#everything ive been a part of for the last 4 years in this lab has to b published eventually

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nycorix]

Consequences [8/11]

[fic post]

|part 1| |part 2| |part 3| |part 4| |part 5| |part 6| |part 7|

At long last I’m back with part 8!! Feat. the Director feeling proud of herself for #winning with him until she realizes, entirely too late, that she super lost

TW: emotional manipulation/abuse, medical stuff (see part 7 tw)

___________

8. 

When the Director enters Medical Bay One, 22 is sitting upright in the bed, posture ridiculously flawless, expression a perfect blank.

This does not surprise her.

She stands aside to let the medbot pass, looks on as it runs through diagnosis protocol, administers the first round of bespoke antivirals, disconnects his IV and pronounces him fit for release and monitoring. 

There was a time when she would have had to bring in a team of six. One for the treatment, the other five requisitioned for restraint purposes. Medbots only, of course—broken medbots quantifiably less expensive to repair or replace than broken employees.

Now, in year twelve of the program, 22 does not so much as twitch at any point of the procedure, his stone-faced stillness perfectly evocative of the bioengineered lab-grown AI superweapon all of New Liberty City believes him to be. If he is relieved when it is done, or apprehensive at her presence, it does not show on his face.

This does not surprise her either.

Indeed, the only thing about the operative in front of her that gives her pause is the fact that he, despite a fever of nearly 102 and a vitals display feed that is threatening to give her a migraine, does not look ill in the slightest. 

Then again, she amends, he doesn’t exactly look well either. The longer she studies him, the better she can see it: something about him is distinctly and unmistakably off, like if you took everything in a room and shifted it over two inches to the left.

The medbot leaves, but it might as well be invisible for all the attention 22 has paid it. His eyes have been on her from the moment she set foot through the door, and as she comes nearer that gaze sharpens—into the trademark unblinking uncanny fixed stare that all of the operatives have, the one that is just shy of predatory and that to this day still sets all her hair on end.

She bypasses this inconvenient primal reflex with practiced ease, fixing him with a measured stare of her own.

“When I received the operative health crisis notification,” she says mildly, in lieu of a greeting, “you were the last one I expected it to be.”

Predictably, this garners no discernible reaction. He sits there, watching, looking for all the world like a bot awaiting a directive.

“Nor, I must confess, was said health crisis anywhere within the ballpark of my expectations,” she continues, seeding the words with just the slightest measure of reproach. “Sudden-onset acute upper respiratory infection?” Reproach up a fifth of a degree. “A broken nose?”

This last finally seems to get through, if infinitesimally. A sea change stirs in his unnaturally pale eyes—the barest glimmer of…something. Not shame, not embarrassment or alarm or unease. Annoyance.

“A miscalculation,” he says, and the ever-present behavioral-scientist-backbrain part of her points out that he does not specify to which affliction he is referring. “It will not happen again.”

The lethal certainty baked into this statement sends a chill through the whole of her, scalp to soles. She muscles the fight-or-flight response down and smothers it. Lifts a brow, lips pressed in a thin smile of quiet regard, and inclines her head. 

“Walk with me.”

She leaves the room without a backward glance, his presence behind her like a weight at the top of her spine. The staccato click of her heels drowns out the faint swish of his socks on the tile of the hall, and when she clears the personnel from the nearest diagnostics room he’s there beside her, silent as death.

“Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the row of recently-vacated chairs facing the bank of assorted lab equipment.

He does not. He stays put by the smartwall just inside the door, standing: spine perfectly straight, shoulders square. If he’s tired or symptomatic it isn’t presenting in either facial expression or body language.

A lab tech pushes a bundle of clothing into her arms with a jumbled apology as they scurry out the door. The Director takes a look at it, huffs a laugh through her nose, and sets it on a table.

“I see they’ve managed to get the blood out of your jacket,” she says, taking it from the pile and handing it over to him.

He doesn’t even glance at it. Just accepts it wordlessly and slides it on over the thin black smart fabric undershirt he’s still wearing, his stay in Medical too brief to warrant an in-patient tunic. She frowns, just slightly, and hands him his boots and utility belt, which are received in identical fashion.

He reaches out for the gloves as she holds them out next, the extensive knotted trails of scar tissue beneath his skin visible under the harsh fluorescents. She pulls her gaze away, up to his face.

“It’s unlike you.” She speaks softly, almost gently. She wants to say she can see him brace for whatever is coming, but if she’s honest with herself any read she has on his expressions is guesswork at best, twelve years and multiple facial analysis lens apps be damned. “To lose to Nicholas, of all people.” 

To this, though, he again telegraphs annoyance to a degree she can pick up with reasonable confidence.

“I was still assessing his condition.” His voice, quietly brittle, is even harder to pick up than usual. “It was a mis…” He pauses, swallows. Immediately her interest is piqued—22 is not given to speaking without premeditation.

“Miscalculation,” she supplies.

The briefest of hesitations, then a nod. 

“Yes, so you said.” She narrows her eyes. There is significant overlap between his current expression and the one he makes when he violates censorship parameters—only, this can’t possibly be that. Even if he is thinking about the undoubtedly forbidden behaviors that landed him in this situation, the array filter does not censor thoughts. Not that any of the operatives were explicitly told this, of course.

In any case, hesitation in 22 historically amounts to weak spot in defenses, and the Director is by no means above using this to her advantage.

“Speaking of miscalculations.” She casts his vitals monitor up on the smartwall behind him, alongside data from the medbot’s report. “Can you tell me what this is?” She gestures to the image on the right, a cluster of vaguely hexagonal blobs stained bluish against a pale backdrop.

He looks at it a moment, then shakes his head, watching her sidelong. He’s starting to look just the slightest bit bleary—which, given his readings, would hardly be surprising if not for what and, more importantly, who he is.

“Human adenovirus,” she interjects into his telling silence. “HAdV-B14, to be exact. Known to cause acute upper respiratory infections ranging from mild to severe, occasionally fatal, especially in the young, elderly, or immunocompromised. Present specimen imaged twenty minutes ago from a throat swab of yours.” She folds her hands, watching his face.

“I’m not critical.” This is not a question; and the way he holds her gaze as he speaks is more than a little unsettling, as is the subtle note of satisfaction in the husk of his tone.

“....No.” She regrets the admission immediately and hastens to regain her ground. “However, there is still plenty of time and opportunity for you to become so, given the tenuous state of your health, as you are well aware.” She pauses, meeting his blank gaze unflinchingly. Recalibrates, casting new data to the smartwall with a flick of her wrist. This time it’s a building schematic, overlaid with a scrolling list of names. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you,” she continues, selecting an entry on the list, “of the extensive measures we have to take to ensure your safety and wellbeing.” The name she selects is random, one she only vaguely recognizes as one of the researchers: a time punch with a small box beside it that reads health check complete. “We screen everyone who enters the building,” she adds, when he doesn’t respond. “The air filtration system is top of the line, especially—” she sidesteps the words down here, carefully—“for sublevels A through D.”

If any of this means anything to him, he gives no indication. He simply watches her, and the screen, and waits.

She pulls up a portion of his file to overlay the schematic. Name, number, age, birthday. Date of initial autoimmune disorder incidence. Dates of subsequential flare-ups. Number, type, and dates of corrective therapies and procedures. List of current medications. He barely glances at it. 

“You’re more than old enough to understand the delicate balance your immune system is suspended in. The immunosuppressants you’re on alone would make you more susceptible to infection, never mind your lack of acquired natural immunities—and I’m sure you’re well aware of the fact that the former cannot be discontinued under any circumstances. Unless, of course, you would like another liver transplant.” She waits for him to flinch. He doesn’t.

Her jaw tightens. Waving away the display, she closes the distance between them, picking up a package of antibacterial wipes along her way.

“Given everything I have just shown you,” she says, tipping his chin down, bracing a hand—a gentling hand, a warning hand—against his jawbone as she begins wiping away dried blood leftover on his upper lip, “the only logical conclusion is that at some point in the last seventy-two hours, you or one of your fellow operatives spent a significant period of time outside of this building.” 

He stays still—stiller than should be possible—as she works at the staining on his skin. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. She’s not sure he’s even breathing, come to think of it. If it wasn’t for the warmth radiating off him, for the pulse in his neck, even she might be inclined to think him more machine than human.

“Of course,” she continues, “none of you were under directive to do so, meaning this excursion was unauthorized.” She gives him a meaningful look. A don’t worry, you aren’t in trouble as long as you confide in me look. “I already have the security feeds to confirm this, by the way,” she concludes, conversationally, pulling back to admire her handiwork. “I’m simply giving you the opportunity to tell me the truth before any more…” she pauses, delicately— “...final decisions are made.”

He says nothing. 

She presses her lips into a flat line, patience beginning to wear thin. “I don’t think you understand,” she begins, waving a grainy blow-up of a lens-captured photo from some customer-citizen’s social that depicts 06 and 22 huddled together in the middle of Greenleaf Square over to the blank smartwall, “how much is at stake here. Not just for you, but for her, and for Nicholas as well. So if you have any information for me, it is in your best interest and theirs to share it now.”

Minutes pass, silence and eye contact unbroken.

Irrational anger seizes her, product of the history between them—of the incomprehensible long game she suspects he’s playing but can’t even approximate the shape of; of the way he’s the perfectly obedient foil to 06’s rebellious streak, yet something in his eyes is anything but; of too many unfruitful conversations just like this one. 

“I didn’t want to do this, but—” she stops short, distracted by a sharp movement from 22. More of a twitch than anything else, but the sheer uncharacteristicness of it puts her immediately on high alert. His pulse simultaneously spikes, incongruous with the absence of any detectable motion from him.

She glances sharply at him when he does it again, some kind of spasm that has his vitals feed going momentarily haywire with each one. 

“Something the matter?” she says, eyes narrowing—and when it happens a third time, his expression contorting in an obvious flinch before he forcibly schools it back, it suddenly makes sense. 

“Gesundheit,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “I’d advise you not to keep trying to stop them like that, by the way. If you give yourself an aneurysm, I can’t help you.”

The contempt in the look he brings to bear on her then is enough to curdle her blood, though in a moment it, too, is wiped from his face with a hard blink and the faintest hint of a sniff.

She feels a headache coming on.

“Or Kit, for that matter,” she adds, in a sudden fit of inspiration, probing for sore spots that exist if one knows where to look. “Is she faring similarly after your little excursion, I wonder?”

“I don’t know.” His response is as instant as it is flat. 

“I believe you,” she concedes finally, after another long moment of not quailing beneath his stare, “but only because if she were severely ill you would have brought her to me.” She pauses. He doesn’t quite blink under her sudden scrutiny, but he doesn’t quite not, either. “Unless, perhaps, you’ve got her sequestered away somewhere on sublevel D.”

This, finally, visibly strikes a nerve. As well it should—he came out of the incident she’s referencing with a double concussion, a punctured lung, fourteen broken bones, twenty-eight mishealed ones and a stress-triggered flare up. He was in the ICU for almost a month.

…But then, of course, she doubts that’s the nerve that was struck. She remembers all too well how Kit flatlined no less than eight times during her liver transplant, and she’s certain he remembers it too. The only times he had surfaced from delirium during his own harrowing recovery were to ask if she was alive—and with such uncharacteristic distress that multiple personnel broke protocol to answer him truthfully, in case it would improve his chances of pulling through.

She had, regrettably, been one of said personnel. 

In the end, obviously, both operatives had survived, and if it was by virtue of the tenacity of their fucking bonds she did not care to know it.

When she glances at him again, his face is blank, any trace of a reaction wiped clean from it.

A spike of frustration nearly claims her before she tamps it down. 

“If neither of you are in critical condition,” she says evenly, “and if Catherine does not choose to join you in the next, let’s say, five minutes—” she makes a show of checking the time on her lenses— “then I’m afraid you’re going to have to take full responsibility for the consequences of your actions, with or without her participation.”

He remains silent. If she didn’t know him better, she’d almost think he was exhibiting the faintest air of impatience.

She sighs. “We both know whose idea it was to leave the grounds,” she says, softening a degree or two. An olive branch. A final offering before she drops the other shoe. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Risk assessment,” he says crisply—and oh, there’s the infection. Raised just a little louder now, she notes that his voice is nothing like itself, thick and raw like he’s been gargling knife blades. Interesting. “She would have left regardless. I followed her according to the buddy system protocol.” 

Listening to him makes her want to clear her own throat. She fights the instinct, instead pressing her lips together in the approximation of maternal concern she’s honed to perfection.

“If you tell me where she is now,” she says carefully, eyes fixed to his, “I will leave you both in the green. Just this once.”

It’s a bluff, all of it. Whether he knows this or not, whether his obstinate lack of cooperation is inspired by this, or his loyalty to Kit, or his compromised state, she couldn’t be fucked to guess; but whatever the case, he does not budge an inch. They stay locked in this stalemate of a stare before finally, hating herself, she blinks first.

“Time’s up,” she says calmly, though her mind is anything but. “Unless you can somehow summon her in the next ten seconds, I’ll be sending you out to do street cleanup.” She pulls up the appropriate communication channels and information packets on her lenses. “When Catherine is found, she will be assigned to SCQ for the remainder of the month.”

SCQ—what the operatives dubbed “the box” when they were children, despite all her efforts to shut the pejorative down—is Catherine’s least favorite punishment, and she knows as well as 22 does that expecting her to spend a full thirty days in it is absurd, even dangerous. 

“I’ll go,” he says without batting an eye, in what appears to be utter disregard of both his own failing health and the guaranteed wrath of his partner. As if in some involuntary acknowledgement of the first, however, he sneezes again, stifled to silence against the flat of his fist.

“Be careful.” Her tone is part admonishment, part threat, his name threaded onto the end of the phrase to seal the warning. As it leaves her lips his eyes snap to hers again, unnaturally quick, and something that looks disturbingly close to dangerous flashes in the depths of them, there and gone. 

She musters every ounce of her will not to flinch or look away and the moment passes almost before she can register it, leaving him looking distinctly more tired than before.

“Let me be clear: I’m assigning you to clear 13th through 17th Street, alone, before curfew,” she says tightly, unsettled in a way she can’t quite parse. “No assistance, no excuses. If you fail to comply, I’m sending you to the community services department in the morning. Do you understand the directive?”

“I understand.” His tone, beneath the layers of fatigue and congestion, is ice and steel. Worse, though his expression does not change, somehow she gets the distinctly uncomfortable impression that he is, against all sensible logic, pleased. “Will that be all?”

It feels entirely too much like letting him have the last word. She grasps at the straws of the resolve she’d thought was airtight, coming up with little more than a ghost of a threat, the last cast of a baitless hook. “Not quite.” She folds her arms. Realizes the defensive nature of the posture and almost unfolds them, forces herself to remain in the position for consistency, taps her fingers against her arm. “I’m sure you’re as concerned about Catherine as I am. Would you like me to notify you when she is found?”

His eyes when they lock on hers are baleful, a coldly burning gray that pins her like a butterfly to velvet. “That,” he says quietly, “will not be necessary.”

She takes a breath, but by the time the words come he is gone.

|part 9|

[luminnara]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time | ch 4

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Taglist:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely

Amoretta swam in and out of sleep. Whenever she surfaced, she saw bright lights and strange faces, and, assuming that she was in a HYDRA lab, she decided it was better if she just kept on dreaming. After a while, though, she couldn’t manage it anymore, and she finally woke up enough to actually take in her surroundings.

She was in a hospital bed, and...a gown? She couldn’t remember the last time she had been given clothing. When she tried to move, she found that her arms ached, and she had an IV sticking out of her. Okay, so wherever she was, they were trying to take care of her. Maybe. That seemed like a good sign. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said. “How’re you feeling?”

A figure came into view, blurry at first, and as he got closer she was able to get him in focus. Amoretta immediately stiffened, feeling threatened by this stranger, but as the scent of omega wafted in, she relaxed slightly. She couldn’t smell any alphas nearby, and that was good. 

Two good signs so far. 

“Wh-who are you?” She asked, her voice wobbly and hoarse. Her throat was so sore that talking was painful. 

“My name is Dr. Bruce Banner.” The man said, reaching towards a nearby table and grabbing a water bottle off of it. “I’m with the Avengers.”

Amoretta frowned. “The...who?”

He came near her slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle and offering it to her. “You’ve probably got a lot of questions. Mind if I ask a couple, though?”

She gave a little shrug as she raised the bottle to her lips. It felt strange to hold, the water tasting...different from what she was used to.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She thought for a moment, brows knitting together. “Subject 1096.”

It was Bruce’s turn to frown. “Did you ever have a...different name?”

After a moment, she nodded, trying to remember. It felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. Had it really been so long since she had gotten to say it?

“We can come back to that one.” Bruce said gently. “Do you know what year it is?”

She thought for a moment. “19...1986.”

The doctor pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something along the lines of “Christ, not another one…”

She got the feeling that she was off by a few years. 

“Well, Ten...is it alright if I call you that?”

She shrugged.

“...alright. Ten, it seems like you were cryogenically frozen for a few decades.”

“...decades?”

He nodded. “Your body seems to have handled it well, though.”

“Did I puke?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not that I saw.” He chuckled. 

Well, that was a little surprising. She had a tendency to vomit after being wrenched out of unnaturally cold naps. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my lab, at Stark Tower.”

“What continent?”

“North America.”

She made a thoughtful noise. “What month is it?”

“June.”

“So Ursa Major is out?”

Bruce paused. “...well, it’s hard to see with all the light pollution in the city, but...yes, I suppose it should be…”

She let out a sigh. “I miss it.”

Her voice was already sounding tired again, and Bruce was quick to take the water bottle back before it slipped from her hand. 

“You should get some more rest, Ten.” He suggested. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you caught up when you’re feeling more energetic.”

“Mhm.” her eyes fluttered closed. “Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“What city am I in?”

“New York.” He said, looking down at her curiously. “Manhattan, more specifically. Why?”

She smiled a little. “I wanna see...Brooklyn…”

As she drifted off to sleep again, Bruce rubbed his face. Well, that certainly was oddly specific of her to say. It was a good sign that she seemed lucid, though. 

“Captain Rogers is outside, Dr. Banner.” FRIDAY’s AI voice said. 

Bruce met him at the door, making his way out as quietly as possible. Steve looked anxious, standing with his hands on his hips as he waited for news. He hadn’t gotten a chance to find Bucky yet, his friend either working out or sleeping, and all he had managed so far was a quick debriefing and a shower. 

“I ran down as soon as FRIDAY called,” he said. “How is she?”

“Sleeping again. Just missed her.” Bruce said wryly. “Walk with me, I’m starving.” 

Steve fell into step beside him, heading towards the elevators. “Did she say anything?”

“She did. She seemed a bit out of it...couldn’t remember her name, hasn’t been awake since 1986.” He hit the UP button and stood back. “Seemed very interested in constellations, though. And Brooklyn.”

Steve stared at him. “Brooklyn?”

“Told her she was in New York, and the last thing she said before she fell asleep was something about Brooklyn.” Bruce shrugged. “Really interesting thing was her blood tests, though.”

“Blood tests?” Steve asked, stepping into the elevator and waiting for Bruce to join him before the doors closed again. 

“Definitely an omega.” Banner said as they headed up several floors. “Her scent is so muted because they pumped her full of enough suppressants to kill a normal person. Pretty sure that’s why she’s so tired...her body is working overtime trying to process such a high dose. I think it was just pooling in her system while she was in cryo, not really going anywhere, so now her kidneys are doing everything they can to—“

“Banner.” Steve interrupted before he had to listen to an entire scientific explanation. 

“Right. Sorry.” The scientist cleared his throat. “There was something else that I found already. She’s, uh…well, at some point, she was given super soldier serum.” 

Steve froze. “HYDRA gave the serum...to an omega?”

“It’s confusing to me, too,” Bruce put his hands up in defeat. “Thanks to that, though, it’s hard to determine how old she is, or who she is, without her telling us. All I know is that she’s an unmarked omega super soldier with a hell of a dose of heat suppressants to work through.”

“Any idea when she’ll be up again?” Steve asked as the elevator dinged to signal their arrival. 

“Hard to say.” Bruce said, following the alpha out towards the shared kitchen near the common area. 

“I need to get to the bottom of this, Banner. FRIDAY, will you find Bucky? I need you to tell him—“

“Tell him what?” A voice asked. 

Steve smiled in relief. Bucky was there, sitting on the couch with a plate of Alfredo balanced in his metal hand, looking mildly curious about whatever his friend was talking about. 

“Oh, good,” Steve said, approaching him, Banner following behind. “You’re already here.”

“What is it, Stevie?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, as you know, I visited an abandoned HYDRA base today.” 

“I’m aware.”

“And I found...something.”

“...something. What kind of something?”

Steve suddenly wasn’t sure how to describe his discovery. “Well, it’s a...not an it, I mean, I found a…”

“Rogers here brought back an omega test subject.” Bruce interrupted. “She’s down in the lab right now sleeping off some nasty meds.”

Bucky’s posture hadn’t changed, despite how awkward and almost nervous Steve had gotten. He leaned back against the cushions, slurping down a few noodles while he regarded his friend with a mild expression. 

“Alright, so?” He asked. 

“So...I was wondering if you had any idea what HYDRA was doing experimenting on an omega.” Steve said, hands on his hips in a stance that was supposed to say I mean business, so listen to me.

Bucky wasn’t bothered by it. He was the biggest, toughest alpha in the tower, aside from the rare occasions Thor was roughing it down on Midgard with the rest of them. The others could puff up and posture all they wanted at him, but it never had any effect. He was always calm and cool, generally disinterested in their displays. He knew he was stronger, and he didn’t need to prove it, especially not when he didn’t have an omega to fight over. 

He shrugged. “I want exactly privy to all their secrets. I know they kept cells full of omegas around for a while.”

“What did they do with them?” Steve asked.

“Whatever they wanted?” Bucky shook his head. “I really don’t know. If they were experimenting on ‘em, that never concerned me.”

“You’ve gotta know something, Buck.” Steve sounded exasperated. 

“Why do you care so much?” He asked. 

“Because something isn’t adding up.” Steve growled. 

“They gave this omega enough heat suppressants to last a lifetime,” Bruce said. “Her system is all kinds of messed up.”

“Makes sense.” Bucky ate another mouthful. “HYDRA wouldn’t want to deal with hormones going crazy or any unplanned pups.”

Steve stared down at his friend. “Did they let you rut?”

“Stevie, at least take me out to dinner before you start asking about my sex life fifty years ago.” Bucky said dryly. 

Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“...yeah. They did. Think they couldn’t stop my ruts.” He relented. 

“So did they...you know…” Steve trailed off awkwardly. 

“Were you ever given omegas to get you through them?” Bruce asked, proving once again how much more capable of having this conversation he was than Steve. 

Bucky finally had to glance away from them in embarrassment. “Well…yeah. But I, uh...the Soldier, he would just kind of...well, they didn’t really last long, if you uh. Catch my drift.”

Steve paled. 

Bruce gulped. 

“...what? Look, I’m better now, I’m way past that. Besides, I never meant to hurt anyone, I wasn’t myself—“

“This omega is a super soldier.” Bruce said quietly.

Bucky’s face dropped, a flicker of something passing over his face. “...what?”

—

“Finally,” Bruce sighed happily, inhaling the smell of leftover pizza. 

“Bucky, does the number 1096 mean anything to you?” Steve asked. He was sitting in a chair across from his friend, Bruce sitting at the kitchen island while he ate his dinner. 

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t remember any numbers like that. They mostly just called ‘em all omega.”

He was trying to seem cool and collected, but his scent had shifted slightly. Steve could catch just the slightest hint of distress in it, and as he did so, he narrowed his eyes. He may have been separated from Bucky for almost 80 years, but he was still his best friend, and he could tell when he was hiding something. 

“Why would they give the serum to an omega?” Steve asked. 

“Branching out?” Bucky shook his head. “Why do they do anything? They’re HYDRA. They can do whatever they want.”

“So you don’t remember anything about an omega super soldier?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky sniffed defensively. 

“Buck, it’s okay if you do.” Steve growled. “We’re not going to judge you for anything you did. We just want to help her and figure out who she is—“

“Well I don’t know,” Bucky snapped, big fangs bared in a warning. 

Steve responded with a low growl. 

“There’s a lot I don’t remember, or did you forget how many times they wiped my memory?” 

“Seems like you’re hiding something, Buck, and I wanna know what it is.”

“Why do you care? You should just drop it,” Bucky snarled. 

Steve regarded him carefully. Oh yeah. He was definitely hiding something. 

“Hey, hey,” Bruce interrupted from the kitchen, intent on stopping their fight before it could start. “Relax, fellas. Don’t make me get the big guy out to shut you both up.”

Steve backed down. The threat of having the Hulk going after him was enough. Bucky didn’t seem to share the sentiment, though, his lips still pulled back in a blatant display of aggression. It was the first time in a while that Steve had seen him acting so defensively about something, and it was concerning, to say the least. 

“Buck,” he said, voice low with warning. “Are you hiding something?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared angrily and the insinuation that he was keeping secrets, but he managed to reign himself back in, stifling another growl with a loud sigh. 

“I dunno, Steve.” He admitted. “There’s...a lot I don’t remember. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m not even sure why I’m feelin’ so worked up about this.”

Steve nodded. It was a relief to hear that Bucky wasn’t acting this way entirely on purpose, at least. 

“You feel okay?” Steve asked. “Not rutting soon, are you?”

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bucky snorted. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again. “Is the omega, uh...is she okay?”

“Physically, she doesn’t seem to be too worse for wear,” Bruce said from the kitchen. “The only abnormalities I found in our preliminary blood tests were evidence of the suppressants and the serum. Other than being exhausted and needing to adjust to consciousness again after decades of cryo, she’s fine.”

“Good.” Bucky said, a little too quickly. “I mean...that’s good.”

“She should be awake again by tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be up for a longer chat then.” 

“You comfortable talking with her?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky. “It might be good for her to see someone else who used to be connected to HYDRA. Might help her ease into everything.”

Bucky gave a nod, already distracted by thoughts of this omega. Was it possible that the girl he saw in his dreams was real? It was hard for him to know what had actually happened to him and what he had imagined, what with HYDRA wiping his memory whenever they felt like it. Ever since he had gained his mental freedom, though, he had been plagued with nightmares, his sleep always filled with the faces of people he had killed. 

As time went on, they were getting better, but they never really stopped. He just...didn’t always have to deal with the worst ones. Sometimes, he even got to have dreams that were...nice. Sometimes, he dreamt of a familiar scent, one he couldn’t really place and that he could never remember when he woke up. Sometimes, he dreamt of an omega, with long, dark hair, and the prettiest eyes he could ever imagine. He always saw her in flashes, a smile here, a sigh there, and with no idea as to who she was or where she came from, he had chalked it up to his mind trying to give him some relief from the nightmares. It had to be wishful thinking, and nothing more. 

Unless it wasn’t. 

He spent a while chatting with Steve and Bruce before retreating to his apartment. With Tony and Pepper gone for the night, spending it in some fancy hotel so that Stark could give a talk at some expo, and most of the others resting after missions, the tower was quiet. It left Bucky too much time to wander and think, and before he knew it, he was making a detour down to Banner’s lab. 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he paused. What was he hoping to accomplish, exactly? He didn’t have the kind of clearance that Bruce did. He wouldn’t be able to sneak in, and even if he could, what would he do? Appearing at her bedside would just freak the poor omega out, and that wasn’t the kind of first impression he liked to leave these days. 

He shook his head, pressing the button for his floor and leaning back against the elevator wall. He needed to be patient. Tomorrow, when she woke up, he would be able to see her for himself and decide if his weird dreams had any truth to them. 

Not that he was getting his hopes up. He shouldn’t, after all. He would just set himself up for disappointment. 

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, though, the tiniest, faintest hint of a scent wafted in, and Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew it. He knew that scent, or at least...he used to know it. Somewhere, in a part of his mind that he tried to forget about, he had memories of a peaceful, starry night sky, a hint of pine, and a touch of cinnamon. 

Then, the doors closed, and it was gone again, leaving him confused as the elevator rushed upwards.

[beepboop358]

Victor Creel Theories

(also includes ST movie DNA series: Star Wars)

Victor Creel is described as "a disturbed and intimidating man who is imprisoned in a psychiatric hospital for a gruesome murder in the 1950s." We know he will be institutionalized at Penthurst mental hospital, where Peter Ballard works, based on leaked on set pics.

There a few possibilities regarding his character:

He could be a former test subject with some kind of powers and a connection to the upside down (which would also follow the even/odd season pattern of a main character being directly involved with the upside down creatures) I think it's highly likely that Victor Creel will be involved with the mystery/danger in Hawkins in some way, and have a connection to the upside down. He could also be disturbed on top of this, and he could be involved in Eleven's storyline this season.

That he is not a test subject and is ONLY mentally disturbed.

He may be related to one of the already established characters. Most likely Joyce, and maybe Terry but it's a stretch.

Before I go any further into that last possibility, I just want to preface that this idea of an "evil father/grandfather with powers" could be a purposeful Star Wars parallel. The Duffer brothers have already paralleled and used Star Wars references a few times in the show:

In Star Wars, Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father, and Palpatine is Rey's grandfather (aka the literal worst guy in the universe). A common theme in ST is abusive/bad fathers - that post here. Interesting...

Palpatine is also Anakin Skywalker's father, so Luke and Leia are both the grandkids of Palpatine as well as Rey is, but it's unclear if they are just force midichlorian related or actually dna related as well but I won't get into that here!

Luke and Rey are both force sensitive (have powers), so are Darth Vader and Palpatine; their descendants (kid/grandkid) have powers, and so do they (father/grandfather) The descendants use their powers for good, while the ancestors use their power for evil. Who has powers in ST? Eleven and Will - and they both already have this idea of abusive/bad/evil fathers: Will has an abusive father Lonnie, and Eleven has an abusive father figure Dr. Brenner "Papa".

So... Victor Creel being the evil/bad grandfather to either Eleven or Will and the evil/bad father to Joyce or Terry, would make a FULL Star Wars parallel to people who are morally good and have powers (Will and El - Luke and Rey), discovering they are the descendant of an evil male figure who also has powers (Victor Creel - Darth Vader and Palpatine)

If Victor Creel turns out to be the father of anyone in the show my bets are it's either Joyce Byers or maybeee Terry Ives.

If he was a test subject, its likely he went "crazy" with some of his powers and the government couldn't cover it up so they declare him mentally insane to get him committed, and he probably goes insane being locked away as well. Personally, I think he may be 001 or an early test subject, when they were still working out the kinks of the program, and I think he does have a big connection to the upside down.

The Duffer Brother's on s4: "In Hawkins a new horror is beginning to surface, something long buried, something that connects everything"....

Now let's get into the possibilities for Creel's storyline/who he could be related to (split into 3 parts).

Part 1: Creel could be Joyce's father

Based on Victor Creel's description as "disturbed" and that he is "in a psychiatric hospital", it could connect him to Joyce's bloodline.

There are several comments in the show hinting to this idea of mental instability in Joyce's family:

s1 ep.5: When Lonnie comes to visit in s1 after Will goes missing, Joyce says to Lonnie "No, don't look at me like that, like how everyone is looking at me, like I'm out of my damn mind" He responds saying "I think you need to consider the possibility that this is all in your head. Remember your Aunt Darlene?" Joyce quickly replies, "No, this is not that."

That conversation, although quick, is very telling. Lonnie is implying that Joyce had an aunt who was mentally unstable - and Joyce clearly knows about her aunt being unstable because she responds to his comment by saying what's she's experiencing is not that (the mental instability of her aunt)

s2 ep.2: Joyce says to Bob, "this is not a normal family", when he suggest moving out of Hawkins.

I used to think Joyce was always was referring to the whole 'my son got stuck in an alternate dimension with supernatural monsters and is now traumatized, and we were sworn to secrecy by the government' thing but maybe she is also referring to her biological family.

s1 ep.2: When they are searching for Will, one of the other police officers, says "Joyce is one step from the edge" and the other officer responds "She has been several steps for quite a while now".

If Joyce is related to Victor Creel biologically, and he did also happen to be a test subject, has powers, or has some other relation to the upside down, this could possibly have contributed to whatever kind of abilities Will has, because he would be a descendant of Creel. But Joyce does not seem to have any powers and neither does Jonathan. If they were related to Creel, it's odd that they both didn't get powers, but Will did. I've always thought Will was born with his powers, like El.

We know almost nothing about Joyce's past, it's never discussed in the slightest in the show, which I feel like is purposeful. We don't know Joyce's maiden name; she doesn't change it back after she and Lonnie divorce. Maybe the Duffers are saving Joyce's backstory for s4 (and possibly s5), like I think they are doing with Will and El's connection. Will, El, Hopper, and Joyce were pictured in a series of 4 tweets posted by the stranger writers, hinting to the main 4 storylines for season 4. My analyzation of this tweet here.

I think it's possible that Joyce's storyline this season could also have to do with her past- not just her searching for Hopper- but also more personal information about her. Perhaps we will see flashbacks of younger Joyce and maybe learn about her biological relatives.

Noah also said this would be the darkest season for Will, so this idea of being the grandkid of someone evil or disturbed could fit into that.

Part 2: Creel could be Terry's father/Eleven's grandfather

The only other person I could see potentially having a biological; relation to Victor Creel could be Terry Ives and Eleven, (because it would complete the Star Wars parallel mentioned earlier) but it's a stretch for several reasons, the main one being that Terry and Becky's father Bill Ives, died in a car crash (year unknown).

So for Victor Creel to be Terry's father that either has to be:

Her adoptive father OR

Her mother cheated and led Mr. Ives to believe Terry was his kid but her father is really Victor Creel, and Becky is actually Bill Ives son (which would explain why Becky has no powers)

Right of the bat it's interesting Terry's father's name is Bill. Bill is a nickname for William (Will Byers full name is William), and Billy's a nickname also for William... Hmmm....

Immediately after El is born, Terry is adamant that Brenner stole her child to use as a weapon to fight the commies BECAUSE SHE HAD SPECIAL ABILITIES - and she's completely right about everything. How does Terry know El had powers immediately after she was born? Because she knows she has developed some kind of special abilities from the experiments as well. When El goes to visit her mother in s2, THE LIGHTS FLICKER, just like they do when the upside down is near, but it's not Eleven controlling it. Her Aunt Becky says it's just the wiring, and Eleven responds: "IT'S MAMA. She wants to talk." And then we see Terry's NOSE BLEED, just like El's does when she uses her powers.

Quick side note about El's biological father is Andrew Rich: (It's revealed in the canon novel Suspicious Minds that Andrew Rich is El's father) He was a college student who got expelled from school due to protesting the Nixon address, making him eligible to be drafted in the Vietnam war, and he died in battle. Terry was involved in the Project MKUltra experiments at Hawkins National Laboratory in College, under the direction of Dr. Martin Brenner, but didn't know she was pregnant at the time. Andrew never even knew Terry was pregnant, meaning she was extremely early on in her pregancy at the time he was sent away, not even Terry was aware yet. It's also stated in this book that BRENNER HAD A HAND IN GETTING ANDREW EXPELLED SO HE COULD SEND ANDREW AWAY. The novel states that Brenner has Andrew drafted because he wants to SCARE Terry, to show her how much power he has over her life. There's definitely some history between Terry and Brenner that we don't know about yet.

If Victor Creel is in fact Joyce's father it's interesting that the powers seem to have skipped a generation with Joyce, and also one kid with the Byers, but if Victor Creel is Terry's father, no generations were skipped in passing down powers. ANYWAYS, this is all just theories and speculation since we have no actual concrete reasons to believe he will be related to Joyce or Terry.

Part 3: The possibility that Creel could be involved in Eleven's storyline this season does not rely on them being biologically related.

**One of the filming locations for this season is the Claremont House, which is RUMORED to be Creel's house and also "Vecna's lair" the new monster for s4 (unconfirmed) This is the house the Hawkins group goes into in the ST4 sneak peek, where they see the grandfather clock striking midnight. If that's true, there's a connection between Creel and the upside down and having powers, which could connect Creel to Eleven. The Duffers: "In Hawkins a new horror is beginning to surface, something long buried, something that connects everything". This thing "that connects everything", could be Creel's storyline (his possible connection to the lab/upside down/person in the show), because Creel's storyline also spans all the way back to the 1950's and before that, so there's our "long buried" part most likely.

Robert Englund recently revealed in *an interview* that his character Victor Creel gouges his eyes out, making him unable to see. Englund also mentions what it's like working with Millie Bobby Brown and talks about the first time her met her, he doesn't mention any other cast members in detail like he does Millie.

He's clearly working closely with Millie's character Eleven.

But why? I think Creel could be involved with Eleven getting her powers back, and her reliving her past. Once the government baddies realize El has no powers, they're gonna want them back. If Creel was in fact a test subject, maybe there is some kind of connection between them, Such as Eleven revisiting what happened to her in her past and how that could relate to her getting her powers back.

Another thought I had was that perhaps the gruesome murder he committed is somehow related to something that ends up impacting in Eleven's life.

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

Whatever Victor Creel's storyline is, it will be an important one, and it will carry somewhat into s5, since he will be a returning character. He is not signed as a series regular, but as a recurring character, which means we don't really know to what capacity he will be in s5. It could be flashbacks mostly, or he could have just as big or small of a role.

Source: indie wire

That detail about eyes being gouged out reminds me of fear street 1666 when the townsmen who was sacrificed to the devil becomes possessed and gouges the kids eyes out. Leigh Janick, director of fear street, is married to Ross Duffer. They both direct and make horror/sci-fi themed series about kids in a small town set in the 80's, who fight supernatural evil with a heavy undertone of queer themes, that are even filmed in a lot of the same locations (the mall, the town streets, etc.) I'm not saying it's the same thing, it definitely won't be. But there's so many similarities between ST and Fear Street, I thought I would mention this as another.

[hangrypa]

s/p first year as a PA

I was hired as a hospitalist primarily for the transplant service. However, in the setting of the pandemic and staffing shortages, I am all over the place now and work in almost everything non-pediatric and non-surgical. 

In my first few months as a PA, I was incredibly overwhelmed. I went from being a learner who switches specialties every month to a fully-fledged provider making life-or-death decisions on an hourly basis. Oftentimes I’d find myself in the room of a patient actively crumping, surrounded by the patient’s family and multiple nurses awaiting instructions on what to do to save the patient. I thought that I faced a lot of pressure in school, but it was nothing compared to this. 

And just when I started to get a hang of it all, the pandemic hit. What a nightmare. As mentioned above, I was hired to work with with transplant patients. Prior to the pandemic, my transplant colleagues and I were masking and gowning for almost every patient: 1 surgical mask and 1 gown per patient and per patient encounter. But once COVID hit, we were rationing PPE. 1 N95, 1 pair of goggles, and 1 face shield for the pandemic. 1 surgical mask per week, and 1 gown only if a patient had Cdiff or a history of MDRO bacteremia.

What did the pandemic mean for our transplant patients? 

Our patients are on immunosuppressant medications to prevent transplant rejection. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult for them to fight infections. 

Our department did what it could to prevent COVID. We'd test patients on admission for COVID, regardless of symptoms or exposure history. If they were positive, they went to the COVID team and quarantined on their unit for a period of time and had to test negative before returning to our unit and being transplanted. We took many other measures to reduce COVID risk to the best of our ability. 

People still died. To see someone get transplanted successfully and then die of a virus is horrifying. Unfortunately, despite our admission tests, sometimes patients contracted COVID within the hospital. Patients would be happily FaceTiming their family one moment, telling them all of their plans for once they were discharged- then the next day they'd be intubated. We tried Remdesivir, Dexamethasone, prone positioning, etc. But the virus moved through them quickly, and these efforts often were too late. No amount of hoping and praying brought them back. 

As a first year PA, I learned to go to an empty conference room, close the door, and remove my mask before calling to the family of the deceased. This way, as they gathered around the phone in their homes, the family could hear me unmuffled as I delivered the news. Also, this way my tears didn't ruin my mask for the rest of the week. 

I learned a lot this year. It's been a mixture of crying and laughing. There are times that I question why I ever became a PA, and then there are times when this career feels like home. In addition to transplant, I’ve also been working in the  ED, IMC, ICU, inpatient hospice, clinic, and infusion center these past 6 months. I’ve learned quite a lot along the way.

Lessons learned as a first year PA:

1. Check your pager hourly: This is in addition to checking it whenever you get paged. Sometimes I’ll get paged while I’m rounding, read it, and then forget about it. Now I go through my pager at every hour to ensure that I already responded to all my pages and then answer ones that I missed/forgot.  On a semi-related note, a while back I wrote about good paging etiquette.

2. Let people know when you're out: I work a rotating schedule. As a result, it’s hard to predict when I’m in or out of the hospital. Sometimes I’ll come back on service and find urgent emails or texts that are a few days old. Now I leave an away message with my return date and my supervisor’s contact information on both email and hospital text. If someone really needs to get a hold of me, my supervisor has my personal cell phone number.

3. Be conscientious of what time you consult: I generally try to get all of my nonurgent consults done before 3pm. Many services have only 1 resident covering after 3pm, so I try not to page/call unless I have an emergency. 

4. Call the nurse if something needs to be done urgently: Being a nurse means being the ultimate multitasker. Room 5 is due for his IV Amphotericin, Room 2's Foley is supposed to come out prior to void trial with Urology, Room 1's infusion completed and is beeping, and Room 4 is a bit altered and yanked out her PICC. Now I’m placing an order for Room 3 to get IV Lasix due to concern for pulmonary edema. However, the nurse may be preoccupied with Room 4 and not see the order in the computer for some time. If I really need to the patient to get the Lasix right way, I’ll place the order through EMR and then call the nurse and see what their situation is. If they’re crazy busy with Room 4 and likely to be unable to get to the Lasix within the next 15min, I ask whether they’re okay with me asking another nurse to give the Lasix now. Usually the answer is yes.

5. Value your nurses: Nurses know the patient best. They’re the ones answering call bells, giving meds, doing dressing changes, etc. Unfortunately they oftentimes bear the brunt of everyone’s frustrations, from patients to patients’ families to attendings to managers. Not to mention, they’re the ones doing the dirty work. Bedside nurses are the heartbeat of healthcare, but they also are high risk for burnout. Always support your nurses, whether that’s volunteering to answer a patient’s family member’s 17th phone call of the day or responding to a patient’s call bell yourself. 

6. Know how to get a hold of someone quickly: It’s less than ideal to page someone repeatedly. At my hospital, if I need to talk to an attending urgently, I call the operator and ask them to connect me directly to the attending’s cell phone. If a patient is crashing and we’re not in the ICU, I dial the emergency number and call a rapid response, which sends people running into my patient’s room. 

7. Plan your discharge meds from Day 1: The goal of every admission is to treat the patient and then discharge them safely. Send medications early for prior auth and call the pharmacy to make sure that they have medications in stock. (One time a patient’s insurance didn’t cover Levofloxacin, of all things.) 

8. Keep social work and care coordination aware of all needs from the start: Does your patient looks unsteady? Place a PT/OT consult and let social work and care coordination know that the patient might require home therapy services and/or DME so that they can start looking at services and companies that may be covered by insurance. Does your patient have a central line? They’ll likely need a home health service to teach them how to care for it daily at home. Do they seem to require frequent transfusions? They’ll probably need labs on discharge. Is the patient’s living situation safe (no heat/AC, possible abuse at home, financial difficulties, etc)? They may need alternative housing.

9. The attending is not always right: Generally speaking, the attending has the last say on how the team manages a patient. However, I’ve come across situations in which an attending’s decision put a patient in more danger. Sometimes asking them about their decision can help steer the care plan toward better patient care. Other times you just have to stand your ground and be okay with being on the receiving end of an attending’s misdirected rant. Report these instances to your manager and to other higher-ups.

10. Always have gloves in your pocket: You never know when you’ll find a mess. Or which part of the body someone asks you to examine. Or how hygienic a person is (or is not).

11. Verify weird vitals: I was very new when I walked into work, opened a patient’s chart, and promptly bolted down the hallway when I saw a patient’s O2 sats recorded as 15-20s. I found the patient sitting up in bed, eating breakfast, and bewildered by me bursting into the room. Turns out that overnight someone mistakenly recorded his respirations as the O2 sats.

12. Remove whatever tubes you can: Anything entering the body is an infection risk. Does your patient still need that Foley placed by the surgery team? No? Yank it (don’t actually yank because ouch). Is your patient A&O and able to eat without aspirating? Remove the NG tube. Does your patient have good veins and require infrequent transfusions/labwork? Pull their central line.

13. Take a buddy with you to emergencies: Two heads are better than one. Even if you’re a seasoned provider and well-equipped to manage an emergency, you might need another body to help with performing CPR, making urgent calls, grabbing supplies, etc. 

14. Ask your patients about premeds for procedures: We all have different levels of pain tolerance. A procedure goes far more smoothly if your patient is comfortable. Note: if you’re going to premed with Ativan or an opiate in the outpatient setting, make sure they have a driver.

15. Be good to your charge nurse and unit secretary: I don’t know how they do it. If I had to manage the unit’s signout, patient complaints, calls from other floor, being yelled at by providers, verifying paper orders, and finding beds for incoming patients- all at the same time - I’d lose my mind. 

16. If your patient is mad, just shut up and listen: There are many things that you can’t control: the time it takes for a patient to get a room, the temperature of hospital food, the dismissive attitude of your attending, etc. And oftentimes the patient knows this. My reflex is to want to apologize for things and overexplain why different things are happening. But sometimes the patient just needs to rant. Take a step back and just listen. That can make all the difference.

17. Fact check your notes: The framework for your progress note often is the note from the day prior. It sounds obvious, but make sure that you go through the note and make updates and changes accordingly. If today is 01/15, there’s a good chance that the Fungitell from 12/31 is not still pending. 

18. Try to learn some nursing skills: This is one of the areas in which I most envy my NP colleagues. If a patient’s IV pump is beeping or their central line need to be flushed, I oftentimes awkwardly step out of the room and look vacantly into the distance for a nurse. I’ve finally figured out how to spike a bag (albeit I do so very slowly, and it certainly makes the RNs giggle some). I talked to our unit’s nurse manager, and she’s willing for me to learn some nursing skills from the staff during a slow day- we’ll see when thing slow down!

19. Be kind: Generally speaking, being in a hospital is stressful. Patients are feeling out of sorts, and staff are working with constant dinging in the background. I rant plenty on this website, but I’m kind to everyone at work (with few exceptions) because it makes things more comfortable for everyone. Additionally, if you are always kind to your patients and colleagues, your reputation will speak for itself. One time I was walking down a hall with poor reception while on my ASCOM with a notoriously standoffish nurse from another unit. My phone cut out. She called my unit’s nurse manager to complain, and the nurse manager told her that I would never hang up on purpose. My interactions with the nurse going forward were always more pleasant in nature.

20. Support your team: The best colleagues are not the smartest colleagues; the best coworkers are the ones who have your back. Whether it’s a medical emergency or just a strange situation, it’s important to be supported and to give support.

I know that I’ve learned a lot more than this, so I’ll likely be adding to this throughout the year. Happy Snow Day, all!

[thesaltyoncologist]

Oh man. Just beware that I have some embarrassingly strong opinions on medical notes. I was (and still am) one obsessive motherfucker when it concerns patients under my care... probably, at times, at the expense of my mental health. So...

We’ll start with your general hospital H&P

As a medical student, however your attending wanted your note written was always the correct answer. That applies to a lesser degree during residency. You’ll generally figure out the people who have strong opinions because, without fail, they will tell you. In those situations, again, the correct answer is whatever your attending says is correct is correct. 

The biggest tip I can give is to develop a mental template for everything. I wrote every H&P during residency in a very specific format. It had a couple of advantages: (1) I never left something important out, and (2) it sped up my ability to churn out H&Ps. Now that template had slight variations depending on which service I was on because, as you probably already have realized, different things are important to different subspecialties. In the beginning, it may be near impossible to put together a mental template just because you’re still learning to differentiate the signal from the noise. Everyone is. I will say that my notes now, as an April first year fellow, are much better and more succinct than my notes were as a July first year fellow. That is perfectly ok to adapt things as you learn more and more. So my basic template for a hospital admission was this:

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

HISTORY OF PRESENT ILLNESS

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

A minimalistic one-liner that should tell you, in broad strokes, what you need to know to start formulating a differential diagnosis. 

Mr. Smith is a 58 YOM with PMHx significant for [only RELEVANT co-morbidities] who presented by ambulance to the ED for shortness of breath of three days duration.

Next, this is where you break out your mnemonic of choice to describe the patient’s chief complaint. Was onset acute vs slowly progressive? What was his baseline respiratory status and how does it compare to now? Is it continuous or does it only happen when he’s moving? Does he have any pertinent associated symptoms? What makes his sob better or worse? Has this happened to him before? Pertinent negatives to rule out other possible causes of the patient’s chief complaints.

Patient reports his shortness of breath started two days ago and has slowly worsened. At baseline, he is able to ambulate without limitation but is now having difficultly walking more than from room-to-room in his home. While he initially only had symptoms with exertion, he now has symptoms at rest. Sitting in an upright position improves his shortness of breath and lying flat worsens his symptoms. He endorses worsening orthopnea, PND, and lower extremity edema. No fevers, chills, localized symptoms of infection, or sick contacts. No associated cough. No chest pain or anginal equivalents. No personal or family history of blood clots. Reports he was hospitalized two years ago for similar symptoms that required IV diuretics.

Next, I went into the objectives obtained in the ED. What were the patient’s vitals on presentation? What pertinent abnormalities were noted on labs? Imaging? If there were any consults, what was recommended? What treatment was provided in the ED?

In the ED, patient was afebrile, normotensive, but tachycardic to the 120s and initially satting 85% on room air. He was placed on 4L supplemental O2 with improvement. Labs were significant for acute on chronic elevated creatinine, a minimally elevated troponin, and severely elevated BNP. EKG showed sinus tachycardia. CXR showed bilateral pulmonary edema. Cardiology was consulted in the ED and felt his elevated troponin was due to demand ischemia rather than true ACS. Patient received 80 mg IV lasix and was admitted to the gen med service for further care.

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

ASSESSMENT

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

Now a few lines that succinctly presents the case, from beginning to planned end. My goal was always to present a quick overview of the patient’s treatment course.

Mr. Smith is a 58 YOM with NSTEMI s/p DES to the LAD and HFrEF 2/2 ischemic cardiomyopathy who presented to the ED with shortness of breath with a new oxygen requirement and was found to have a HFrEF exacerbation. Treatment course was complicated by a brief transfer to the step-down unit for BIPAP support following admission. He has since been treated with aggressive IV diuresis with improved respiratory status and was transferred back to the floor. He is now maintaining appropriate oxygen saturations on room air. Plan for discharge in 2-3 days following conversion to PO lasix. 

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

PLAN

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

These are pretty straightforward. I usually presented off of this part of my note and included things that helped me keep track of my patient’s pertinent history and recent results. For this guy, that would mean knowing this guy’s last EF by echo and when his PCI was performed. 

#Acute hypoxic respiratory failure 2/2 HFrEF exacerbation.

-Presented to ED with shortness of breath and new O2 requirement

-Hx of NSTEMI s/p DES to the LAD in Oct 2018

-Baseline EKG with sinus tachycardia. No change compared to prior.

-Last echo in Jan 2019 with EF = 30%; echo 4/8/20 showed EF 15% and WMA of the left apex

-Dry weight 70 kg; patient currently above dry weight at 78 kg

PLAN

-Lasix 40 mg IV; goal net negative 1L

-Follow-up on BID BMP; replete lytes as needed

-Arrange outpatient visit with heart failure clinic

If anyone is interested, especially the new ‘terns or med studs, I can do some additional posts on note writing tips. Outpatient notes are also definitely a completely different ballgame and thus approach. 

[hiirunakaarchive]

– to act in haste (3)

↳ Facts could never be disputed, but natural and insensible phenomenons like fate were fickle and ever-changing. Ethan hoped that maybe the outcome of this god-awful situation he was in right now could be fickle and ever-changing too.

↳  (pt 1), (pt 2), (pt 4)

◇ pairing: ethan ramsey x mc (haruna sakurai)

◇ genre: like 99.9% angst, 0.1% comedy (?) i hope that part of the story was funny man idk

◇ word count: 4.6k+

◇ tags: @aworldoffandoms, @perriewinklenerdie, @jooous​, @senseofduties​, @moteestro​, @anything-but-reality​

◇ author’s note: hey friends, i hope yall are staying safe and indoors during these strange times! classes have been moved online, so i’ve been writing and lo and behold –– part three to my series (which i finished a lot sooner that i expected :o) ! i was honestly writing this thinking it’d be the finale but the 10k word count was telling me smth else, so a FOURTH part is gonna be posted and THAT is gonna be the last one! also not to toot my own horn but i really, honestly, TRULY believe this third part is the best ive ever written, and i hope you guys like it as much as i do! like always, feedback is super appreciated and i’d be more than happy to add anyone to the tags! happy reading!

–

Dr. Ramsey was almost never wrong.

Almost.

And he hung on to that almost with a vice-like grip, that one in a million possibility that maybe this time, he could be wrong, and God, he had never wanted to be wrong so badly. But anyone with half a brain could put two and two together and figure out why his spiteful ex-lover stood in his office long after her shift had ended; white coat folded neatly and hugged against her chest with a sealed envelope at hand. Yet, despite knowing fully well what that letter being slid across his desk meant, he dared to challenge the inevitable truth. To let himself hope—

I could be wrong.

He took it in his hands carefully, and tore the envelope open.

Let it be wrong. Let it be wrong, let it be wrong, let it be-

”You’re resigning.”

He read it slowly and steadily, gathering himself with one long breath and the last sliver of calm he could find.

Over the course of the year, Haruna Sakurai had become some sort of a celebrity in Boston’s exclusive world of health care professionals, dubbed the perfect model to emulate in all aspects of being a doctor. She was as kind as she was intelligent, but unflinching in her righteous principles and a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

She was Edenbrook’s most valuable asset, yet the letter of resignation laying open on Ethan’s desk seemed to taunt him in ways that delved beyond a professional context. He regarded it hollowly, absorbing the great loss her departure would serve to the hospital, but also let his mind pathetically wander to the thought of where her resignation would leave the both of them.

It was silly and stupid, because they weren’t even romantically involved anymore. That tranquil period where they sat across from each other in comfortable silence, danced in his kitchen until they realized breakfast was burned, talked and laughed until they couldn’t breathe – it was such a distant memory that Ethan was convinced that it was nothing but a dream. 

It didn’t matter because she was slipping from him anyway.

“Losing you would be quite a blow to the hospital, Dr. Sakurai. Is there anything that would make you reconsider?” He had to be impartial. 

Convince her to stay. For the hospital, not for yourself, you selfish prick. No more of this lovesick nonsense.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and it was deplorable. The year Haruna spent on the fellowship had changed her. She stood taller, spoke louder, smiled wider, and Ethan convinced himself that losing her was a trivial price to pay for the success she so deserved. 

Haruna had grit her teeth and accepted his twisted gift, abandoning that whirlwind romance they had, and as compensation, acquired invaluable knowledge that no one could pry from her cold dead hands. She had so clearly moved on, thus, there was nothing left to do but for Ethan to make peace with it and follow suit. 

“I’m sorry, but my mind is set. It’s a...career move.”

Yet why did he still insist on making her stay?

“A career move? Dr. Sakurai, you do know that you’re employed at one of the best hospitals in the United States.” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and she rolled her eyes at his statement of the obvious.

“Of course I do, but our partnership with Panacea Labs has them trampling on every standard and principle that made Edenbrook one of the best in the first place.”

“I hate saying this as much as you hate hearing it, but that’s not something we can change.” Ethan sighed as he rubbed his temples. 

“I know, so I’m leaving before it disappoints me further.”

“Life in and of itself is a disappointment, Dr. Sakurai.” he argued. “We-“

“I’m going back to Japan.” She blurted.

Haruna bit her lip, bringing a hand to her face like it was a secret she meant to keep and just as suddenly as she said it, Ethan’s world stopped all at once. The clock that hung just above the entrance to his office stopped ticking. He saw Haruna’s lips moving as she continued to speak, but couldn’t hear a thing. Every joint in his body seemed to have froze and gone numb. Dead silence enveloped Dr. Ramsey to the deepest part of him that it could dig.

Dr. Sakurai’s confession rang in his ears like a siren, and Ethan wanted nothing more than to make it stop. The loss of what they had stung him to the point that he almost clutched at the imaginary ache of his chest, but despite that, he carried on. Seeing Haruna was never easy, but the dull sting at the sight of her served as a very real reminder that she wasn’t just a dream. That there once existed a period where Ethan loved a woman so much that he was no longer himself. She was real and tangible, and as long as she remained so, Ethan fooled himself into thinking he had a chance and the luxury of time in fixing what seemed to be irreparable.

You can’t fix this anymore. 

That cruel realization slapped him back to reality.

“-y parents are encouraging me to come home and work in their hospital. I’m hoping that it can offer me new and invaluable insight– Dr. Ramsey are you listening?”

Ethan lifted his gaze from the envelope on his desk and met her eyes. He stood from his office chair and planted his hands on the surface of the table, leaning forward.

“I’m listening. And what insight, pray tell, can the Sakurai Medical Centre give you that Edenbrook can’t?”

The tone of his voice adopted a subtle bitterness to which Haruna raised a brow. She uncrossed her arms, imitating Ethan’s pose and setting one hand parallel to his on top of his desk.

“It’s a new experience.” She responded impatiently, “A more challenging setting.”

“In the hospital that your parents own? How could that setting ever challenge you the same way we do here?” He continued to prod.

“In ways you couldn’t possibly hope to understand. Are we done here?”

“Not until you tell me the real reason why you’re resigning, Dr. Sakurai. You’ve made a name for yourself in this city, you’ve accomplished what thousands of doctors wished they could at your age. How could you leave that all behind?”

Here they were again, arguing, God, they were always arguing. Both of them were far too proud and far too stubborn to swallow their pride and back down. The only thing that seemed like a capable reminder to keep things civil was the mahogany desk that kept them mere inches apart. 

She placed a hand on her hip and leaned closer across the table.

“I think you’re taking things too personally, Dr. Ramsey.” Haruna accused.

She was close. Too close, and Ethan swallowed hard and realized he could never win against her.

He looked away, in denial. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Haruna scoffed.

“Really? Then look at me and tell me that I got this far so early into my career because of my own hard work. Tell me that every doctor in Boston would know my name even if you didn’t use your position to land me that spot on the diagnostics team even though I was in fourth place. Face it, Dr. Ramsey, you don’t want me to leave because it means that everything you did was for nothing.” She spat.

Ethan threw his hands up in aggravation. “Sakurai, this isn’t about me, god damn it! This is about you compromising a perfect career that–”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” She yelled, her voice resonating across the room. 

The sudden raise in volume took Ethan by surprise, and he bit back a response as Haruna scowled in an attempt to calm herself.

“You have no idea what it’s like...walking into that room everyday with doctors like you, June and Baz, and knowing that I’m not even supposed to be there. I come in here and see you and am just reminded that every bit of success I have now is because you loved me. Too damn much, if you ask me.” 

“You want to know the worst part of it all?” She laughed despite herself. “Acting like I didn’t enjoy every minute of that fellowship, when the truth is that I relished in it. I spent this entire year resenting you yet basking in all this knowledge and these opportunities that you gave me. Then I’d come in the next day and hate you a little less than I did the day before. One day, I woke up and realized that I probably never even hated you at all. If anything, I was...grateful.” She cringed as she said it, then looked at Ethan with contempt.

For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t directed at him, but at herself.

“Do you get it? I can’t keep working here, because the mere sight of you is proof that I’m just as greedy and self-serving as bastards like Declan Nash, and I’d sooner die than become a doctor so disgusting. If I can’t bring myself to hate you, then...” She trailed off and looked away, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

The revelation was all too much for Ethan to process, and his mind was riddled with questions. For over a year, he’d wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares of how she regarded him with immeasurable animosity. Was she trying to tell him that, that too, was a facade? A tense muscle in Dr. Ramsey’s jaw relaxed as he asked her quietly,

“Are you running from me, Haruna?”

“If I am?”

They looked at each other in a moment that seemed to end all too quickly, and the weight and meaning of what she said dawned on the both of them. Her eyes widened at the proclamation she mistakenly let slip and Dr. Sakurai snatched her letter of resignation from Ethan’s desk, starting towards the door.

“Never mind. Forget it.”

For a moment, he considered listening to her. To let her go like he’d always done. Every time they spoke, she always ended up leaving anyway. Ethan persuaded himself into believing that she was better off without him, but–

You are never going to have another chance after this.

And he realized, that the moment he let her leave that room, everything would really be over. He’d have to live with the regret of never having taken that final opportunity to mend what they’d both thought was unmendable, or at least try to. Would she have also wished that he’d tried to stop her?

“Wait...I said wait!”

Ethan bolted towards the exit, and Haruna froze in her tracks as he slammed the door back shut as she was about to leave. Her back was to him and his arm remained situated on the wooden surface, inches from her head.

“I need to know, Dr. Sakurai,” He breathed,

“Do I still mean something to you?”

Ethan heard her sharp intake of breath, taken aback by his sudden inquiry. Cautiously, Haruna turned to face him and that calm air of hers that always seemed so natural now looked like nothing but a brittle front to hold herself together.

“You do.” She admitted.

“I still love you, Dr. Ramsey. So much. I’ve loved you all this time but I-“

Her breathed hitched, and like a dam, she, and that distant and unbothered facade she was so adamant on maintaining, collapsed. Her cheeks were wet with tears and Ethan’s face fell as Haruna buried her face into her hands. He willed himself not to hold her.

She wouldn’t want you touching her. You don’t have the right. You don’t-

But against his better judgement he took her in his arms, and the solace he felt with the familiarity of this woman’s warmth, who seemed so small trapped against his chest, overwhelmed him with emotion. It had been so long since he last touched her, and both Ethan and Haruna knew that it may very well be the last. So he held her. He held her the way he wished he could have in the year that they didn’t speak. The way he should have held her from the start. And she let him.

He wasn’t sure if he could ever embrace anyone else the same way ever again.

“God, Ethan, where did we go wrong?” She sobbed.

He rested his chin gently on her head and didn’t respond, because he knew that nothing he could say in this predicament that they were in– no, that they’ve been in, would console her. Dr. Sakurai’s shoulders shook uncontrollably as she cried, and Ethan felt her go slack against him, holding her tighter as he lowered the both of them gently to the floor. 

***

She was in his arms for the next hour. Sixty minutes of pure silence, apart from her weeping, and Ethan could do nothing but comfort the woman. He looked up at the ceiling as Haruna sniffled, and couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself be so vulnerable in front of him.

“We can’t be together like this.” She finally spoke, her voice raspy from the crying.

“I-” Dr. Ramsey began, ready to argue. He knew better though, and sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I know.”

“Good. So you know that you have to let me leave, then.”

He stayed silent in an attempt to avoid the question. Of course he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. If he did, he’d be acknowledging that this was for the best; and more often than not, the right decision wasn’t always the easiest.

“Haruna, I...” He started in protest, but paused as he felt Dr. Sakurai’s hand slide up to rest on his cheek.

He looked down at her, and wondered if he was being too transparent. If she could see how broken he was at realizing the choice they both had to make. She sat up a little straighter, still in Ethan’s arms and rested her forehead against his. Then she asked him quietly. Pleadingly.

“Please, Ethan.”

How could he ever say no to her?

So he responded wordlessly, tilting his head and bringing his lips to hers. Haruna met him halfway, and a year and a half of fierce self-restraint and inexplicable pining for the feel of each other erupted all at once. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer by the nape of his neck. Ethan cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, softly at first, but every second that passed with her mouth on his summoned a tide of longing that he forced himself to keep latent all this time, and it only urged him to kiss her harder.

“I love you.” He groaned against her mouth. “God, I love you.”

She merely smiled at his reckless confession, holding him by the lapels of his coat until, Ethan, breathless, forced himself to pull away. He brought a finger below her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying and her hair was disheveled from the moment of passion they just shared, but Ethan couldn’t recall ever being in love with her more than he was in that moment. 

“Haruna, marry me.” 

Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked like she was going to say something in protest, but Ethan continued in order to validate his outrageous request.

“Not now.” He interjected. “You’re going to go to Japan, and become the best damn doctor they’ve ever seen. Your success will be your own, and no one will ever remember that you were ‘The’ Ethan Ramsey’s protege in the first place because you’ll become someone a hundred times better.” 

Dr. Ramsey pushed himself off the floor, and pulled Haruna up following that. Her eyes had begun to shine with tears again, dangerously close to falling, and Ethan held her face in his hands. He offered her a comforting smile, but he wasn’t certain if it was meant to reassure her, or to hide his own brokenness.

“Then, if these god damn stars ever choose to align for us and we see each other again, however long that might take, we’ll get married. Is that clear, Rookie?”

She laughed through the tears.

“Crystal, Dr. Ramsey.”

–– 

Dr. Haruna Sakurai departed for Japan the following week. No one knew of her resignation except for the diagnostics team, Naveen, and her closest friends from intern year, so Ethan remained unbothered at the gossip that rang through the hospital when one day, she had stopped coming to work and no one knew why. 

After that evening where he vociferated that almost childish marriage pact, Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Sakurai failed to have another chance to speak. He was busy with his own doctorly duties and Sakurai was preoccupied with tying up any loose ends before she left for good. They’d merely pass by each other in the halls and their interactions alternated between a subtle smile, a curt nod, or a discreet brush of the fingers.

When Haruna accepted his poor excuse of a proposal, Ethan thought he’d convinced himself that it was going to be alright. That things would turn out fine because they parted on good terms and with the knowledge that they’d made the right choice.

So he had to pretend, and to an extent he never did before.  

Pretend like he wasn’t heartbroken at the fact that she didn’t say goodbye. 

Pretend like he wasn’t just as surprised as everyone else when he came to work and didn’t hear the sound of her voice by the nurses’ station like he would everyday.

The feigning of indifference had embedded itself so deeply into his routine that Ethan believed it was real. He readopted his strictly objective nature, like how he used to be before he met her, and just like that, his world went numb and grey.  

“I’m worried for you, Ethan.” Naveen sighed as he sat across Ethan’s desk, genuine concern written all over his face.

Dr. Ramsey didn’t bother looking up as he flipped through applications for the year’s new batch of interns. “We have hundreds of patients to treat and a budget cut that still needs to be solved. I’m not who you should be worried about, Naveen.” He replied dryly.

“My shift ended twenty minutes ago, my boy,” Dr. Banerji chuckled. 

“I’m not here as administration, I’m here as your friend. Now tell me, why are you acting this way?”

"Acting what way?” Ethan quipped, setting down a folder to give his mentor his full attention. “I’m not any different from the last twelve years we’ve been working together.”

“Completely and wholly devoted to your job, I know. But in the past twelve years I’ve known you, you’ve never been so...” Naveen rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair as he pondered for the right word. “Anesthetized?”

Banerji eyed Ethan carefully, almost strictly. 

“You’ve always been a workaholic, Ethan, but never to the point that you neglected your own health. You’re a walking contradiction as a doctor.”

Ethan knew he was right. If there was anybody in the world that he could never win against in an argument, it was his mentor and his mentee. The three of them were an elite trifecta with a unique bond equipped with boundless knowledge, and Ethan swallowed hard as he remembered her for the first time in the four months since she left. 

After coming to terms with her resignation, Ethan thought that their parting satisfied him enough to live on happily and assured of their love for each other. But the following week of being deprived of her presence and being reminded he might never see her again made Dr. Ramsey realize that it was stupidly naive of him to think so. This was nothing like the two months he spent in the Amazon, because he didn’t have that certainty of her greeting him when he inevitably came back. He was unsure of whether the stars really would align for them like he suggested, but certain that he’d never love anyone the same way he loved her. 

He drowned himself in work and almost stopped coming home. The bags beneath his eyes had grown so much more prominent, and four months of this self-negligent lifestyle had aged him more than twelve years of working as a doctor of internal medicine ever could. Of course Banerji had been the first one to notice.

“She’s there everywhere I go, Naveen.” Ethan confessed, unable to keep it to himself any longer.  

“Can’t even leave this damn office and grab a coffee anymore. I ordered my usual roast at Derry’s, and you know what happened? The barista snuck me a free espresso Romano! Told me, ‘for the other pretty doctor,’ and I almost lost it.”

Dr. Banerji stared in disappointment at his own pupil’s oblivion. He had given him too many invaluable lessons to count, but the one thing he never succeeded in helping Ethan understand was the importance of subjectivity. That sometimes even the most logical and calculated decisions were no match against the fickle loyalties of the heart. 

“Answer me honestly, Ethan,” Naveen dropped all hints of playfulness. 

“Do you regret letting her leave?”

–– FIVE YEARS LATER

“Do you regret letting her leave?”

When Naveen asked that question, the answer popped into Ethan’s mind shamefully quick. Accompanied with that epiphany, his world, the one that went numb and grey, began to scream altogether. The imaginary pain that once pricked him frivolously like pins and needles hit him all at once and burst into flames. Shallow incisions made to his heart with every thought of her and what could have been, transitioned into relentless, deep cuts that came at a pace faster than he could heal. 

Over the course of five years, Ethan stopped trying to fight it and left his heart to be mangled by the regret.

“Yes, I regret it.” 

Today marked his seventeenth year of working at Edenbrook, and Dr. Ramsey had lost count of how many batches of interns had come and gone. He still thought about her occasionally, when he’d see her friends in the hospital or at midnight in bed and alone with his thoughts; but time had done a fairly adequate job of healing that wound. Five years in retrospect didn’t seem that long, but it was enough for Dr. Haruna Sakurai’s face to blur and drown into the deepest recesses of Ethan’s mind. 

“He’s so freaking fine, but I swear he doesn’t have eyes.”

Making his rounds, Ethan’s brows furrowed irritably at the interns he caught gossiping in the hall. He tucked his clipboard under his arm, more than ready to reprimand them until a calloused hand caught him by the shoulder.

“Shhh. I want to know what they’re saying about you.” Ethan turned his head just enough to see that it was Dr. Lahela.

He never expected to grow close with one of her brother-like figures, but him and the surgeon spent too much time together at the gym, and Ethan grew fond of the younger doctor more than he cared to admit.

“You know Dr. Tremaine? The pretty one with a sixteen thousand follower count on Instagram? She asked him to dinner and he just walked past her like he didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not turn down Dr. Tremaine.” Bryce covered his mouth with a hand, feigning shock and Ethan retorted almost immediately with his own dry humour. 

“I think you forget sometimes that the thought of your best friend still torments me.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They turned back towards the young doctors, so deep into their conversation that the two didn’t even bother hiding anymore. Ethan leaned against the wall patiently as Bryce cleaned his stethoscope with an alcohol wipe he dug out from his pocket.

“Dr. Castillo’s brother did his residency here too, and rumour has it that Dr. Ramsey actually had a fling with an intern from his batch a couple years back.”

“Shut up. She must’ve been so hot if she could make Dr. Ramsey budge.”

Ethan leaned over to Bryce, unsure of why he was even following his request of keeping silent.

“My ears are bleeding, Lahela.” He aggressively muttered under his breath.

“Wait, they’re getting to the good part. You know how I love hearing Haruna’s praises sung– wait, Dr. Ramsey!” The surgeon’s voice faded as Ethan ignored his plea, beginning his march towards the rumourmongering interns. 

“–Super hot, super smart, and super scary. Apparently she punched Declan Nash in the face once.”

“Shut up! Who is she?”

“You know the one from the last issue of Times? Like, total medical prodigy? Asia’s top doctor who-”

“–Turned her parents hospital into Japan’s top research facility, I know the whole deal. What about her?”

“So, like, she used to work at Edenbrook right? Apparently-”

“You two, interns!” Ethan barked down the hall.

“Dr. Ramsey!” And his terrifying approach was drowned out by Harper Emery’s own voice and the loud clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner.

Complete, utter fear settled into the young doctors’ eyes as they realized that they were in the company of Edenbrook’s most skilled and accomplished staff, one of whom they were gossiping about. Their gaze darted between a cool and collected Harper, and Ethan, who was very visibly seething, and found they could look nowhere else but the floor. 

Harper and Ethan rekindled their friendship following Aurora’s transfer to Mass Kenmore. Harper realized that she wanted the fellowship more for Aurora than she did for herself, and thanks to the younger Emery distancing herself from Edenbrook and her aunt’s legacy, the women were closer now than they’ve ever been before.

“We need to talk.” Harper demanded, despite being aware of the tension.

“It might have to wait, Dr. Emery, I’m in the middle of something important.”

Harper stepped towards him and spoke in a voice low enough that only Ethan could hear, her tone demanding his full attention.

“Dr. Ramsey.” Harper repeated, more firmly this time.

Ethan sensed the urgency in her voice, and looked between his friend and the interns. Exhaling once, he shot them one more infuriated look before turning back the way he came and following his colleague. Ethan eyed Dr. Lahela expectantly as him and Harper strolled past.

“You're up, scalpel jockey.” And Bryce smiled excitedly, closing his eyes and getting into character before storming down the hall.

“Coffee must be one hell of a drug if I’m seeing not one, but two interns chatting ‘til kingdom come while they’re still on the damn clock! Both of you, names!”

Harper failed at containing a smile. “You’re a horrible influence, Ethan.”

He shook his head, repressing his own laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That pupil of yours wouldn’t leave me alone until I showed him the ropes of...what did he call it, ah– oral persecution. So what was it that you wanted to tell me?” 

“You and Dr. Hirata will be in attendance for a medical conference in Kyoto as Edenbrook’s representatives.”

He nodded in response, continuing to look straight ahead as they walked. “Hmph, like always.”

“And Dr. Sakurai will be present as the keynote speaker.”

[cocktail-party-in-an-abattoir]

In Memoriam Herschel (2005-2021)

           It was the late summer/early autumn of 2005. I was 16 years old. I went to a friend’s house for a get-together with other friends. She lived in a more rural area, so stray cats were not uncommon. One of these strays had recently birthed a litter of kittens. They were corralled into a blocked-off area in my friend’s den. Naturally, we all gravitated towards the kittens. We spent a good while petting them, playing with them, holding them, and watching them with their mother. A particular kitten was a gray and white tabby. This kitten had made its way towards me and tried to crawl up one of my jean legs. I was wearing bootcut jeans, so it actually managed it. I was immediately drawn to this kitten, the idea of asking my parents if we could keep it already forming.

While my friends and I were playing with them, we decided to give them all smartass, noncommittal names. None of us could sex kittens, so that was reflected in the names we chose. I named the gray and white tabby (of which there were two, but I zeroed in on the jean leg kitten) “Herschel.” Why? Well, when I was eight or nine, I used to play House with friends. I had heard the name “Herschel” on some sitcom, and I liked the sound of it. So, I often named my fake son “Herschel.” This became an inside joke between my best friend and me.

            Back at home, I asked my mom if we could adopt the kitten. She had veto power. She was kind of hesitant at first but eventually relented. A few weeks later my friend and her mom brought the kitten over to my house. By that point I was already seriously referring to it as “Herschel.” We all just kind of assumed it was male. The first thing Herschel did after getting out of the carrying case was hide behind one of our bookcases and stayed there.

            We took Herschel to the vet. Upon examination the vet tech proclaimed he was, in fact, she. Her exact words were “You have a little girl!” For better or for worse, I was committed to “Herschel” (much to my mom’s chagrin), so from then on, I had a girl cat with a boy name. This led to years of various people (mostly veterinary staff) getting her sex wrong. I don’t know that I ever bothered correcting them because, well, they were going to find out the truth soon enough.

            Between 2005 and 2010, Herschel grew from a kitten with what my mom described as “Yoda ears” into a gorgeous young lady. She had the most beautiful green eyes. People always had nice things to say about her looks. She had an adorable bow-legged gait from the beginning. She grew into an affectionate little cuddle-bug once she adjusted to us. She was wary of strangers, which was probably for the best. She did not like to go outside as much as our older cat, Simba (RIP)—especially after being treed once—but she was a very skilled huntress. She even managed to get two hummingbirds. Obviously, I’m not a fan of such “presents,” but I couldn’t help but be impressed by her prowess.

            In 2007, we adopted 2 labs named Olive and Penny (RIP x2). 2010, we adopted two fluffy black kittens from our vet’s office. We named them Buttercup and Licorice (RIP x2). Herschel respected Simba because of his seniority, but she absolutely despised the other pets. She would growl and hiss at them on sight. Because of this, the dogs had to stay downstairs while the cats had free rein upstairs. By 2012, Buttercup had gone missing, and we had adopted two more animals: a cat named Kid Twist (“Twist” for short) and a blue heeler named Bleu. Herschel did not care for them either. That same year my parents moved one state over, and I moved to a nearby city to stay with a family friend. The Menagerie went with my parents.

            One day in 2013 or 2014 my mom commented about how Herschel hid under a guest room bed much of the time. She would only come out to do her business or eat. Since the dogs had free rein over the entire house, this meant there was no real “safe space” for Herschel. Thus, her reclusiveness. Mom was worried about her well-being. I offered to take Herschel under my wing. Mom agreed. Now, my housemate already had a few cats, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement over a house with dogs. Herschel had been under my care since.

            In 2015 Herschel moved with me into the apartment I currently live in. Despite my apartment’s smallness, she was finally the one cat in a one-cat home. I had stopped letting her out because a) my apartment complex is positively labyrinthine b) the complex is next to a busy highway, and c) I wanted her to live longer and not harm any wildlife (although her hunting days were behind her). She didn’t seem to mind. For the next few years, she was my kitty comrade. Aside from some dental issues and a heart murmur, she always had a clean bill of health. I honestly thought she was going to live as long as Simba had (18, almost 19) because he was also a spry geriatric cat.

            In late 2020, Herschel was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. She had been growing thinner and vomiting before I found out. I had to start giving her medication twice per day, but there was otherwise no change. She was still the empress I knew and loved, if a little slower. I thought that was going to be it. Then, earlier this year, the vet ran some more tests. While I had managed to lower her thyroid levels, the vet found another problem: chronic kidney disease. My blood ran cold upon hearing this because one of our pet labs, Olive, had died from kidney failure a few years prior. The vet told me while there was no cure, CKD could be managed with diet changes and medication. He was right, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with Herschel. She quickly went from stage 3 to stage 4 (4 being the end stage). I still kick myself about this because I feel like I could’ve found out sooner. Anyway, the vet suggested I should have Herschel hospitalized for a couple of days with IV fluids. The idea was to basically rehydrate her and then start a regimen of a new diet, supplements, and medication.

            So, I waited outside for three hours until a hospital staff member came to collect Herschel. It would’ve been longer, but my very kind vet called ahead. A couple of days later my mom and I returned to the hospital to wait for Herschel. It was March 25th, my birthday. One of the vets called me and stated despite the diuresis, Herschel’s stats remained the same. She stated I had probably 2 weeks left with her. I knew she was right, but I was still determined to try. I gave her daily cocktails of medication. I learned how to give her subcutaneous injections to hydrate her. I got the prescription wet food. At first, she had more okay days than bad, but it eventually became clear she was circling the drain. Treatment transformed into hospice care. I was going to do everything possible to keep her comfortable. By the end she was incontinent and no longer eating or drinking. Then she stopped being able to walk. I knew I had to make the final appointment. After a long crying session, I did.

            My mom came to help yesterday. Herschel was mostly immobile and out of it. Not even her favorite prosciutto roused her. I swaddled her in a changing pad and a blanket and slept with her next to me for one more night. She was still alive this morning if barely. Before we were set to go to her final appointment, I played her Sugarloaf’s “Green-Eyed Lady” (which will always remind me of her) and Audrey Hepburn’s version of “Moon River.” As my mom and I went to prepare her for the appointment, we realized how still she was. She did not appear to be breathing, and she did not react to anything we did. I took a flashlight to her pupils and… she was gone. She had died peacefully on my couch, which was one of her favorite spots to lounge. Honestly, I was relieved because the thought of taking her to a strange place to be euthanized frankly distressed me. I cuddled her ragdoll body from then until we were sitting in the vet office’s parking lot. Mom got a chance to hold her, too. A vet tech came out, used her stethoscope, and confirmed what we already knew. After a few more minutes with her we said our last goodbyes. I filled out paperwork confirming I wanted her ashes returned to me with a clay pawprint.

            I want Herschel’s ashes buried on my parents’ property with the others. Maybe a little farther away since she did not like most of them. I’m also looking into urn jewelry so I can carry her with me. This cat saw me at some of my lowest points, including when I was furloughed from my job last year. This cat was sweet and affectionate but also a pesky little shit. This cat was the first living being I was fully responsible for. She somehow managed to be regal while shoving her butthole into your face. If she liked you, she came and sat with you. If she didn’t, she hid behind the washing machine. I’m convinced she was part slug because even at her largest she was able to fit into confined spaces. I will miss her trilling meows. She was beautiful to the end, and I will always love her and miss her. I don’t know if there is an afterlife or not, but if there is, I hope she has endless king crab and prosciutto to snack on.

[mari-beau]

PSA: IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID & SEEK MEDICAL FOLLOW-UP, KNOW YOUR PATIENT RIGHTS TO REFUSE UNNECESSARY TESTS

ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE SUBJUGATED TO THE AMERICAN HEALTH SYSTEM

IF YOU HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT YOUR COVID RECOVERY, DO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION!! IT IS IMPORTANT. YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUS COMPLICATIONS.

BUT DESPITE ALL THE MOCKERY AND DERISION FROM THE MEDICAL FIELD, DO SOME RESEARCH YOURSELF (FROM LEGIT MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTION’S WEBSITES/SOURCES)

DOCTORS ARE JUST PEOPLE. AND A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE NOT THAT SMART. (AND YOUR DOCTOR IS NOT NECESSARILY SMARTER OR MORE CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE VIROLOGY AND BIOLOGY OF YOUR SITUATION THAN YOU ARE). QUESTION THINGS. MAKE THEM EXPLAIN AND JUSTIFY THEIR ACTIONS.

MAKE THEM LISTEN TO YOU!

MY STORY HAS BEEN PLACED BELOW A BREAK

Because TRIGGER WARNING for people with Hospital/Medical PTSD

I tested positive for COVID-19 well over a month ago. I got moderately sick. I did not need to be hospitalized (thankfully). And was able to manage it with cold medicine. It was in my lungs. I had a high fever that cycled on and off for days, cough, shortness of breath, fatigue. By day 11, I was recovered enough and deemed no longer infectious by Public Health’s certified nurses (who know and understand COVID guidance/pathology).

It still took me awhile to completely bounce back. And surprise-surprise, my work is extremely stressful (I work for a local Public Health Department, the ones tasked with doing all of the non-direct patient care pandemic work, such as case investigations, quarantining, helping the public, inspections, answering every single question of every single member of the public). So it was taking me longer to be at normal levels of health. And I was noticing I’d be fine for days, but when I started to get a little worn down from work, I’d start coughing again.

My coworkers were concerned and had one of our nurses encourage me to seek follow-up in case I had a secondary infection as a result of my COVID infection, such as bronchitis or pneumonia. I tried calling the practice where my doctor used to be (living in rural area, the doctors maybe last a year before leaving), but the receptionist said they had no providers until following Monday (I was calling on a Wednesday). She was also baffled by my spiel:

“I tested positive for COVID-19 on November 24. I was cleared by Public Health on Dec. 4. I feel fine most of the time, but when I get tired, I start coughing again. I would like to be checked out to make sure I don’t have bronchitis or pneumonia or lung damage.”

I’m not so sure what’s so difficult about that. I had to prompt her... Should I call back on Monday then to see if I can get checked out? 

My coworker used to be practice manager for that group of practices. And she was like WTF? and called over to confirm that they had no provider covering the practice through the New Year’s weekend. 

But to be honest, it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d gotten through to them, because come to find out, the whole “Health Systems” conglomerate in our region funnels anyone who has had COVID to the Main Hospital ER. My mother’s doctor, who she asked to follow up because she is older and had concerns about complications, was likewise sent to the “COVID unit” in the hospital, despite the fact that she was no longer infectious and in recovery.

Anyway, the nurse at work encouraged me to get checked out that day. So I called the Urgent Care. Again, the receptionist was baffled by my spiel. As was the nurse she had speak to me. The nurse informed me I had to go to the main hospital.

Fine. I thought. I’d just get my lungs checked out and get it over with. If I had a secondary infection, they could give me a steroid inhaler or stronger cough medicine or something. 

WRONG!

I show up to the Hospital, they funnel you through precautions (which is great). I give my spiel to the receptionist, adding on how I tried my primary care and urgent care, and they told me I had to come here. They give me to intake person, who asks me the standard questions and checks my vitals.

My heartrate is high.

I have panic attacks in hospitals. I can’t even visit people in the hospital. It’s not a conscious issue. And it’s completely outside of my control. I can attempt to manage with anxiety coping mechanisms, but to be honest it doesn’t work. 

I inform the intake nurse/doctor/whoever that my stress levels have been high from work, specifically Monday I was in the call center getting verbally abused by our wonderful community members all day long. And that I have panic attacks in hospitals. And was likely in early stages of panic attack. He replied to me that was on Monday and it’s Wednesday (someone who had no clue how anxiety works). And I of course sounded perfectly calm then, because part of how I cope is trying to keep my shit together and not freak out.

They admit me for having a high heart rate. (BECUASE DOCTORS DON”T LISTEN, ESPECIALLY TO WOMEN).

SO, SUMMARY SO FAR: I HAVE BEEN ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL FOR HAVING PANIC ATTACKS IN THE HOSPITAL WHEN I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO CHECK MY LUNGS.

They stick me in a negative pressure COVID room because I had COVID a month ago (and they don’t seem to understand I am no longer infectious, or how viruses work; yes, some people remain very sick and infectious longer; I meet all the criteria of no longer being infectious). 

I have to change into hospital gown, etc. Doctor checks my lungs. Everything sounds fine. My 02 stats are 100%. 

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN RELEASED AT THIS POINT. I SHOULD HAVE REFUSED ALL FURTHER PROCEDURES AND TESTS. BUT I HAVE HOSPITAL-INDUCED ANXIETY AND AM IN NO STATE OF MIND TO QUESTION ANYTHING BECAUSE I’M BARELY KEEPING MY SHIT TOGETHER. NO WONDER I’M FUCKING TACHYCARDIC.

Next up is the nurses, come to hook me up to the heart monitor and EKG. 

AND DO THE ONE OTHER THING THAT CAN SEND ME INTO A FULL ANXIETY ATTACK. 

They ignore me when I tell them they need to use a pediatric needle on my veins. All of my mom’s family has small, hard to find, fragile veins. THEY BLOW OUT TWO OF MY VEINS IN ONE ARM WHILE A LAB PERSON IS TRYING TO DRAW BLOOD OUT OF MY OTHER ARM. 

I AM FINE WITH VACCINES/SHOTS. AND IF THEY CAN GET A NEEDLE IN AND DRAW BLOOD QUICK, I CAN KEEP MY SHIT TOGETHER. I HAVE NO CONSCIOUS FEAR OF NEEDLES OR BLOOD. BUT IF THEY MESS AROUND WITH MY ARMS TOO LONG, IT SENDS ME INTO FULL HYPERVENTILATING, CRYING HYSTERICALLY, LEG THRASHING PANIC ATTACK.

ALL THE WHILE, I’M APOLOGIZING TO THEM. AND HATING MYSELF FOR MY REACTION. 

The nurse keeps trying to comfort me as she blows out another vein in my arm for an IV I DID NOT NEED. I keep saying “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid I get like this.” As I’m sobbing and hyperventilating. 

The nurse gives up after blowing out several veins in my arm when doing the saline wash. (This does not pardon me, but only buys me a reprieve). 

Lab Guy exits with some blood he managed to get out of one of my arms. 

I have been repeatedly questioned by doctors and nurses so far about having had another COVID test. I tell them no, since I can test positive for up to 3 months afterwards, it’s quite literally pointless.

THEY GIVE ME ANOTHER COVID TEST. 

My first one when I was actually sick, was just mildly uncomfortable. THIS TIME THEY MANAGE TO GIVE A PRETTY SPECTACTULAR BLOODY NOSE. AND PROMPTLY LEAVE THE ROOM AS I CALL ‘MY NOSE IS BLEEDING’ AFTER THEM. 

I HAVE TO USE THE MASK I WORE IN TO TRY TO STAUNCH THE NOSEBLEED. 

I THINK IT WAS HERE I HAD MY FULL ON PANIC ATTACK. IF YOU HAVE THEM, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BY FULL-ON. I WAS ALONE. (WHICH I PREFER BECAUSE THEY EMBARRASS ME).

A different nurse finally comes back for some other reason (I don’t remember now). I ask her from some tissues. She hands me some paper towels. She leaves. She returns, gives me a washcloth to clean all the blood off my face and neck. Another nurse is with her. 

ROUND TWO OF DRAWING BLOOD & IV ATTEMPT

These ones do better. But I am calmer having just had the full-on panic attack. They have to use veins in my biceps to draw the blood. And finally get an IV in. (Mind you, it’s an IV I really didn’t need). They give me a bag of fluids and some anti-anxiety/sedative to try to bring my heart rate down (letting me go home would’ve worked far better).

They’ve already done the EKG. They put me through a CT scan and echocardiogram. And finally a chest x-ray (which would’ve been in the more necessary scope of treatment/evaluation for my complaint/concern about residual lung damage).

There’s a good wait time in between these.

I was already hydrated. I drink a lot of water. And so I had to pee very badly. 

Because, guess what the COVID test came back positive and they’ve stuck the official notice on the negative pressure COVID room door,  I have to use the little commode chair thing in the room. The nurse puts a little bedpan/measuring catch thingy in it. She takes some of my urine to test (so yet another unnecessary test). 

They give me another bag of fluids. Which makes me have to pee very badly again. I try to call a nurse. My bladder’s about explode. But I’m hooked up to machines and not sure if I’m allowed to leave the hospital bed. She glances in at me. Tells me it’s okay to go. 

I fill up the little bedpan. 

I will have to pee very badly again by the end of this ordeal, and have more than half a mind to go pee/overflow the bedpan into the rest of the ‘commode’.

But finally whatever doctor assigned to me comes back, says everything is fine and I can be released.

Mind you, my heartrate has remained low 100s for hours and hours (a little high for me, but I was in a fucking hospital and having panic attacks and my anxiety was still quite high).

I wait another half an hour for a nurse to come and disconnect me from everything and do a ‘verbal’ discharge. 

SO MANY TIMES I HAD WANTED TO YANK EVERYTHING OFF ME AND LEAVE. I NOW WISH I HAD DONE PRECISELY THAT.

My parents showed up and were waiting for me in the parking lot to drive me home and drive my truck home. My mom said it looked like I had been through a war. She’d never seen me look so terrible.

I went into work that morning feeling worn down from work. And I was coughing a little. I came out of the hospital 8 hours later feeling the worst I have in my life. Worse than when I was feverish and struggling to breath from COVID infection.

The public health nurses at my workplace advised me to file a complaint against the hospital. They agreed/informed me that what the hospital did was medically unnecessary.

I HAVE BRUISES ALL UP AND DOWN MY ARMS. I HAVE BURST CAPILLARIES UNDER MY EYES AND ACROSS MY CHEEKS FROM CRYING SO HARD. I HAVE WOKEN UP EVERY MORNING SINCE WITH A TIGHT KNOT OF ANXIETY IN MY CHEST. MY HEART RATE (WHICH I CHECK WITH A PULSE OXIMETER) HAS NOT RETURNED TO ITS NORMAL LOWER LEVELS. IT HAS BEEN FIVE DAYS.

SUMMARY:

 I HAD COVID AND RECOVERD. I WAS CONCERNED ABOUT POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS SUCH AS BRONCHITIS, PNEUMONIA OR LUNG DAMAGE BECAUSE I HAVE A RECCURRING SLIGHT COUGH. 

NO HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS UNDER THE CONGLOMERATE THAT IS OUR ONLY CHOICE OF MEDICAL CARE IN OUR REGION WILL SEE ANYONE WHO HAS HAD COVID. THEY SEND THEM ALL DIRECTLY TO THE MAIN HOSPITAL ER COVID UNIT TO DO A SLEW OF UNNECESSARY TESTS AND RACK UP THE HOPISTAL BILL. 

I WENT TO GET A SLIGHT COUGH CHECKED OUT. INSTEAD I WAS SUBJECTED TO UNNECESSARY TESTS AND TREATMENT JUST TO BE TOLD I AM IN FACT PERFECTLY FINE. AND NOW I HAVE TEXTBOOK PTSD. 

FUCK YOU, AMERICAN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM.

**EXTRA REMINDER TO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION AND FOLLOW-UP IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID AND ARE CONCERNED. JUST REMEMBER YOU HAVE RIGHTS AND OUR HEALTH CARE SYSTEM’S MAIN FOCUS IS MAKING MONEY**

[presidentrhodes]

Spider-Man Far From Home spoilers

I just finished watching it and, honestly, I’d say it was a pretty good way to bid farewell to the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

Spoilers under the cut. This is pretty long and rambly. 

1. Midtown high is supposed to be a school for geniuses but these little shits use comic sans in tribute videos and steal watermarked Getty Images pictures to put in them. I loved it, particularly with the song choice and the fact that Vision’s picture was from the Civil War airport standoff in Leipzig — that means only Peter could’ve provided it and no one bothered to ask how he got it. 

2. Tom Holland really wasn’t kidding when he said the film was a love letter to RDJ/Tony Stark. He was everywhere, his sacrifice was being recognised around the world: they even had a documentary on him, which was available in the in-flight entertainment, plus, there were murals and photographs in Venice and Prague. He was very much present throughout the film. 

3. EDITH. In a nutshell, it’s an augmented reality-enabled AI that controls a tactical and defensive system Tony built to protect Earth in the aftermath of his demise. Think Ultron’s perfect self minus the winning personality — EDITH controls a bunch of massive Stark Industries satellites in orbit that are equipped with thousands of weaponised drones. It can remotely target individual threats and take them out with simple voice commands. It also is able to connect to any network in the vicinity, so, Peter was able to see what his classmates were doing on their devices. 

I’ve already seen so many angry posts comparing EDITH to Project Insight without taking into account a) intent; and b) the reality of the MCU. Tony didn’t build EDITH for the same reason Zola built Project Insight. The former was meant to be a last or first line of defence, controlled by an Avenger Tony personally trusted. The latter was a means to subjugate the world population to Hydra’s will. 

All tech in the MCU is dangerous when it falls into the wrong hands — that’s why they’re called the wrong hands and why Steve once said the safest hands are their own. The supersoldier serum gave us Steve Rogers; it also gave us the Winter Soldiers, a bunch of dangerous, invincible highly-trained assassins. Pym particles gave us Ant-Man and the Wasp as well as time travel; it also gave us Yellowjacket, who immediately wanted to weaponise the tech. The Iron Man suit gave us Iron Man; but also gave us Iron Monger, who wanted to build an army of metal soldiers. Wakanda’s highly-advanced weapon systems were able to withstand a full-scale invasion from the Outriders, but those same weapons almost started a global war in Killmonger’s hands. Project Insight and Ultron showed us the bad side of AI; JARVIS, Vision, FRIDAY, Karen and EDITH, to an extent, showed us the good side of AI.

The point is, technology in the wrong hands will always be a bad thing yet people only seem to gripe about Stark tech while ignoring every other piece of advanced technology we’ve seen weaponized or misused. I wonder why. Since the MCU canonically isn’t made up of one big Luddite colony, there’ll always be new technology being developed and bad guys finding ways to abuse them. 

Just look at the holographic tech Mysterio designed while at Stark Industries. Even before he was fired, his ambitions were grander and afterwards, he weaponized it and willingly sent people to their dooms so that he could play a hero. When 16-year-old Peter Parker, MJ and Ned — literal children — found out the truth and Mysterio risked being exposed as a fraud, he actively tried to kill them. Mysterio beat the shit out of Peter and threw him in front of an incoming high-speed train, so, no, I don’t care if Tony Stark was mean to him by firing him, he was a piece of shit who tried repeatedly to kill a kid. 

Tony, meanwhile, spent $600+ million on the holographic tech to design B.A.R.F — a technology with some really promising applications in the MedTech sector to help people overcome their PTSD and trauma. That’s the fucking difference between a superhero and a supervillain.

Sure, EDITH also has massive privacy concerns. That’s on Tony, but after the Decimation, I think people have bigger problems to worry about than whether Peter Parker is snooping on their text messages. Ultimately, EDITH offers Peter, and whoever else is going to fill up the Avengers roster in the future, a plan B to strike the bad guys from a safe distance. I

4. Tony left Peter in charge of EDITH. Not the Avengers, not SHIELD, and definitely not the US Department of Defense — a fact that actually pissed off Mysterio. Tony left it in Peter’s hands because he knew Spider-Man took the meaning of responsibility far more seriously than he ever did. All those years ago, Peter told him if one could do the things he could, and they didn’t, and then the bad things happened, they happened because of them. And, honestly, if anyone deserves to have control over such a potentially dangerous piece of tech that can help in future battles, then it’s Peter — even more so than Tony. 

5. Again, Peter is 16 in this film and still coping with loss and trauma. He willingly gave controls of EDITH to Quentin because Mysterio had everyone fooled, including Nick Fury/Talos — they’re both highly experienced soldiers. Fooling them wouldn’t have been easy and Mysterio’s plan was extremely well thought-out and perfectly executed. Peter redeem himself in the end and takes back control of EDITH. 

6. Peter and MJ were super adorable. Spider-Man is the only franchise apart from Iron Man, where the secondary lead characters are allowed to grow without it all being about the main hero. MJ is allowed to explore her feelings for Peter and measure them against Brad’s affection. Ned is allowed to also grow in his character and be more than Spider-Man’s best friend/guy in a chair. 

7. Happy and May were also adorable.

8. Happy ruined a perfectly good bed of tulips just to rescue May’s nephew and give him the TLC/pep talk he needed after, again, Beck pushed Peter in front of a high-speed train that would’ve killed an ordinary person. 

9. Peter confusing ACDC with Led Zeppelin is the most Gen Z thing ever. Happy watched Peter design his own suit and it reminded him of the times he spent watching Tony tinker in his lab. You could feel Tony’s absence pretty viscerally in that scene on the jet. 

10. Peter tingle. Lol. 

11. Happy’s words about Tony were beautiful. He said something along the lines of, “Tony was my best friend. He second-guessed everything he did. He was a mess. But the one thing he didn’t second-guess was picking you.” That really furthered the Iron Dad Spider Son narrative.

12. Iron Zombie was the w o r s t thing ever. Again, Beck emotionally manipulated 16-year-old Peter Parker and said if Peter was any good, his mentor would still be alive just as he projected an illusion of a decaying Iron Man corpse attacking him. To give you a sense of how manipulative he really is, he told his guy in the chair that Peter’s blood will be on his hands because he had failed to report a missing drone part that MJ had discovered in Prague. 

13. Peter finally understanding that he doesn’t have to be the next Tony Stark or Iron Man. He just needs to be the next Spider-Man and Peter Parker. 

14. Peter choosing to safeguard EDITH. 

15. J. Jonah Jameson and J.K. Simmons. That is all. He’s the MCU equivalent of Alex Jones and I love him so much. I wonder if this means we’ll see Doctor Strange offer Peter his help to erase everyone’s memories about the reveal of his secret identity. 

16. Every Nick Fury scene automatically becomes 2000x funnier when you realize it’s Talos posing as Fury and 90% of the time, he has no idea what the fuck is going on and he’s just winging it as he goes along. Also, he was furious that he and his wife, as members of a shapeshifting species, were unable to detect Mysterio’s ruse. 

17. Mysterio was a douchebag. Apart from trying to kill actual kids because he feared they might expose him, he did nothing worthy of a hero. He was jealous and angry about Tony, and he wanted to usurp Iron Man without doing any of the hard work. He willingly put people in danger, was prepared to sacrifice people to make his actions seem more realistic and wanted to take credit for saving the day and preventing an Avengers-level catastrophe. I’ve already seen reviewers trying to sympathise with Mysterio, and his persistent attempts to kill a 16-year-old kid because Tony was apparently mean to him. 

18. And, no, Tony did not steal B.A.R.F tech from Mysterio as some review sites are claiming. The narrative is unreliable at best because we hear only Quentin’s point of view — the same Quentin who had been using his holographic tech to deceive people and put them in harm’s way because he wanted to shake the Queen’s hands or some misguided bullshit. He deserved to fired. Plus, he was a Stark Industries employee. Tech companies almost always own the patent to whatever tech you design or invent for them when you’re on their payroll. It’s how corporations work.

19. Tony quoted Henry IV to Fury when he told him to give EDITH to Peter and said Spidey wouldn’t get the reference (Heavy is the head that wears the crown) because it’s not Star Wars. It was a nice, poignant moment — made funnier when you realize that’s Talos in disguise, which means at some point, Fury had to have a conversation with him about Shakespeare and Star Wars. Someone pls write the fic. 

20. The most important thing is that this film actually tried to address the Decimation. Endgame pretended to gloss over it to give Gay Joe Russo his 15 minutes of fame. But this film actually started with May and Peter organizing an event to help the displaced. Pepper sent a huge check and apologized for not being able to make it in person. :( 

20a. I love Jake Gyllenhaal. I had expected Quentin to be a dramatic thot but he really brought a lot of depth to the character. 

Overall, I liked the film a lot more than I had anticipated. Some people are going to scrutinize this film to death to prove Tony was the ultimate MCU villain and, hey, if that’s the hill they choose to die on, I don’t really care. After 11 years and 23 films later, if they still think that Tony was the real villain all along, then nothing we say or Marvel does, will change their mind. 

Personally, I thought this film was a good send off to Tony, now that they’ve firmly established that Peter Parker/Spider-Man is going to be the new face of the MCU and will carry with him the Iron Man legacy. He wasn’t always right and a lot of his choices tended to backfire but, in the end, his motivations were good and he still went out as the man who saved the world. He, unlike Beck, or Vulture before him, never tried to kill a child, not even when he brought him to a parking lot brawl among friends. 

Now, if only Marvel can just leave Tony’s legacy alone and let Peter, and the rest of the MCU, thrive on its own instead of retconning established Iron Man lore to fit new narratives. 

[macklives]

homestuck recap

i hated this so fucking much bc my 2 am bitch-ass didnt want to read a recap thats probably longer than any slowburn out there

anyways here it is

also, uhhH sorry im using this as a end of session discussion bc that shit gets explained in her as well. and im not writing up more recaps of a recap so this is where im done for the day. (by done for the day i mean last nights session, im still doing a liveblog soon. i just wrote this yesterday)

also that this is long

you dont have to read it, theres nothing of importance

ive been coping with humor to get me through it

neato.

have fun with what i suffered through:

why was “beta” the only thing unhighlighted?

like did i miss a page???

OH its the beta version of HS thats why

damn its like 5 pages and thats it

mmh

well youll all be happy to know im clicking every single one of these links again bc i like looking back like ahh i remember that. good times. also in case i forgot some shit existed.

do you think andrew had fun writing this? or was he like “fuck”

thats a lot of fucking package talk. good thing im not confused as of now and remember it pretty clearly. of else, this early on in the recap, id be screwed.

god remember when i did an analysis on each item and what it did

i feel as if i have the technology engrained inside my head right now

cruxite, alchemeter, all that jazz

flashbacks are starting up already

yeah, that was the good part in homestuck where i knew 100% that i probably would continue on this liveblog in its entirety, ngl

that one explosion scene. bc it kept me going.

OH W A IT SHIT

i just realized how the intermission spades probably fucking foreshadowed the whole jack revolts thing and gains the ring, which was also technically JOHNS fault considering he slashed up the doll in the first place

my god, i guess thats the only good aspect of the recap. looking back at things and realizing the missing pieces.

oh that makes sense for the whole “this prototyping had no effect on the enemies, since he was already in the medium” i didnt actually think about that

little did rose know where that would get her right now

oh yeah

there’s still the whole entire lab terminal thing and how mom basically knows the place exists. i guess we’re still venturing onto that and itll come up later when we find out how mom knows SO MUCH about the game.

still think shes some weird spy or secret agent

i kinda love her ngl

anyways, theres literally no reason for skaia to produce a cloning machine. so technically, they only sent the meteors in, right? so who put the cloning machine in if not mom?

oh yeah that impact was nerve wrecking asf

and still at this point in the comic i called dave fuckboy red

huh, how times change

i hated reading that whole paragraph ngl, the frustration just kicked me in the boobs again

yeah nobody else got tornadoes, huh?

OH that makes also much more sense

bc she did prototyped them before she entered the medium.

i gotcha

man one of my favorite edits i made, rose hitting that meteor with a bat

are you

telling me

the exiles structures they arrived on were in the form of the items the kids used to enter the medium?

THE EGG

THAT EXPLAINS “EGG”

of course it was 413 years ago. that was never explained. simply vague “many years in the future....” but i expected no less from this

man serenity is the most wholesome character in hs no doubt

damn thought andy here was really gonna spoil us jade’s planet

okay cool, im glad i now have the layout to the whole “their stations went to the coordinates of the home button” shindig

man i honestly dont know what else to say besides “yeah cool recap” when i already pretty much know what went down? ofc im looking into each link and shit and adding in things when i see fit, but otherwise its just me going “ah good times” yknow

the whole meteor thing kinda makes sense now?

we’re still missing a few pieces of info but we’re getting there, folks

oh yeah that reveal

god jade and dave have it in the shits for parents huh

bro isnt the best and jade has a fucking dog

who lowkey

is doing better than bro

who knew a fucking dog is a better guardian than bro lmfao

dreambot = terminator. im telling you.

sorry im still on that idea and it will never leave unless i have the actual proof in front of me that its not going to become a thing. meaning, ive finished hs and theres still no terminator dreambot or either andrew himself gives me a canon letter with “the robot is not arnold, mackenzie, pls just let it be”

why is the entire game session highlighted

i swear to god if this is like to a second recap or smth of the whole game session i may fucking CRY

okay thank god its just a design of the skaia layout

which is honestly cool

idk why its blurry tho but i can at least see the layout now. which is honestly how i pictured it anyways.

yeah, john did make a huge impact in his friends’ life and i find that so fucking touching

yep. got that. everything loops around. cool.

especially when the trolls come in. god we havent even gotten to that recap portion yet, we havent even gotten to the INTERMISSION

pls can this be the halfway point to the recap

AT LEAST

so they were exiled after the whole jack: ascend thing, right? considering theyre way in the future. man no fucking wonder.

speaking of jack

man that whole dad and jack interaction was gold, ngl

OH THAT EXPLAINS THE RING THEN

and wow, andrew’s really giving us the best female content huh. andrew is the true god of equality and diversity.

also hey, i didnt realize that wow. so PM tricked the queen in showing the parking ticket to be able to take the present from jack. she’s a smart cookie, that one..

she and PM basically snitched on jack and it was the best thing that has happened to me so far

oh yeah okay

but why did AR panic over bec? bc thats something we havent learned yet, right?

anyways

exile town, the only town which should exist. facts. i dont make the rules.

noice

i love PM being queen. like.. thats canon now. shes an actual queen.

yeah that was a fun game and the consorts were cute

fuck yeah the dick head

hate them even more now that i know john was killed because of them

anyways, i wonder what dick move dave’s denizen did? maybe thats why its filled with lava bc the denizen was like “fuck it. make the land red. kill them all”

UH WHAT

WHAT

OH MY GOD HOW DID I JUST FORGET NANNAS LETTER LIKE THAT LMFAO

THEIR TITLES WERE THERE THE WHOLE TIME!

so i still dont know what they mean but i can gather it has something to do with the game giving them abilities. considering dave is the “knight of time” and he can go back in time. whack.

which means john can either control someones breathing or simply wind. and rose is... like that one girl in the winx club who does the sun shit. bc whenever i think of light powers, i think of stella.

and jade is space. witch of space.

nice

i have no idea what that means ngl

okay finally

we’re at the trolls

maybe this recap will end soon

i remember when i thought they were internet bullies

yesss

someone asked if i basically knew the trolls were on a different veil than the kids, so not presently with them, and i know lol. i was making a joke before btw. jsyk. dont think im incompetent to forget these things when sometimes i choose to forget it so i can add in a joke

it be like that, i annoy many

then again, pls dont assume im trying to say im not incompetent bc im also a fucking dumbass and DO forget shit and i have no excuse

imagine being so bored on the meteor, your last resort is speaking to aliens

ngl me if i was ever trapped on a meteor and could potentially do that

nah ik its bc its their only hope at helping with their session or whatever tf CG said to john. but there was BOUND to be a conference meeting between them like “okay guys. humans. that needs to be sorted out” and you just hear CG screaming in the background

i cant wait to meet them honestly bc im growing on all 4 of the ones we’ve seen already. and on top of that, i know what they look like and i know theyre not THAT bad, just a little on the crayy zee side sometimes

but theyre trying

OH MY GOD

I GET IT

FUCK

DOES THAT MEAN THE INTERMISSION IS *APART* OF THE MAIN FUCKING STORY??

AND SPADES IS WV FOR THE TROLLS

GOD D A M N

wow

i didnt expect that. but maybe the signs were there and i was just willingly choosing to ignore it or smth bc “haha couldnt be, right”

flashbacks to how i thought the trolls were humans

anyways, i guess he got his revenge on the kids version of “snowman” ie the black queen. but really

he did not have to do that. he could have cut off the finger and fled. but he decided “nah, lets implode her” so the loml is dead and all i got was a catchy song

i knew they were different types of “bullies” but now i just have to replace bullies with uhh

trolling strategies

anyways, this is cute. i love how they’ve come to be friends through mutual frustration. good part in the comic.

i wonder why it explodes

more importantly

....

terminator time?

this was my favourite sequences of dialogues in the whole entirety of homestuck. that is to say the back and forth thing that the kids went through to become a sort of wingman for the other.

absolutely gold.

all except AT’s rap.

GC was the only smart one with the linear shit

anyways fuck he still has to kill the denizen now but apparently its hard to beat for a sleeping dick head so

that will be fun for the future

john will probably need to kill A LOT of imps to get there

yeah rose is a badass bc she slayed that thing with needles of all things

OH and the white queen was the cursive

damn did AR ever do the whole guide process to a kid yet? maybe he will with dave, idk

oHHH

i fucking SEE

thats why he said DNA

to use it and replace all the life forms in the ocean

fucking neat wow

man that sounded sarcastic but im genuinely impressed bc all i got was bullshit as i read jaspersprites log

so thats the secret. it was “meow” bc that somehow translates to the genetic code she needs then. and that code apparently took fucking years to write as well. sick. whack. oh man.

derse is very pretty, ngl

and wow shit

“dave had already been awake in his tower all along without realizing it” how tf does someone just

do that, awake in both places at once

i didnt even fucking realize that fact as i read that pesterlog wow

ah yes, around the time things got confusing

okay so the capsule makes sense bc at first i didnt know it was a fucking time capsule so i got confused as to how it just apparated the game lmfao

the more you know i guess *twinkle*

i find that a neat concept tho

like the whole whatever you prototype affects the imps and shit

yeah so that whole “he had no advice” basically impacted his future

no shit dave wanted to reset things bc he probably thought he caused some sort of bad butterfly effect and killed his best friend

fuck calsprite thats all im gonna say

i read that first sentence and i think i got an aneurysm

and then everything else just made me sad again

i mean good thing he fucking did amirite?

we got pain at first but now we got cool shit like idk

fucking DAVESPRITE

damn idk how that works

will rose have like two minds now? or will this be some steven universe fusion shit?

“and understood their meaning” course well i fucking didnt so could you pls elaborate, rose?

okay but then what the fuck did he use that was inside the fucking box

bc i thought he used his knife?

im only every going to refer him as that now, thank you andrew

alright okay..

god that was a lot

i dont know what will happen once i click on those links but i am going to see that for myself bc i refuse to add ANYTHING ELSE

[luxusnoname]

A Long Forgotten Ache, Pt.1 (Xigbar/Vexen)

Summary: Being a Nobody is easy without all of those messy emotions weighing you down. Still, Xigbar gets to thinking and maybe he misses it a little. Or, rather, he misses someone. But he never goes about things in a straightforward way. The first half of a two part fic.

Characters/Pairings: Xigbar/Vexen

Rating: T (swears, fighting & some blood, nbd)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Part two is technically done, but I definitely want to do some quality edits before posting. Both parts were actually written last year with inktober prompts, but ended up fitting together nicely as one story. I made a lot of improvements to this portion and want the continuation to be on that same level. So in the meantime… Happy 2/4 ^^

~~~

A Long Forgotten Ache

When Xemnas asked Xigbar who he wanted with him on a recon mission in a world with no magic, the freeshooter was perhaps too quick to volunteer Vexen. He could tell that answer wasn’t exactly what the Superior expected.

“Are you… Quite sure? You wouldn’t rather have Xaldin or Lexaeus accompany you?”

“Look, I know he’s the resident egghead and not exactly our best fighter, but he’s the only one around here with an eye as sharp as mine. Well, almost.” Xigbar grinned and pointed to his good eye to reinforce the point. “Yeah the other two have brute strength, but I could really use his intuition on this one.”

That, of course, was only part of the reason. Vexen was also incredibly fun to agitate. The rise he could get out of him wasn’t the same as it used to be, but it was better than anyone else in the Organization. Plus, they hadn’t spent much time together since becoming Nobodies. He would lie if he wasn’t a little curious as to how much of Even was still left. But personal curiosity and entertainment didn’t make for a good argument, so he said nothing more.

Xemnas hummed to himself, considering. “I suppose that would work. But see to it that he’s capable of defending himself without his magic, should there be any difficulties on the mission. You’ll depart at the end of the week.”

Xigbar gave a flippant salute as he summoned a corridor to the academic’s lab. “You got it, boss.”

As expected, Vexen was less than pleased with Xigbar’s request. Something about his talents being best utilized for research, having no interest in a fruitless recon mission, and honestly Xigbar kinda stopped listening at that point because it turned into a full on laundry list of reasons why he had better things to do and he would not be wasting his time with this.

“See, but here’s the thing,” Xigbar cut in a few minutes into the scientist’s rant, knowing full well he’d be there all day otherwise.  “I’m not just asking you politely. These are orders straight from the top.”

Vexen sputtered, nearly dropping his beaker full of who knows what chemical. “Lord Xemnas himself picked me for this assignment?”

“Well, I made a case for you but yeah, boss man’s orders.”

Vexen finally turned from his experiment and narrowed his eyes at the freeshooter. “If you made a case for me, then I suppose my only way of getting out of this is to make a case against myself. Provided, of course, that’s an option.”

“Heh, you’re welcome to give it a shot,” Xigbar shrugged, “be my guest. But I really doubt he’s gonna budge on this one. I was pretty convincing.”

“We’ll see about that…”

In the next morning’s meeting, Vexen made his case. Or, rather, he tried to make his case. It had only been five minutes and most of the Organization was tuning out. Luxord shuffled and cut his deck, starting up another game of solitaire. Xaldin leaned back in his seat, appearing to nap with his eyes closed. Zexion rolled his eyes as the others quietly chatted amongst themselves. Eventually Xemnas cleared his throat, interrupting the academic and regaining the attention of the meeting.

“While your research is of remarkable importance to the Organization, so is this mission and every other mission we undertake. Do you mean to suggest that the orders I give are frivolous?”

“Of course not, but Lord Xemnas-”

The Superior shot him a withering glare that silenced him once and for all. “My word is final, Number IV. You are going on this mission and I’d rather be certain that you’re prepared for it. Whatever form that preparation takes is up to Xigbar.”

As Xemnas disappeared from the room, uncomfortable glances were exchanged among the remaining members before leaving to begin their own missions. Xigbar shot Vexen a smug grin, receiving an irritated huff in return.

After the meeting, the scientist pulled him aside in the Grey Area. He was slightly subdued after Xemnas’ scolding, but Xigbar could tell if he had emotions that he’d be fuming inside.

“While I believe our Superior has far too much confidence in you, I have no other choice but to comply. So how would you like to do this?”

His lips curled into a cheshire grin. “Meet me back here later tonight and I’ll brief you on the mission. Tomorrow morning, we’ll spar so I can test your readiness.”

Vexen gave no indication that he would comply as he stomped off into a corridor, but Xigbar knew he would show. He may grump and argue until he’s blue in the face, but he followed orders. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. About Even.

Xigbar caught himself smirking - no, smiling - at the thought of the academic’s Somebody name. Huh. Despite it all, maybe he hadn’t changed much himself.

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

The next morning found Xigbar waiting for Vexen in the Hall of Empty Melodies. It was his favored room for training because of all the different ways he could manipulate it with his spatial powers, but he also found himself going there to organize his thoughts when his own room became too stifling. He perched himself on the balcony, one knee drawn nearly up to his chest and the other dangling over the edge.

It wasn’t often that Xigbar found himself pondering his past life. He was essentially still Braig, after all, just without all of those messy emotions. And boy had Braig been a mess. Drifting through life and never getting too attached to any person or place for long, bonds weren’t really his thing. It was strange when he found himself becoming one of the Apprentices. 

Ansem was never much more than his employer, to be honest. The man had taken him in, sure, but the guy was the king of Radiant Garden. To consider him a colleague would have been laughable. Really, he spent the most time with Dilan and Aeleus. They were two of the only people he’d ever considered friends. He got on their nerves and he knew it, but he never pushed it too far (though they might argue with that.) But they never got seriously upset with him. Not like Even.

Even. The academic was skeptical when Braig showed up. Understandably so, but did the cold shoulder really have to be so cold? It was no surprise that the man was a master of ice magic; everything about him was frigid, from his stuffy posture to the very air around him. But it only made Braig want to get closer, to get past the ice and warm him up… 

Heh, now those were some thoughts he hadn’t had in a while. All in all, it hadn’t been too bad there at the end. He had coworkers and a routine and a life. A place to call home, despite never having asked for any of it.

And then he gave it all up.

Did he regret it? Sometimes.

There were moments, when they began falling to darkness, when he considered the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t meant for them to be caught up in everything, but then again, how could it have been avoided? He never once went back on his word to the old man, but he’d be lying if he said there were never nights where the guilt gnawed at him, moments he looked at Ienzo and saw a boy that would never truly grow up because of him.

But that was the old life. He stirred out of his thoughts and assessed the room below him. Vexen wasn’t there yet, but would be showing up soon. Xigbar dropped down onto the main platform. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this fight, but he was hoping to be surprised. 

Even had never been the physical type, relying on his magic for self defense. But there was a noticeable difference between Even and Vexen. Despite lacking emotion, there was something about him that suggested fire beneath the Nobody’s icy surface. Or so Xigbar hoped.

“Apologies for being late, I didn’t want to be here.”

Xigbar smirked at the approaching scientist. “About time. I was starting to think you got cold feet and stood me up. You ready?”

“If I have to be,” he grumbled.

With a nod, Xigbar unzipped and shrugged off his coat. The freeshooter still had the standard uniform of black shirt and pants on underneath, but made a show of dramatically rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He snuck a look at Vexen, who was watching with no expression save for a raised eyebrow.

“You failed to mention we’d be disrobing for this,” he muttered, his eyes drifting up and down Xigbar’s form. The freeshooter wondered if he was conscious of it or not.

“C’mon, you call this disrobing?” Xigbar barked out a laugh, peeling off his gloves and throwing them down. “Don’t tell me you’re going commando under there.”

“Well of course not, but-”

“It does wonders for mobility, trust me.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Vexen grumbled to himself as he shed his own jacket. Xigbar couldn’t recall ever having seen the man’s arms bared before - well, mostly bared. His broad shoulders had always been obvious, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising when the scientist wasn’t as scrawny as he’d imagined. Of course, Xigbar couldn’t really talk because apart from Zexion, he was definitely the smallest of the Apprentices in both stature and mass. He gave an appreciative nod before getting into a fighting stance.

Vexen copied the motion as best he could. His form was a little loose, suggesting the lack of experience that Xigbar had expected. But that’s why they were there, right?

He knew the answer before he even asked, but gave Vexen the benefit of the doubt anyway. “You ever done this before, Snowflake?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter, now do I?”

“Damn straight. After I’m through with you though? You’ll be more than ready for the mission.”

At Vexen’s nod, Xigbar gave a silent countdown. Three. Two. One. Without giving Vexen a moment to think, he lunged and closed the distance between them, hoping to catch him off guard with a swift uppercut. To his surprise, the blow was deflected with relative ease. He took a step back to reassess his opponent.

“Well well well,” he huffed, “I should’ve known the nerd could block a punch. I was gonna take it easy on ya, but now…”

Trailing off, he moved back in and followed up with a series of hooks and jabs, all of which Vexen managed to block. And with each passing second, each failed attempt, the scientist was looking more and more smug. He knew the freeshooter had underestimated him.

As they circled each other, the room silent save for their labored breaths and footfalls, Xigbar grew impatient. He hadn’t managed to land a single hit yet. It wasn’t as if he’d gone into the sparring match with the express purpose of beating on the academic, but he just didn’t understand how he was doing so well. Sure, Vexen wasn’t exactly firing back, instead focusing all of his efforts on defense, but Xigbar was no stranger to a fist fight. So what gives?

And it was then that he remembered Vexen’s signature wasn’t a weapon at all, but a shield. Well, he’d just have to give him something he couldn’t block that easily. He locked eyes with the academic before lunging again.

As expected, Vexen was ready for the attack, dodging the first hit and continuing to deflect the rest. After a few more unsuccessful blows, Xigbar saw his opening and took it. The freeshooter threw all of his weight into a tackle, grabbing the man’s wrists as they both went down.

He sat up, slightly dazed and his own body sore from the fall, but kept the scientist’s arms pinned to the ground. And the momentary look of shock on Vexen’s face - if he could feel shock, anyway - was well worth it. The scientist looked down to see Xigbar straddling his waist and shot him a sneer.

“I didn’t realize this was a grappling match as well,” he hissed between shallow breaths.

Xigbar gave a toothy grin. “Can’t have you being the only one full of surprises, now can I?”

He kept Vexen pinned a few seconds longer, looking down at him. The academic was a mess of blonde hair and faux anger, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as he caught his breath. He glared at Xigbar, waiting for him to say or do something. Daring him to make a move. And so without a second thought, Xigbar dipped his head and pressed his lips to Vexen’s in a fleeting kiss.

Or, what was meant to be fleeting. The kiss was unexpectedly returned, Vexen’s mouth parting with a quiet ‘mmph’ before falling into sync with Xigbar’s. Something sparked in the sharpshooter’s chest - a long forgotten ache, right where his non existent heart should be. He pulled back, unable to keep his jaw from going slack as he stared down at Vexen. The man’s face was a mirror of his own, almost as if he was equally surprised at the reciprocation. Unless… he felt it too? Xigbar almost thought he saw color beginning to tinge the man’s cheeks when-

CRACK.

In his moment of distraction, Vexen had freed his right hand and swung with all of his remaining strength, landing a solid blow against the freeshooter’s face and effectively knocking him off.

Xigbar clutched at his bleeding and likely broken nose, eye wide with shock. His breath came in gasps as he stared at Vexen. “… the fuck?”

Vexen stood up and grabbed his jacket, furiously brushing his hair back into place. His face was definitely turning red and for a moment Xigbar could swear he was looking at a flustered Even, not the heartless Nobody that had just decked him.

“I’ll see you on the day of the mission, and not a moment before.” He gave the sharpshooter one last glare before disappearing into a dark corridor.

Xigbar couldn’t even think straight as he tried to process everything that just happened. The fight was over quicker than expected. Shit, had he technically lost? Did he just get his ass handed to him by Vexen? All because of some… stupid tingling in his chest that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. Or at least, it hadn’t been in a long time. Why had he done that?

He laid down, head thunking against the floor as he clutched at his still bleeding nose. Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad. Vexen wouldn’t be telling anyone about their little match after that stunt, so at least his dignity was spared. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

In private, Xermnas had confided in him that regrowth of one’s heart was theoretically possible. It was gone now, but he still felt the ghost sensations of a pulse, the flickering of a flame that had long gone out. Maybe there was something to that theory after all. Not that he’d be reporting this back to their Superior any time soon. Or ever.

Instead, it might be worth it to look into the phenomenon on his own. And if he played his cards right, Vexen might willingly help him. He allowed himself a chuckle before closing his eye. After all, research was easier with a partner.

[stillness-in-green]

Changeling: The League (3/3)

Bonus Miscellanea!  A sampler round of various other villains and some AU-of-the-AU versions of the story and characters, including some alternate takes on characters using other game lines from the World of Darkness.  

This post is the last one I have in mind for the concept, but I hope everyone who was curious enough to read them enjoyed them.  There’s some fun stuff in this post in particular, I think--the Word of Darkness really is a very versatile setting.  Find the explanations and the League of Villains here, the follow-up with the Meta Liberation Army here, or just hit the jump for the bonus material.

THE MINIONS

All for One’s direct loyalists and followers.  All are dual-kithed or otherwise eyebrow-raising in kith/seeming combination, and all have a high enough Wyrd that their kith abilities are starting to evolve--serving AFO does have its benefits.  With AFO imprisoned back in Faerie and the cycle stalled out, AFO’s followers are finding themselves facing an unclear future, and so each is having to come up with what they want to do going forward.  Mostly want Tomura to come back and get things moving again, having little sense that there is a world out there that’s more “real” than the one they currently inhabit.

Kurogiri

Type: Palewraith Darkling, Chatelaine dual kith.  Once a caretaker for Tomura, he opts to find Tomura out in the real world in hopes of resuming that directive.  When Tomura does not show even a shred of recognition, Kurogiri opts to set up a bar in the local Hedge, making himself “available.”  

Mantle: Winter, season of secrecy.  Has a servant’s circumspectness with a loyalist’s desire to keep his secrets, as well as a deep, very old melancholy that even he doesn’t really remember the reason for anymore.  

Contracts: Fleeting Winter I, Sorrow-Frozen Winter I-III, Dream I-V, and Smoke I-IV.  For Smoke, he has the old 4-dot Smoke-stepping clause rather than the more modern Murkblur, which is something of a tell regarding his true age.

 Ujiko

Type: Chirurgeon Darkling, which shouldn’t actually be possible by the categorizations as the fae understand them.  He’s been in AFO’s hands for a long time, though.  Current fear: what’s going to happen to the realm if the cycle continues to stall?  Gears can only grind against one another for so long before something explodes!

Mantle: Autumn.  A mad scientist with a deep appreciation for breaking things open to find out how they tick.

Contracts: Artifice I-III, Shade & Spirit I-IV, Spellbound Autumn I-III, and Goblin Delayed Harm III.

 Gigantomachia

Type: Stonebones Elemental, Gargantuan dual kith.  AFO’s most loyal monster.  Would have tried to find Shigaraki sooner, but he’s far too removed from the human he once was to be able to find his way through the Hedge without aid.  Probably spends the first few parts of the story giving All Might trouble in Faerie.  

Mantle: Courtless.  Has no emotional affinities that don’t track back to All for One.  

Contracts: Oath & Punishment I-V, Communion (Earth) I-III, and Stone I-V.  Like Geten, a close replica of his canonical powerset.

OTHER VILLAINS 

Muscular: Bloodbrute Ogre.  Ex-gladiator; current terror.

Moonfish: Gristlegrinder Ogre.  Current cannibal; also current terror.

Mustard: Blightbent Elemental.  Looks cuter because he doesn’t have to wear the gas-mask to protect against his own fumes.

Stain: Razorhand Darkling, give or take a Pischacha dual kith.  Broken very deeply by Arcadia from the strict and upright man he once was, but Lost society was pretty much created to provide a safe haven for that kind of damage.  A Summer Court enforcer of some notoriety.  

Gentle Criminal: Windwing Beast.  Refuses to be ground-bound, and is posting videos of himself doing impossible stunts that are drawing some attention, for better or for worse.   

La Brava: Drudge Wizened.  Falls in love with Gentle for showing her that you don’t have to shrink into what other people tried to make of you.  Has absolutely dyed her hair bright pink.  Somehow amazing at stealth anyway.

Gag Inclusion That Makes No Sense With the Lore But Is Perfect Anyway So I’m Not Changing It: 

Overhaul: “Don’t be ridiculous.  There’s no such thing as magic.”  

A banality-riddled Dauntain, from the previous incarnation of the game.  This is how Magne survives--he doesn’t kill her, but rather nukes her glamour reserves/Wyrd score access so badly she has to spend the next three months in the motley’s Hollow living in as much fae decadence as they can afford her, dining on hedgefruit, pampering herself, and keeping up with her various dream pledges while she recovers.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSES, ALTERNATE TAKES  

Hero Court, Villain Court: There is a version of the story where Heroes and Villains are old labels from a time when the freehold was built around a now-collapsed Sun Court/Moon Court dichotomy, headed up by All Might and All for One.  In the days following the catastrophic last battle, changelings of the Hero Court and the Villain Court alike have begun picking up the pieces and realigned to what everyone hopes will be a more stable Seasonal Court model.  Endeavor is the Summer King, a changeling who somehow had four three children when it’s all but unheard of to have even one.

Final Boss Shigaraki: There is a version of the story that centers on Deku, and in that version, what Shigaraki learns is this: everyone and everything has an end waiting for them somewhere.  As the game story progresses through power creep and mounting stakes, dramatic revelations and shifting priorities, Shigaraki moves away from Autumn and becomes more attuned to the fatalistic but liberating philosophy of Dusk.  As such, he gains the Entropy Contract clauses, I-V.  In this fashion, Shigaraki is paralleled by Final Battle Deku, rising champion of the Dawn, who is likewise gaining mastery of the Contract of Shonen Protag Powers Potential.  Will they be enemies in the end?  Allies?  Either way, their fates are connected.

Changeling All for One: There is a version of the story in which All Might and All for One are both changelings, in which the entirety of My Hero Academia is a story being played out in some far realm of Faerie.  All for One here is not Shigaraki’s Keeper, but merely a mentor who, when expy!Kamino happens, takes the opportunity to get Shigaraki out, knowing that he himself has been gone from the world for far too long to ever make the return trip through the Thorns intact.  In this version, All Might is an unknowing Loyalist who follows Shigaraki out, determined to capture him “for the good of society”--which would, of course, entail dragging him back to Faerie.

Destro the Revolutionary: There is a version of the story in which Desto is not one of the Gentry, but rather a changeling from years past, one who was spearheading a huge movement advocating that the Lost should reveal themselves to human society writ large--that Faerie predation could never be stopped as long as humanity didn’t know about it, and changelings had the power to, well, change that.   And weren't they tired of living in hiding; didn't they wish they could tell their loved ones the truth?  And that was a message that a lot of changelings liked, but it was also a message that terrified changelings in equal measure, and so in the end, an operative/operation from the Seasonal Court freehold put Destro down.  

In that take, Re-Destro is a successor to Destro as someone who came out of a similar durance and the MLA is a group planning a retributive war against the Seasonal Courts for their perfidy.  Shigaraki and the League could either stumble across the plot or be actively approached as a potentially sympathetic party after Shigaraki's relationship to AFO comes out and endangers his position in his own freehold.  

Re-Destro the Prince: There is a version of the story in which Re-Destro is not a changeling at all, but rather a vampiric prince, heir to a forbidden blood discipline.  He and his followers catch wind of the League motley: not vampires, but not normal humans, either.  They seek the motley out to find out what their deal is and whether it will be a complication to the MLA’s plans.  Vampires are far more immediately dangerous than changelings, but changelings have so many wonderful little tricks up their sleeve, especially against people who are careless with their battle banter.  (But I’ll be real, I hardly know a thing about Vampire: The Requiem--I’m much more familiar with Masquerade.  This version of the story mostly exists because I’m a Shigaraki/Re-Destro shipper and I am not immune to adventures in sexy blooddrinking.) 

THE WIDE WORLD OF DARKNESS

There are many other spins one could put on various MHA characters that would be fun to explore.  I kept all the relevant characters fae (or Fae) because if I started thinking about all the things the characters could be, I would actually never stop--and anyway, I’m more familiar with Old World of Darkness meta than I am New World of Darkness.  A lot of the ideas were still fun, though, so for your perusal, here are some of the ones I came up with:

The Shie Hassaikai is an extremist Hunter cell dedicated to weeding out supernatural creatures of all sorts.

Ujiko is a wildly amoral retired Hunter running a mad scientist lab funded by dubiously sourced money from his fae patron, as long as he’s spending a requisite amount of time per month working on AFO’s projects.

There exists a Sin-Eater and his resident Geist who have become so tangled in each other that they no longer retain separate identities, and are now merely “Kurogiri.”  

Kurogiri is a changeling.  Yamada Hizashi is a Sin Eater.  Aizawa Shouta is a Hunter, and he and Hizashi both are trying to dig up information on what happened to Shirakumo Oboro, but neither one of them is anywhere near getting at the truth of the matter.  (This one might actually be true for the purposes of the main Changeling!AU story.)

Midoriya Izuru is a mortal taking his first, faltering steps into the great wide world.  He’s had no durance, no first change, no sire, no awakening--he’s just a young man who stumbles across a secret and has to decide what to do with it.

[your-modern-shakespeare]

Just Like You (24)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23

Summary: You are an experiment, the first of its kind. One day you escape and are living a normal life when you run into a perfect stranger or was he?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5365

A/N: Well...it’s my birthday today so I decided to post a birthday chapter. I originally wanted to post this on March 10th but realized right as I was about to post, the first half of the chapter had already been posted so...I’m dumb. But it’s up for today even thought being quarantined has sucked the life out of me and will do the same for me today. I hope someone enjoys this but I don’t know. Enjoy. 

Warnings: angst, non-cannon info (?), kissing, some fluff, google translate, flashback, POV switching, a little bit of a cliff hanger

Tags: @thisisthelilith, @thesalsafic, @fangirl1802, @lust-for-pan, @iamwarrenspeace, @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi, @ssweet-empowerment​

BUCKY’S POV

1 Month Later

I walked into the hospital room and sat down on the bed next to her, like I did every day since we got here. She was still asleep, no surprise there.

So I pulled out the next letter, an identical match to the other ones I had written to her every day since we got here, and sat on the bed beside her. I looked over at the ever growing stack of them, sitting beside her bed, all 207 of them, and opened the newest one. I grabbed her hand, moved real close to her, and began the next letter.

.

Dear Y/N,

It’s been 6 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days since everything was normal. But it’s also been, officially, 1 year since we left Bucharest. Happy 116th Birthday.

Steve wanted to come in and throw some kind of party for my 100th birthday but it feels wrong to celebrate today without you. I thought we would both make it to this day and even though you’re physically here, it’s not the same. I wanted to take you out to dinner and I wanted to bake you cupcakes and everything else I had planned for us last year. I want to do these things because you’re here and you deserve it, I don’t want to do anything without you.

Bruce and Tony have been working really hard to figure this out and everyone else has been looking for new HYDRA information everytime they go out on a mission. They said that they had an idea, they’ve been working on it for a while though so I don’t know if it’ll work. They came to your room a couple of days ago to explain this idea and I want to say that I understood everything they said but I would be lying…

I wanted to wait until I understood everything to write it down but maybe when you’re reading these it’ll make sense to you. They couldn’t stop talking about trying to control the serum, that they thought that there was a harmless way to move the serum from all over your body to just a part of your body. The serum would be concentrated enough for you to control but they couldn’t tell me what the after effects would be to do something like this. Would you be in pain as the serum moved? Would you feel the serum once it was concentrated? What would move it and what would make it stay once it was moved?

Unfortunately I didn’t get those answers and probably because I am being hard on them. I hate to admit it but the things I’ve learned about what HYDRA did to you, about all the things you’ve endured, it’s made it hard for me to accept these experiments. I don’t want you to go through any more pain, I don’t want you to have to deal with this. God if there was a way I could take away your pain, I would in a heartbeat. But it doesn't work that way.

So instead I’m just waiting for some kind of miracle to happen and maybe next year we’ll get to celebrate our birthdays together.

Love,

Me

.

STEVE’S POV

The three of us stood outside of the hospital room, looking in through the glass window, watching as bucky sat there reading another letter to a sleeping Y/N. The last six months have been nothing but a huge search for answers. If we weren’t in Wakanda sleeping or resting from a mission, we were on a mission. It kept us busy but it also didn’t yield many results which was the most frustrating part of it all. That and the fact that we still had you in a coma.

I had wanted so badly to have you awake for Bucky’s birthday...and yours too I guess. Which is why I was hoping to anyone listening that Tony was right in this experiment.

“Tony, how sure are you about this?”

“I’m at like...98%?”

“Well I need you to be at 198%. We didn’t tell Bucky we were doing this so it has to work.”

“Look...I know that everyone wants answers to whatever is happening but I don’t know them, I act like I have them but I don’t. What I do know 100%, is that Y/N will know something that we don’t know. She knows a lot more about everything, HYDRA or otherwise. My goal isn’t to fix her right now, I just need to plug the hole so that I can wake her up. We have to stabilize her and I think that pushing as much of the serum as possible away from her brain and her arm would give her the control that she needs to wake up and give us some of the answers we’re looking for.”

“And what about these robots?”

“Well, when we x-rayed Bucky we noticed a strange reaction happening in the shoulder joint near his arm. Because his arm was amputated and healed before putting the arm on, there’s no real connection between the flesh of his shoulder and the vibranium of the arm, that we can see anyway. And yet the serum is still drawn to the vibranium, it’s why we think the arm was used as an additional way of controlling him. We think that when Bucky is activated the combination of the serum and mind control is what makes him obedient to whoever controls him and the metal would essentially behave in the same manner because not only is it attached to him but it can mimic the same reaction as the serum.” Bruce said.

“Mimic?”

“There’s some kind of connection between the two that we don’t understand. We did tests on the serum and the vibranium and the results were always the exact same. Ther serum was made with basic chemistry, there’s not much in there that we couldn’t find in labs today but vibranium...there’s a reason it’s locked up here in Wakanda. They know how powerful it is, they know the strength behind their technology that uses it. HYDRA found out what it could do and they connected the two together and somehow it works. So we wanted to use the same methods against them, to save her.” Tony said

“The vibranium microbots that we injected into her IV a couple of days ago, will essentially connect with the serum and will slowly push the serum down to her legs. This will give us the time that we need to wake her up and figure out how to fix this for good.” Bruce finished.

“I really hope so.” I said.

.

BUCKY’S POV

I was sitting in the chair, feet propped up on the side of her bed, holding her hand and watching some TV show that I couldn't understand. I was going in and out of consciousness pretty frequently, but it wasn’t sticking and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because every time I opened my eyes I was waiting for some kind of birthday miracle. I just wanted to see her eyes again maybe even her smile, but I could settle for one.

I must have finally given up because the next time I woke up the sun was starting to set and Steve was now sitting in the room.

“How’s it going?” He asked.

“The same as it has been for the last 200 days.”

“Well I know that you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday but I thought it would be nice to do a little something to hopefully bring up your spirits.” He pulled out a box and opened the lid, pulling out one of two cupcakes. He reached out to hand me one of them and I couldn’t help but think about the moment that we met two years ago.

.

Bucharest, Romania

March 10, 2015

BUCKY’S POV

Keep your eyes on the ground, hat pulled down low, don’t look suspicious. Be aware but don’t look paranoid. Don’t give anyone a reason to believe that you don’t belong there.

I kept these thoughts as a constant reminder, kept them right at the forefront of my mind. I escaped. I escaped and I’m okay.

I just had to keep moving, I had to find somewhere safe to live, somewhere where no one could find me. Was Bucharest far enough away from them? Could they find me here or do I need to keep moving?

I’m so tired of running. I’m tired. And hungry.

Just keep moving.

Just keep moving...right into someone.

I ran right into someone, the only downside to keeping your head down was that sometimes you couldn’t see who was right in front of you, especially if they’re not looking either. She had been holding something in her hands, a cupcake, I think, and it was now smothered between the two of us.

“Imi pare foarte rau.” (I’m really sorry.) She says first.

“Este bine.” (It’s good.) I didn’t want to make too much of a fuss about it but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel bad about ruining her pastry. I looked up at her to apologize as well, but couldn’t get the words out when I saw her face. She was beautiful, simple as that, easily someone that I would have dated back when I was normal. And yet at the same time she was somehow familiar which was strange and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I didn’t want to perceive her as a threat but I could have taken her down if needed. I really didn’t want to though...

“Apartamentul meu e chiar acolo, dacă doriți să curețe.” (My apartment is right there if you want to clean up.) The gesture was nice and under different circumstances I wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on her offer, not only because I was covered in frosting, but because I felt like I wanted to spend more time with her.

When I looked at her, I saw flashes of my past. They weren’t of her, obviously given my age and the fact that she couldn’t be over 25, but she reminded me of that time. How easy it was back then to be attracted to someone, to want to pursue a relationship, to be normal...

“Da te rog.” (Yes please) She shyly smiled back at me and let me follow her back to her apartment. I watched her as we walked and the strange thing I noticed was that she walked exactly the same as I did, eyes to the ground, head down low, trying to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible.

I followed her into this building that wasn’t the nicest place in the city but was much nicer than anything I had been staying in since I left them. We walked up flight after flight of stairs, still paying close attention to her and finding it strange that she wasn’t winded at all by the distance we had gone up. Maybe she was used to it? Maybe I’m overthinking everything?

I pushed the thought aside and she unlocked her door letting me into the apartment first. The place was much nicer than the building, she didn't have much but what she did have went together. There were no pictures of anything and no real decorations, just a simple layout, like she hadn’t been there long. I’m overthinking again.

“Do you speak English?” She asked amongst my inspection of her apartment. Her english sounded okay, but the Russian accent was heavy and more alarming than I would have liked.

“Yes.” I replied.

“That’s great. The bathroom is just down the hall, on the right.” She pointed to the hallway to the left of the door where I was standing,

“Thank you.” I quickly disappeared into the restroom, removed my backpack and grabbed a clean shirt to put on. I tried my best to rinse out the dirty shirt and dry it before putting it back in my bag, but it was just going to have to be a little wet. I was about to head out when I looked in the mirror one last time. I took in a deep breath and just reminded myself to remain calm. There was no way that she was HYDRA, they didn’t know where I was. There was no way for them to know.

Eventually I calmed down enough to step outside the restroom and right as I opened the door I saw her coming out of her room, in a new shirt and a bottle of water in her hands, but she seemed a little more nervous now...which made me nervous.

“So, I’m really sorry about the cupcake. The baker down the street had given it to me as a birthday gift.” She said, once again apologizing. She also seemed a lot more shy, having not looked me in the eye since we got into her apartment.

“It’s your birthday?” I asked, surprised.

“Yep.”

“Mine too.” When I said that she finally looked up at me.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So birthday boy, do you have a name?” She smiled at me but immediately tried to hide it. I just looked at her and I hesitated because I was paranoid and because I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to know my name, but then again HYDRA never called me by my name let alone my nickname.

“Bucky.”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” I tried to come off a little less tense but I think she could definitely tell that I was.

“Nice to meet you too. Can I get you anything? Water, food?”

“A water would be nice.” I was starving but I really didn’t want to impose, especially if she was an innocent bystander like I was trying to convince myself she was.

She made her way over to the kitchen and I absentmindedly followed her, just watching her move again. She was so graceful, there was just this sort of ease about the way she moved, almost mesmerizing. She looked back at me briefly to hand me the bottle of water and then grabbed a plum from a bowl on the counter.  

She took a big bite of the fruit, trying her hardest not to look at me as she thought real hard about something, wrinkles forming on her forehead from the effort. I watched her lips move, the act itself being more mesmerizing than her movements; It was such a strange action from me. Keep my eyes on the ground, head down low, easy steps to follow and yet I couldn’t help but look at her.

I had to distract myself so I opened the bottle of water and nearly chugged the whole thing.

“Can I ask you something?” She said, cutting the thick tension in the room as if she had a knife in her hands.

“Sure.”

“Have we met before? I know it’s a weird question and I don’t want to freak you out, but sometimes I have problems with my memory and I just feel like I have seen you before.”

“I don’t think we have but I’m kind of in the same boat as you. My memory is not in the best shape.”

“Then can I ask something else?”

“Okay.” Now she was making me very nervous. She hesitated before asking her next question, obviously just as nervous to ask.

“Do you know what HYDRA is?” I automatically took a few steps back, wanting to get as far away as I could.

“Who are you?” I asked, every single nerve on high alert and telling me to get away as fast as possible.

“So you do?” She seemed...scared. We couldn’t tear our eyes away from each other, watching each other intently.

“Yes.”

“Can I explain myself?”

“If you try anything, you'll be dead before you know it.”

“I’m a soldier, the very first. I was born on March 10, 1901. My father was in charge of the HYDRA Siberian Facility and he willingly gave me over to be experimented on. I don’t remember much after that, the only thing that keeps running through my head, the only thing that I have never forgotten was putting a bullet in his head. It was August 17, 1963.” She looked upset and I couldn’t help but relax a little at her words. She was like me, she was running from them. And for the first time in a long time I began to trust again.

“You’re a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“I am too. James Buchanan Barnes. I was born March 10, 1917. I fought in World War II with my best friend. I fell off a train and lost my arm. HYDRA found me and made me an arm of metal and then they made me their soldier.”

“I guess we really are in the same boat.” She relaxed too. The tension that had spiked as soon as she mentioned them was gone again and the thing that remained was that feeling from before, the attraction.

“It would appear that way.”

“So why are you in Bucharest?”

“About a year ago I had been on a mission. They sent me after the Avengers and I tried to kill my friend. I don’t want to hurt anyone and I don’t want HYDRA to find me. Anywhere I have gone just didn’t feel right and I was too nervous. Romania is what I thought of, something easy, familiar almost. I just got here but I want to start over really.”

“You can stay here if you want. I know it’s not ideal but I have a pull out couch and you wouldn’t have to pay for anything, at least until you get on your feet. And I’m sure we could help each other.”

“You want to be around someone like me?”

“We’re in the same boat remember?” She smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back, relief washing over both of us in waves. We would be okay.

.

God...her smile. It had had a way of lighting up a room. 

I just stared at the cupcake...thinking about her smile. 

Steve had left the room to find a lighter for the candle and I just held the pastry in my hand. 

A vanilla cupcake with white frosting and blue sprinkles. 

Her favorite. 

I laughed, how it was her favorite, I didn’t know. It was the only flavor she had ever tried. 

I don’t know what I was expecting the cupcake to do, but I stared and stared at it hoping it would...do nothing I guess. It’s a cupcake. It wasn’t meant to do anything. 

It made her smile though, so that was something. 

But not now. There was no smile now. Just a cupcake. 

I leaned over, elbows propped up on the side of her bed, my left hand holding up my head and the right holding the cupcake. I stared at the little cake decoration, declaring that it was my 100th birthday. Yippee for me. 

“You better not drop that on me.” I heard, whispered to me. It took me a second to realize what just happened. 

Now...some people would call me crazy for assuming first that it was the cupcake that had said that. Then again lets remember that the only other person who had been in the room had just been in a coma for 6 months and would be unstable and possibly kill us all if awoken from said coma. Also I probably could have allowed myself to leave the hospital every now and then so I wouldn’t go insane but that was a whole other issue. 

But no...it was definitely her who had said it. I don’t know how but she was awake. 

I genuinely smiled for the first time since we put her in a coma, placed the cupcake on the table beside the bed and grabbed her hand in mine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  

.

STEVE’S POV

I was really hoping that Tony’s plan worked. I told Bucky that I was leaving the room to get a lighter but I was kind of hoping that Y/N would be awake by now.

Tony said that these robots were in the right place and from what he could tell, she would be safe enough to wake up. So that’s what we did. 

We waned her off the coma medication and with the serum burning off most medications quickly, we thought she would be awake already. It took a little longer than we thought though. 

That was this morning, while Bucky was sleeping, and I had bought two cupcakes in the hope that she would be awake already but I guess we just had to give her more time. 

To make Bucky less suspicious of me, I walked back into the room within a reasonable amount of time and looked over at him. He was on the bed with Y/N, arms wrapped around her, his head resting on her chest and she was awake. She was so calm, just running her fingers through his hair. 

“Y/N?” I asked. 

“Hey Steve.”

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah. I’m not really sure about what happened, but he’s not really in the mood to tell me anything. He seems kind of angry.” She pointed at Bucky who had his eyes closed and had a scowl on his face. 

“Come on Bucky...you should be happy right now.” He sat up and glared at me. 

“I should be happy? I was happy and then realized that there was no natural way for her to be awake right now. All three of you perfectly explained that in order to wake her up we had to do some robot thing and something about moving the serum around. I know for a fact that I didn’t approve of that so then she should be asleep right? Not unless all of you lied to me and did it anyway. So I should be happy? I’ll be happy when you tell me that you didn’t do anything stupid, like expirementing on the one person I told you not to!”

“Bucky—” 

“No! I had one request in all of this. I said no experiments! No guessing, no trials and errors! Nothing but answers!”

“We didn’t have the answers! It’s been six months and we couldn’t keep doing this. There’s only so much failure we can handle before it’s time to try something else. I let Tony do this because you needed her to be awake and frankly, so did we.”

“Okay...I’m thoroughly confused now.” We both looked at Y/N, who was just taking in everything we said. 

So we stopped the argument for the meantime and took some time to catch her up on the last six months. She read all of his letters and Bucky seemed to calm down some, which was good. And while we explained everything it gave Tony and Bruce enough time to come to the room and explain the more scientific things, everything about the robots and the serum. 

She seemed to be following okay but I could see that she seemed a little overwhelmed by everything. 

“Why don’t we give the two of you a moment?” I said when the room was quiet. I ushered Tony and Bruce out of the room and we waited to see what Y/N wanted to do next. Everything was up to her at this point. 

. 

BUCKY’S POV

I was now sitting in the chair beside her bed and staring at the wall because I didn’t want Y/N to think I was mad at her. 

“Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.” I took a deep breath and tried to soften my gaze before looking at her. 

Even after being in a coma for six months, she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Seeing her smile, even though it wasn’t a full one, made me soften up; I felt my shoulders relax and my face unscrunched from its glare. 

“Hi.” She said. 

“Hey doll.” 

“There he is.” 

“I really missed you.” I felt my eyes start to tear up.

“Come here.” I climbed back on the bed, sitting right beside her as close as possible, and she grabbed my hands, holding them in hers. I just sat there, looking at her hands, feeling her touch again, but not really having anything to say and yet having so much I should say. “Why are you so upset?” 

“I just...I didn’t want them to do anything that could hurt you. And they went ahead and just did this experiment anyway, knowing that I had already said no and was not okay with trying this on you without more research to back it up. God knows, you’ve been experimented on enough and they couldn’t tell me if this was going to work or what the side effects were going to be and I didn’t want you to be in any pain.” I was like a fountain, just spewing everything I was feeling. I needed her to know everything. I needed her to know how badly I had messed up. 

“But I’m not in any pain.” 

“But you were...and everything was so bad and I didn’t know how to help you.” 

“Bucky…” 

“I hurt you. I had to hurt you to stop you. I had to break your arm so the whole building wouldn’t collapse on us. And then they had to put you under and you were gone...you were gone for six months!” I was sobbing by this point. I had pushed everything so far down that I didn’t realize just how hard I was beating myself up over everything that had happened. “They kept talking about the serum and how they didn’t know how it worked, they didn’t know anything other than what HYDRA had written down about the formula. And they said that they thought the best thing would be to activate you. To just straight up activate you and hope that the serum would burn away like it did the first time and yet they couldn’t even confirm that that would happen. So what, then you just do a quick little mission and all is fine? No! They don’t understand what we went through, they don’t understand what those words do to us or what we have to go through afterwards. I couldn’t put you through that, not after everything you’ve been through! All I ever wanted was for everything to be okay. I wanted you to be awake and I wanted us to move here so that everything could be like it was in Bucharest. I wanted you to be happy.” She just stared at me, knowing that I wasn’t done lifting the weight from my shoulders. “There was so much I couldn’t do. I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t stop Antonoff, I couldn’t find the answers to wake you up and I obviously couldn’t keep them from injecting some weird robots into you. I couldn’t do anything to help you.” 

“First of all...all of that is untrue.” She reached out and started to wipe my tears away. “You have helped me more than anyone ever could. You helped bring back all of my memories, you protected me when we left Bucharest, you fought for me when I was activated, but most of all you love me like no one ever has before. There are things that are just out of our control. Antonoff was never going to back down and even though we all knew he outnumbered us you still fought him. With the serum...there’s a lot to still understand and there are reasons that HYDRA never shared or even wrote down the things that were most important to them. And the robots, well I’m not exactly sure about those yet but it sounds like Tony, Bruce and Steve had the right idea. They were thinking of you, thinking about how they were going to get me back to you. So yes we’ve been through a lot, probably more than any one person should ever deserve to go through, but I’m not upset with you or with Steve or Bruce or Tony. What matters to me is that I’m here with you and I’m okay. We can still have that life that we always dreamed of and we’ll figure out a way to permanently fix this serum problem of mine. We just need to take each day a step at a time and we’ll get through this just like we always do.”  

“There’s just—”

“Nope.”

“But I—”

“No.”

“Y/N—”

She pulled me to her and kissed me the way I should have kissed her when I saw that she was awake. 

“This is all I want right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just—you were gone for so long. And I didn’t know what would be the best thing or the worst thing to do. I didn't want to hurt you and I didn’t want to make it worse. I just got so...scared.”

“You don’t have to shoulder this alone anymore. And you definitely don’t need to be scared, when are you going to learn that I’m always going to come back to you?”

“Maybe you should remind me.”

“You just want me to kiss you again.”

“Can you blame me?”

This time I kissed her, moving on the bed to lay down beside her so that I could feel as much of her as I could.

I pushed everything out of my head and just allowed myself to feel normal again, to love the woman that I loved more than anything in the world. It had been six months since I had kissed her, since I had held her, since I had done anything with her resembling the life we once had. It was this moment where the haze had cleared and for the first time in half a year that everything was okay.

.

Y/N’S POV

We kissed like two people starved. It was a mixture of, for me, not wanting him to feel bad about everything that had happened to me, for him, not having any real connection to me in six months, and genuine need to be close to one another.

We heard the door open and were cut off when Tony, who had his eyes covered, interrupted us.

“Person coming in! I don’t want to see any body parts that are normally hidden!”

“Tony.” Steve said, slapping his arm and making him look at him who wasn’t hiding his eyes.

“We just wanted to make sure everything was okay now.” Bruce said.

“Yeah everything’s good.” Bucky said to me with a smile on his lips.

“Good, we’re very happy that you’re awake Y/N.” Steve said, smiling at me.

“I am too. But I actually would be a lot happier if I could get some coffee.”

“You and your coffee.” Bucky mocked.

“You’re the one who got me hooked on it.”

“I know.”

“Do you mind?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

He climbed off the bed and put his shoes back on. I grabbed his hand before he was able to get too far and pulled him back to me one more time, giving him a quick kiss.

“Happy Birthday Bucky.”

“Happy Birthday Y/N.”

He gave me one more kiss before leaving me with the other three guys in the room.

“So I just have a couple of questions to ask before Bucky gets back.”

“Yeah?” Tony asked.

“What are the side effects of using these robot things? Or I guess having the serum so concentrated?”

“We actually don’t know, we weren’t able to test this outside of the lab.” Bruce confirmed my worry.

“I was just asking because...I can’t feel my legs.”

They just looked at me with horror in their eyes and fear that maybe they hadn’t been right in doing this experiment so soon.

And yet the most feared question, the one that was most likely in all of our minds: 

What was I going to tell Bucky?

.

Let me know what you think here

PART TWENTY-FIVE

[pinkevilbobdoesthings]

IT HALLOWEEN MONTH!!! Have monster!! Here’s “Hard Work and Science”.

Jester woke up with a groan. Her everything hurt. Every muscle, every joint, every nerve, and every inch of skin was sore. Not in a “oh please let the sweet kiss of death release me from this agony” way, but more in an “all I want in life is a hot bath” way. She tried to open her eyes, but the room was too bright. “Nnngh,” she moaned. Trying to get up, she found that her arms were strapped down to her bed. No, it was too firm to be her bed.

“Oh,” someone said. It was more of a sudden intake of breath than a word. Whoever it was mumbled something to themself.

“Mmmnngh, what’s going on?” Jester asked squinting to try to see where she was, but it was still too bright.

“You’re sentient,” the voice said like he could scarcely believe it.

Jester tugged at the straps again. “I’m what?”

“You’re sentient. You’re an intelligent being capable of independent thought.”

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Um, can you do something about the lights?” Jester asked.

“Oh, ja, here. I shouldn’t be surprised that you have some light sensitivity.”

Cracking an eye open, Jester found that the room was a lot more bearable. She looked around to see a sterile room. It looked almost looked like a hospital room, but there were all sorts of cages along the wall. “Where are we? Why am I strapped down?”

“Oh, this is my, well, I guess you’d call it my operating room.” The owner of the voice stepped closer. He looked like he was in his mid thirties and had long messy ginger hair. Dark circles hung under his blue eyes and almost looked like bruises against his pale skin. He wore a ratty old lab coat and a blue scarf that had seen much better days. With more sleep and a better coat, he could be handsome though. “As for the straps, they’re to keep you from accidentally pulling out your IV.”

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess. Wait, IV? What happened?” Jester asked. She tried to remember the day before, but it was a blur. The last thing she could remember was that she was spending the day with her mom.

The man turned away and rubbed his arm. His fingers and part of his right hand were all tinged black like a piece of wood that was partially burnt, and his arms were pocked with old puncture marks. “There was a car accident, Miss Lavorre. You were thrown from 50 feet out the window. They nearly didn’t find you.”

Jester leaned forward straining at the straps. “My mom! What happened to my mom?!”

“Marion Lavorre is alive and well. She sustained some bruising and lacerations, but they’ve already healed,” he said.

“Where is she? Can I go see her?” Jester asked.

The man shook his head. “She’s at home most likely, and unfortunately, you can’t see her.”

“Why not?” Jester demanded. “She must be worried sick. My mom needs me.”

“Miss Lavorre, you must believe me when I tell you that that’s an impossible request,” he said.

Tears began to well up in Jester’s eyes. She pulled at the straps holding her wrists down. “You don’t get it! She needs me!”

He let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Miss Lavorre, your mother has known about your death for the last three months. I don’t think showing up at her door would do either of you any good.”

Jester froze. “Death?” That made no sense. She was alive. She was breathing. There was no way she was dead.

“Yes, death. You died in the car crash. The reanimation of dead tissue is a complicated process, but one that I’ve managed to accomplish,” the man said. He said it blandly like it wasn’t a big deal.

It made no sense. There was no way he was telling the truth. Jester yanked at the strap on her right arm one more time and tore it off the bed along with a chunk of the bed. She stared at it.

“Could you do that before?”

Jester shook her head.

“A marked increase of strength of then. I didn’t even consider the possibility.” The man rubbed his stubbly chin. “How do you feel?”

Jester stared at him for a long moment and then began to cry. It was all too much and none of it made any sense. Sloppy tears poured down her cheeks.

Gentle hands removed the strap from her left hand. “Ah, I see your eyes are still capable of lubricat-” He stopped. “I’m sorry, I should start over. My name’s Caleb Widogast.”

“I’m Jester,” she said rubbing her eyes. She stopped and stared at her hands. They were completely blue. Jester looked at Caleb hoping for an explanation.

“I see you noticed.” Caleb looked away. “It was an unforeseen side effect. I was hoping to bring you back without any noticeable changes.”

Jester gripped the thin blanket that covered her. “Why did you do this to me?”

“Why? Because -” Caleb paused and looked down at his strangely tinted hands. “Because you were what I needed to prove my hypothesis. I’m sorry, but I had no noble reason in bringing you back.”

“What’s going to happen to me now?”

Caleb sat down at the edge of the bed. “I’m not cruel. You can stay here. I need to keep track of your vitals anyways.”

Jester looked around the stark and clinical room. It was enough to make her cry again.

“Or you could have my room. It’s not like I sleep much anyways. Though, I don’t know how much you’ll need to sleep now. Frumpkins 1, 3, 4, and 7 sleep much less than they did when they were alive, but Frumpkins 2, 5, and 8 sleep the same amount and Frumpkin 6 sleeps much more.” Caleb rambled talking with his hands animatedly. If Jester met him in a different situation, she would’ve been more curious about him, but all she wanted was to go home. He seemed to notice her and stopped. “Wait, here.” Going over to the cages, Caleb opened one and pulled out a small bengal cat. “This is the first Frumpkin. He died two years ago, came back a year and a half ago, and is my best boy.” Gently, he put Frumpkin onto Jester’s lap.

The cat purred loudly and kneaded Jester’s lap. She stroked the cat’s fur. “Is this a test or something? Do I still like animals?”

“I don’t know if you like cats in the first place, Miss Lavorre. I’m just not very good at people. Frumpkin’s better at helping them than I am,” Caleb said staring down at the foot at the bed. “I was hoping that he could help you.” And all at once he wasn’t a strange, distant mad scientist, but someone small and lost.

“He’s a very good boy,” Jester said.

Caleb nodded. “Ja, and he prefers having his chin scritched to his ears.”

Jester scratched under Frumpkin’s chin earning an even louder purr. “You didn’t think through this whole bringing me back to life thing did you?”

“Nein, I’m starting to notice that I haven’t. Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

Jester gave him her best smile under the circumstances. “I’ll have to be.”

Caleb frowned looking at her. “I won’t be upset if you’re mad at me.”

“I don’t like being mad at people.” Jester continued to scratch Frumpkin. “Besides, being mad at you doesn’t change anything.”

“Still, if there’s I can do for you,” Caleb said.

Jester looked up from Frumpkin. “I am kind of hungry.”

“Oh, ja. I’ve got something for that. Just wait a moment,” Caleb said over his shoulder as he left the room.

Jester watched as he left and then lifted Frumpkin off of her lap. “I’m sorry, but I have to check something.” With a deep breath steeling her nerves, Jester lifted the blanket off to look at the rest of her. A plain cotton hospital gown covered her. Caleb probably put it on her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her legs were the same blue as her arms. More concerning the large cuts held together by stitches. There were two on her left leg and one on her right. She checked her arms and found more stitches right below her left shoulder. “I guess I’m like Frankenstien now, right Frumpkin?”

“Actually, Frankenstein’s monster was made up of parts from multiple sources. All of you is Miss Jester Lavorre,” Caleb said as he came back in. “If we were to compare you to a work of fiction, the test subjects from Re-Animator would be more accurate.”

“Oh,” Jester said softly. “How long will these take to heal?”

Caleb set down two plates on the little rolling table next to Jester’s bed. “I don’t know if they will heal. Some of the Frumpkins have maintained their ability to heal, but not all of them.” Jester stared at him in horror, but he didn’t seem to notice it. “Now, I don’t know what your stomach can handle yet and I don’t expect you to eat all of this, but it’s all easy to digest.”

On the larger plate was a clumpy pile of rice, some partially squished pieces of banana, and a baggy of apple slices. The other plate just had two pieces of dry toast. It wasn’t the most appetizing looking meal, but Jester wasn’t going to complain. She took a bite of apple and grimaced. It tasted waxy and flavorless, but she put on a smile anyways. “Thank you, but um dry toast?”

“It’s easy on the stomach, but I guess you’re right about it not being the most appealing. Here.” He ducked behind a counter and came back up with a jar of peanut butter and a water bottle. “We’ll just add enough to make it easier to eat.” Caleb then added what must’ve been the thinnest layer of peanut butter known to mankind.

“Thanks.” Jester added two bits of banana and an apple slice to make a smiley face. It was happier than she felt and failed to improve her mood. She took a bite trying not to cry. Instead she changed the subject. “Why do your hands look like that?”

Caleb’s face turned red and he shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “Just an experiment that went poorly.”

“Sorry,” Jester said picking at her rice.

“It’s nothing to apologize for. Curiosity is important.” He put on a pair of gloves and pulled out a notebook. “How is it? Does it taste like what it did when you were alive?”

“I don’t know,” Jester said shrugging. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of the problem being in her tongue and not the bland food Caleb gave her. “I mean I guess it’s rice and toast.”

“Hmmm,” Caleb said jotting something down.

Jester tried to eat a few more bites, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Pushing the table aside, she looked over at Caleb. “Can I ask for something?”

“Ja, of course.”

“Can I have a mirror? To see what I look like?” Part of her was scared to see, but she had to know.

Caleb paled but nodded. He must’ve realized that she was going to want one as he grabbed a mirror off the counter. “You sustained some lacerations on your face, but they’re not as severe as the ones on your body and I was able to close them with surgical glue.“ Not looking at her, he handed her the mirror.

Jester held mirror for a long minute before raising it up to look in it. Looking would just make this nightmare all the more real, but she couldn’t avoid it forever. With a count to three, she brought up the mirror and gasped. “My freckles are blue!”

“Ja, they are,” Caleb agreed.

“That’s actually really cute.” Her hair was also blue too. Jester had always wanted to dye her hair that color.

Caleb nodded with a slight blush. “Ja.”

On further inspection, Jester still looked like her. The dimples on her cheeks still crinkled when she smiled and her eyes were still violet. Little bandages now graced her face though and must’ve covered the cuts Caleb mentioned. “Are these Captain Tusktooth bandages?”

“Ja, they were what I could find,” Caleb said looking away. “I wanted to make sure your facial lacerations were protected.” It was actually kinda sweet in a weird awkward way.

“Thanks. And I like the bandages. Captain Tusktooth is a lot better than a lot of people give it credit for.”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, it’s a great story and the animation is amazing.” His flat voice lost some of its monotone.

Jester grinned and leaned forward. “I know! Like that fight between Captain Tusktooth and Avantika was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“The new season’s going to start soon,” Caleb said. “I can’t wait for new episodes. I had the first three seasons on repeat while working on you.” He frowned. “I probably shouldn’t phrase it like that.”

Jester sat back. “Yeah. But, um, could we watch the new episodes together?”

“You’d want to?” Caleb asked. “With me?”

“I mean sure. It’s more fun to watch with somebody and it’s not like I have anywhere else to watch it,” Jester said.

“Oh right.” He looked almost disappointed. “If you don’t want to stay here, I’d understand.”

Jester bit her lip. “Do I have anywhere else to go?”

“You have a point there, but I’d help you find one. After I confirm that you are stable, of course.”

Jester gave it some thought. “I might take you up on that offer.”

Caleb looked almost disappointed but nodded. “Ja. Please understand that I don’t want you to feel trapped here.”

She already felt trapped in her own skin, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she just smiled at Caleb. If the gloves meant anything, maybe Caleb felt trapped too. Jester knew that she shouldn’t but she liked the idea of not being the only one who felt that way.

“If you need anything or have any questions, you can ask me,” Caleb said.

Jester gave it some thought. “Caleb, you said that you brought me back to prove a hypothesis. What was that hypothesis?”

He gave her the saddest smile in the world rubbing his arms. “Just that nothing can truly be lost forever. There’s something I need to take care of, but Frumpkin can keep you company.” Caleb gave her one last glance and left.

Frumpkin jumped up on Jester’s lap. She scratched his head. “Your owner is very strange.” And kind in his odd way. Jester wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, but she knew that she’d have all the time she needed to. “And who knows, Frumpkin? Maybe this will be fun.”

__________________________

Notes:

So yeah, I tried to make this a multi-chapter fic, but it just wasn't working. So one shot.

The title comes from "Live"by Paul and Storm.

[armsdealing]

TAGGED: i think it was @overlourdes​ so thank you! TAGGING: @undones​ (your pick) @apearlwrites​ (luisa) @neotropical​ (ivy) @starrdew​ (christie or anyone u’d like) @isolctions​ (veda) @streetsofsecrets​ (louis) + im tired, tag urself.

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

NAME -  isla meredith blackwell EYE COLOUR -  brown HAIR STYLE / COLOUR -  isla usually opts for protective hairstyles, wigs and hairpieces. she’s got a preference long dark blonde locks and wearing it in loose waves. (see here), but she’s got a nice collection of various shades and lengths and she always enjoys looking for new ones.   HEIGHT -  5′9″. 6′0 with when wearing her four inch heels. CLOTHING STYLE - i mean... when she isn’t rocking that medical couture? she likes a bit of variety. outside of her scrubs and comfortable shoes and lab coats, she likes to dress to the occasion, but always stylish. often it’s down to a nice pairs of jeans and a blouse. peplum tops, halter tops, sweaters (and turtlenecks), coats... i wouldn’t say they’re normally expensive clothes, but they look well cared for and quality. and she does have a few pieces that she’s proud of... like a pink satin duster. and now that we mention pink, she’s into a lot of colors, and that includes pastels. and while she does like to wear dresses, she doesn’t get many chances to. much like the wigs, she’s got a diverse wardrobe. clothes and dressing up is something she enjoys doing, when she’s got the time for it. since she often doesn’t, it’s not uncommon for her to just throw on sweatpants and a hoodie when she’s got to run to the grocery store. but like, nobody actually ever sees her doing that, so they just assume she’s got two moods: the scrubs, or really well dressed, until proven otherwise. BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE - she’s long legs with very strong thighs, and she likes her lips too. the former, coupled with her posture, makes her look statuesque.

LAYER TWO : THE INSIDE

FEARS -  losing the clinic, either due to money troubles or just the general mayhem that goes on in the neighborhood. losing patients is always a fear, and she gathers it’s a healthy one; it keeps her attentive.  GUILTY PLEASURE -  sugar in general. she likes to bake. and it’s perfectly fine to eat cookies at 2 am if you’ve been awake since 4 am from the previous day, in her opinion. BIGGEST PET PEEVE -  people who rip out their iv drips thinking that they’re in a movie and nothing will happen. that thing isn’t just in some random part of your body. it’s directly pinching a blood vessel. you’re gonna bleed. sometimes a lot. if you don’t care about yourself, at least mind the nurse’s time cleaning up after you. in general, people that hate hospitals and take it out on her + the med staff in general really get on her nerves, even if she’s trained to remain civil and calm.  AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE - making the clinic grow and for the neighborhood to thrive. maybe to the degree that she can take a little break... she’s been working nonstop for quite some time. that being said, only god can tell if she’ll actually take the break once she’s able to. she’s addicted to the job. feels useless when she’s not there. in 2020 she’d also like to get into the dating scene again.... but you didn’t hear that from me.

LAYER THREE : THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS UPON WAKING UP: "coffee.” WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MOST:  the patients currently under her care. money. the weird individuals occasionally standing in the street looking at her come in and out of the clinic. books. the various administrative errands she’s got to tend to.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: if she did everything she could.  WHAT YOUR BEST QUALITY IS: the determination, the kindness, the dedication. she really embodies the hippocratic oath. especially the 2019 update.

LAYER FOUR : WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES -  single.  TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED - to be loved properly. respect just so happens to be a requirement, in that case. BEAUTY OR BRAINS - she prefers values. DOGS OR CATS -  dogs.

LAYER FIVE : DO YOU…

LIE - not often. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF - on most days. BELIEVE IN LOVE -  sure. WANT SOMEONE -  in the general sense? sure.

LAYER SIX : EVER BEEN …

BEEN ON STAGE: she’s been on podiums and has had to make speeches at fundraisers. DONE DRUGS: yes, when she was younger. weed for the most part. CHANGED WHO YOU WERE TO FIT IN: not so much because she wanted to fit in, but because she wanted to be safe. following nasty responses from peers when she was a tween, she stuck to looking and acting like people wanted her to look and act up. this lasted for several years and it was around the time she was 27 that she began to present how she wanted to, which was more femininely. from that point to now it was a gradual process.

LAYER SEVEN : FAVORITES

FAVOURITE COLOR - purple FAVOURITE ANIMAL - rabbits FAVOURITE MOVIE - probably something dumb like 1993′s homeward bound. FAVOURITE GAME - words with friends.

LAYER EIGHT : AGE

DAY YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE - august 28. #she’s a virgo. HOW OLD WILL YOU BE -  i’m not answering that. AGE YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY - 17. DOES AGE MATTER -  yes.

LAYER NINE : IN A PERSON

BEST PERSONALITY - kind, patient, resourceful, loyal. BEST EYE COLOUR - brown BEST HAIR COLOUR - brown or black. BEST THING TO DO WITH A PARTNER - just being around each other works. talking, reading in silence together, cooking, cuddling in bed, sex, etc. 

LAYER TEN : FINISH THE SENTENCE

I LOVE - “abed.” that’s a friend of hers and colleague. I FEEL - “tired.” I HIDE - “nothing.” I MISS - “my mother.” I WISH - “things will get better.”