudoscience on this count; that men want young and fertile women, but most women are fertile and interested in having kids well into their 30s and often 40s. In reality most people end up with a partner of a similar age to them, and there’s a lot of variation between people. I have to admit, I was wary of guys who refused to date women even a little older than them, and those who refused to date women their age were a definite ‘no’ - can any man actully tell that a woman is  2 or 3 years older than him by her looks or actions? No, so why would it be something that prevents attraction or compatibility. There’s something sexist behind thinking like that which I can’t get behind. Most of us want people at a similar life stage to us, but to me, if someone has a very fixed idea of what they find attractive, that inflexibility is itself a problem. I’m not going to be in my early 30s forever, and I want a partner who doesn’t feel that only women in a narrow age range are interesting. Likewise, I’m not obese, but I wouldn’t want  a man who can’t see bigger women as attractive. I’d want to know that if I gained weight, he would love me for who I was; I know I’d do the same. And also if a man stated he’s only into caucasian women; I’d be wary. I wanted to be with someone who would consider and value others for who they are and who can see beauty in all sorts of people, not just conventionally attractive young women, even if I happen to be one. I don’t want a partner who doesn’t see other women as people. That said, it drives home that even if you’re on a dating site with thousands of people, the ones that meet your criteria will be a small proprotion. That’s why it’s important to consider your criteria carefully. Are they reasonable? Are they really non-negotiable? For example, I can’t stand smoking and wouldn’t date someone politically conservative, but didn’t really think about height and weight. Yes, I think it really is a bit too picky to only date a guy if he’s tall or well-built. Yes, people have preferences, but the less we let ourselves be blinded by preconceptions, the more likely we are not to miss someone special because they didn’t meet a criterion that doesn’t really matter. Pick your criteria carefully.

This is where optimal-stopping theory can come into play, identifying the point in a process at which to stop for best results – and here the magic number, says Seagull, is 37%. Say he wanted to be in a relationship by the age of 40, and was prepared to commit to going on two dates a week, for 50 weeks of the year, for five years: 500 dates total. Optimal-stopping theory would have Seagull go on 185 dates – taking him the best part of two years – then, armed with the insights he gained along the way, pursue the woman he liked best from the 186th on.“You don’t know at what stage in these 500 dates you will meet your most suited person, and you’re probably going to miss them – but mathematically, this is how you can settle better.“This is where you really need to trust the maths – you might think that the first person you meet is amazing, but you’ve got to get through the first 185. If we simulated our lives a million times, the person that you would date best would still be after 185.”

But where do these numbers come from? Optimal stopping theories basically suggests you need to work out how many people you want to date before you settle down, then dating X number before you settle on the first one who meets your criteria. Now, that gives you a bit of experience and an idea of what you want, but dealing with people isn’t like picking dice out of a bag. You can’t tell when someone nice will come up. In real life, some people spend happy 50 year marriages with the first person they dated, or the 5th, or the 27th. You aren’t guaranteed to find a good date after 185 that you liked as much as date 1 - maths suggesting you’d be likely to make a statistically good match can’t necessarily factor in that you might miss better matches in your earlier dates. So it makes no sense to throw over dates you like early on in the hope that later on you’ll probably like someone else just as much, or they might be better. By the time you reach your number, anyone you liked from the previous 185 dates will probably have paired up and moved on, so it’s not like you can always go back to people you thought were nice. It seems more sensible to treat each person as a person; if you like them, stick around and see.

Now 35 and still single, Seagull has continued his investigation into “making the maths of love work for you” in his book, The Life-Changing Magic of Numbers, as well as on dates....

I am surprised to learn that he has only been on seven or eight dates since doing Drake’s equation a few years ago. Maybe his mum was right when, on seeing his formula, she told him he was being ridiculous, and “to go out and meet people”.“I’m terrible,” he admits. “I leave a long gap between dates. After a date, if you didn’t have a good time, you feel despondent. I had another date, where I liked her and she didn’t like me. As a human, you get upset. That’s why scientists trust the maths: keep going.”

Lots of commenters point this out, and are a little cruel about the fact that even with his formula, he’s still single. OK, it’s pretty obvious that if your entire strategy is ‘go on lots of dates’ and you don’t then you will fail. But I’d like to propose that there needs to be a balance between quantity and quality. On the one hand, talking to a few people at a time means that he wouldn’t get so despondent if one person didn’t fancy him, because it would take the pressure off any one particular prospective date. When you go on few dates, it’s easier to feel rejected. And dating has a lot of rejection; because the odds of hitting it off with any one particular person are low. So you need to try to meet more people to increase the likelihood of finding someone with whom you share chemistry. Dating experience is very useful; it teaches you a lot about what you like and what you don’t, and what chemistry feels like. It’s fun. When I was dating around, I had some criteria I wouldn’t compromise on, but if a guy seemed decent and could hold an interesting convo, I tried to meet them. I had interesting conversations with all of them; I can’t really say I had any awkard or ‘horrible’ dates’; I guess  I selected for men who seemed smart and able to hold a conversation. After a date, I’d reflect before deciding I wouldn’t meet them again. Not only to make sure I wasn’t rejecting someone I got on well with, but also to see what I’d learned. I’m not always a ‘lust at first sight’ person, so the idea of rejecting people quickly seemed harsh. Sometimes you grow to like people after getting to know them a little. With the guy I’m currently seeing, I knew I’d want to see him again from the moment I saw him, but our first date almost didn’t feel like a first date because our messaging went really well. That was the only date I was nervous before, because I liked him before we met and I really hoped there’d be something there. Which is partly why I think people should engage with the process earnestly; if I’d just sent a couple of cursory messages before each of my dates before meeing, I feel I’d have had much less interesting converstions, and felt less attracted to people.

Like the Drake equation, online dating can present you only with a pool of suitable partners you could potentially meet. Attraction must be assessed in person, “and there is no formula for that”, says Seagull. Or at least not yet, he adds; he is confident that machine-learning technology will eventually be able “to read your mood, your mind … and detect bits of our personality” to predict the presence of that elusive spark.In decades to come, it may even be possible to simulate dates the same way that it is football matches now, modelling every variable – although, Seagull says, probably not soon enough to be of any use to him.

Oh, this is depressing. Would I really want AI to decide who I might be attracted to? Can we really trust an algorithm to predict who we’d feel chemistry  for? I mean, research suggests some of the chemistry is biological (see: BO and attraction). It’s frustrating when you go on a date and there’s no chemistry, but part of the fun is knowing you’ve picked someone yourself, and that they picked you. Sure, using criteria to help you sort can be useful, but you don’t want to be too prescriptive.

Honestly, I just found engaging anyone who had an interesting profile and was fun to chat with was the best way. The only way to meet people is just to start and see how it goes.