#figured it was appropriate to draw the doctor since i had my first physical in over five years this week.

[mrowsters]

Did my hand at @lemonomelette DTIYS! Here is pharma :3

Click for better quality cause tumbly made her crunchy?

[honeybadger-the-pop-witch]

I did a reading and made a sigil today with / for Lady Hecate.

I’ve had a lot on my plate recently and will continue to do so for about another year and a half ish. Plus my annual physical came with a suggestion to seek therapy out since I scored a little higher than my Doctor would have liked on the GAD scale they give you.

So this is a nice little reading to hear knowing all of that.

The sigil I tend to make first then figure out its meaning/use/energy later. But I thought it was appropriate to use the runes from my reading in it and a draw a key to represent Lady Hecate.

[adamarinayu]

Since I can’t draw right now (it’s like 1 AM) I decided I’d just write things down about Domestic DUno AU (I still don’t have a proper name for it!!) so here we go~

Info below the cut to spare the mobile users my ramblings~~

BACKSTORY STUFF 

-Donald first became PK as a teenager (14 or 15), pulling petty pranks and avenging perceived wrongdoings. He ended up accidentally becoming a hero after stopping a thief and unknowingly saving a young girl’s life, and he realized he could direct his temper, anger and frustration not at making other people miserable, but at protecting others. Gyro, who went to school with Donald (Donald and Della attended a private school that would accommodate their adventure schedule; Gyro, being the absolute genius he is, attended on a scholarship) was there and ended up helping, being the one to inadvertently provide PK with the weapon he fended off the criminals with. PK talked to Gyro and the two became partners in crime-fighting that way.

-After deciding to become a hero, it was small-town villains mostly that he dealt with. Thieves, and the like. He didn’t start fighting mutants and those kinds of things until he was 17 or so, and the Evronians didn’t show up until he was 18. This is when Scrooge gave him a summer job at his newly acquired tower, figuring since Donald didn’t want to go with him and Della on a three-month adventure (as Donald was needed in Duckburg, he couldn’t be gone for three months!!) then he may as well work and earn a little money. As Duckworth was still alive, Duckworth was in charge of the manor, so Donald didn’t need to worry about upkeeping the mansion.

-Donald met Uno after a failed attempt to fight the Evronians, and they partnered up, with Uno providing Donald with otherworldly advanced tech that Gyro... would probably understand if given the time and chance (come on, he built a time machine out of a bathtub, he could totally understand future tech). After the first battle with the Evronians that Donald eventually wins, he realized that the game had just just 10x more dangerous. Between working on his doctorate and interning for Scrooge’s science department (something the scientists working for Scrooge were salty about), Gyro didn’t have much time to work on new and improved inventions for PK so when Uno contacted Gyro about him stepping down from helping PK, Gyro agreed, acknowledging that the mysterious Uno Ducklair would probably be a better benefactor for the hero. He didn’t know PK’s identity, though, so he didn’t take the memory erasing candy. Instead he focused on his work.

-Years passed this way, with Donald and Uno working together. Of course Donald had his other adventures, such as with Jose and Panchito and Mickey and all them lovely folks, but Uno was his closest confidante and biggest supporter. He was the one he vented his frustrations with Della and Scrooge to, and the one to give him advice on how to deal with it and talk to them about it all.

-At some point during this time, Gladstone finds out Donald is PK. Of course it happens in the typical Lucky way- him finding out saved Donald’s life. Gladstone is shaken up by the knowledge that his cousin/brother is in danger every day and has almost died multiple times. Gladstone becomes a sort of third member of the whole Crime Fighting thing, yep, you heard it right, Cloverleaf is real here. He figures if he’s out in the field with Donald, then Donald will never die because of Gladstone’s supernaturally good luck. Uno, while frustrated with Gladstone’s unpredictable and illogical luck, accepts this. Donald is less keen because he doesn’t want Gladstone in danger’s path but when the gander makes up his mind it’s made up, yo.

-PK and Cloverleaf (CL from here on out) and Uno work together for 3 years before the Spear of Selene incident, where Donald is suddenly left with three eggs. Donald’s priorities now shifted, he quits being a hero and buys the houseboat so he can raise the triplets without Scrooge’s influence. Gladstone does what he can to help while trying to continue to protect Duckburg, and while watching CL on the news Donald has the sudden realization that Duckburg still needs him- new parent or not. So he (metaphorically!!) throws the eggs into their pram, rushes to Ducklair Tower, begs Lyla to watch the eggs for him and rushes off to CL’s aid. 

-After the danger is over, Donald collects the eggs, thanks Lyla for her help, then meets up with CL and Uno on the 151st floor where they have a serious conversation. Donald acknowledges that Duckburg still needs PK, but Della’s children also need him. The three eventually come to the conclusion that the kids would be raised by PK and Uno there in the Tower, where they would be safe- and they would be trained so they’re ready for anything thrown at them. (Gladstone is actually the one who is like “nah cuz you be their dad I’m not cut out for that, I’ll be the cool uncle, I don’t wanna live in the tower! No offense Uno” so it isn’t like Donald just decided to leave him out of the parenting)

-The eggs hatch and Donald names them sensible (AKA not Della’s list) names (and pronounces Llewellyn correctly dammit) and Donald and Uno have a time learning hands-on how to be parents. (“I’ve read twenty different parenting guides in the last five seconds and they’re all saying different things, Donald, WHAT DO WE DO-”) The whole “raising kids together” thing brings them even closer than before and forces them to have a chat about their feelings, too. 

-When the triplets are small and starting to run around, Uno baby proofs everything. He has a hard time keeping them from escaping their playpen (which is essentially a huge room with an amazing view of the city, he doesn’t know why they’re so intent on escaping). Then eventually the inevitable happens- both Don and Glad end up stuck on the other side of the world for nearly a whole month, and Uno realizes taking care of three toddlers is much easier when you have a body. So while they’re gone, he balances his time between advising them on their mission, taking care of the triplets and building an android body that can handle an AI as advanced as him (throw out that “an AI who is only good could never make a full person” shit cuz Uno can be petty as hell, he’s a whole ass person even without Due yo). By the time Don and Glad get back he’s testing his prototype. Donald is thrilled, of course- his boyfriend has a body now!

-The triplets gain a sister! Everett brings a child to them one day, a little Coronan girl who was for reasons I haven’t decided yet cast out of her family and Everett, with his weird Enlightened Powers shit, went and found her and brought her back to the people he knew would take care of her well (considering his own past failures...). And so the triplets have a little sister who is an alien! Yee! Yes it’s Asveya (Ve). She came to them when she was ~2 and the triplets were 3 or 4, and as she didn’t have a name Donald named her after a friend he met as a child, when he regularly adventured with Scrooge and Della, and whom he ended up meeting again as a young adult.

-Uno perfects the body over time as he learns more things about being a person (he very purposefully leaves out pain receptors, though he includes the best parts of being a physical person ofc- he wants his cake and he wants to eat it too!). Everett decides now that Uno has a body, it was time to introduce him as his son officially and hand the business over to him (stating that it’ll be good for the kids if at least one of their parents had a proper job and income, since savings don’t last forever), and as the kids get older Donald begins training them so they’ll be able to take care of/protect themselves if need be. Uno creates a training field/obstacle course that is fun and age-appropriate, and by the time they’re ten they’re like little superheroes in training. They can give Webby a run for her money. Ve is less interested in being like PK and more interested in being like Uno- AKA the techie behind the gadgets.

-The triplets are already playing with some rudimentary pieces of tech Ve made, playing like they’re superheroes (or villains, gotta have someone to fight!). Uno finds out when he reviews the Tower footage and immediately confiscates anything that can be dangerous, but lets them keep the more innocent stuff.

MODERN DAY STUFF (AKA the time the show takes place)

-As the kids got older Donald and Uno allowed them more freedom, even letting them go out on their own (with the promise of being back before dark, not telling anyone what their parents did for a living, they all stuck together and they didn’t speak to strangers beyond what was necessary). When the triplets were 10 and Ve was 8 or 9, Uno learned that a powerful artifact (not the gem) was in Atlantis and that if a villain got their hands on it, it would be... very bad. So Donald decides it’s time to put on his metaphorical adventure shoes again and go get it. By this time Gladstone got trapped in the casino (Uno has been looking for him, after not hearing from him for over a week) and Uno had a Big Business thing to attend, real important too, so they talk about getting a babysitter for the weekend they’ll be gone. The kids manage to convince them they don’t need one, as they’ll be safe in the 151st floor (“We’ll be safer there than anywhere else, right, Uncle Uno?”). Donald tried to call Lyla but she was unfortunately in the field, so he agreed to let them stay home on their own until Uno got back (Uno did the math and figured he could stay for a few hours to just make a good faith appearance, talk business with some stooges and then come home the same day).

-Of course, the kids get caught. Uno had already left out for his business thing at like 5 AM, and Donald was about to head out to Atlantis in one of the Duckmobiles. He happened to check on a whim the back of the mobile, where he found his surprised ducklings staring wide-eyed up at him. He knew then that he needed to cash in on a favour- he called Beakley and then drove the protesting children to the mansion. (“Come on, Unca’ Donald!” “It’s a mansion! We wanna go to the lost city, too!” “Come on, we’ve been doing real good in training!” “Please, dad? We promise we’ll listen!”) The excitement over meeting THE Scrooge McDuck is overshadowed by the disappointment that they can’t go on this mission.

-Besides, who cares about a mansion and a rich adventuring duck when your parents and uncle are not only rich adventurers, but they’re also superheroes???

-Donald gives them a forehead kiss goodbye and heads off, and Scrooge has Beakley put the kids in that old room. “It’ll only be a few hours” they said. “Until Uno gets back.” Unfortunately, Uno calls Louie and tells the duckling there’s been a problem and he won’t be back until later- Donald already informed him of the changed arrangements and he’s already contacted Beakley.

-The kids decide to escape the old room, putting their hero training into action, but are ultimately swept up into Webby’s trap. Webby is super excited to meet them when she realizes who they are (though she has no idea who Ve is), and she cuts them down from the net without them having to escape themselves. The kids know they’re not supposed to let anyone know about the “hero family” thing so try to act like normal kids, though it becomes apparent Webby doesn’t know how to be a normal kid either.

-Through shenanigans, the children inspire Scrooge to adventure again, and Dewey lets slip about lost cities and Scrooge has a moment of realization. Thus, he drags the kids to Atlantis with him. While there, the kids each get a chance to show off their moves (which they’re SUPPOSED TO HIDE but you know, when arrows are flying at you ain’t got no time to hide). Donald is pissed when he notices them in Atlantis, and Uno is pissed when he calls Donald and learns the kids are in Atlantis, right where they are NOT supposed to be.

-Things pretty much follow the episode, though with the triplets able to hold their own and Donald gunning for a completely different artifact. When they escape and get back to the surface with their respective artifacts, they’re met by a livid android who absolutely chews Scrooge out for dragging four ten year olds and an eight year old to a dangerous place like that.

-Donald decides that it might be okay for the kids to visit with Scrooge sometimes, to get a little real-world experience, and at precisely that moment something crashes into the 151st floor of Ducklair Tower. Uno is absolutely furious (“MY TOWER???”) cuz that’s gonna take a bit to fix- at the very least it’ll appear to take a while- and when the kids question “what now?” Scrooge offers up some rooms in the mansion. The kids are excited cuz they’ll get to live with Webby and explore a new place. Donald and Uno say “just until the tower is fixed” (Gladstone had Donald’s boat at the time he went missing so Donald doesn’t have it) which is good enough for the kids.

-Scrooge being sus of Uno for like a whole arc cuz he’d never heard of Uno Ducklair before recently and also his nephew?? got married??? 

-Gladstone finally gets a message out to Don and Uno for help, and they go immediately- but not before Scrooge makes it a family adventure. Scrooge is disparaging of Gladstone, but Donald is just worried about his cousin. They manage to save Gladstone without pseudo-sacrificing anyone. Scrooge gets a little sus when they get back to Duckburg, and days later the missing Cloverleaf has shown up again. 

-HDLV ended up spilling the truth to Webby as she got closer with them, but they swore her to secrecy. Of course Beakley found out because Webby is a terrible liar.

**So basically Donald + Uno parents, a kid that calls them her dads, good Uncle Gladstone, Brotherly Gladstone + Donald, Competent Cloverleaf, PK + Cloverleaf teamup, little-hero triplets. Gyro will end up teaming up with Gizmoduck when Fenton takes up heroing, too, just like Launchpad teams up with DW (DW’s story for this AU will be different, also, just a heads up) and basically all their combined kids become a badass team of children (Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Ve, Boyd, Gos, and of course Lena and Violet join in later...) Gyro teams up with Gizmoduck because every hero needs a tech guy (even heroes who are also scientists....) and he’s not only very capable, he’s worked with a hero before so he knows the ins and outs :D

However it is now 2 AM and I need to sleep so I’m gonna end my musings here but I am thinking of them so much right now I’m

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Spencer Reid / Uncertainties

Prompt: Kissing tears away 

Summary: Everyone is afraid of the uncertain, but no one more than a man of facts and statistics -- Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings: Angst + Fluff, comforting, Spencer’s headaches, this man deserves love, mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia), I make a doctor who reference lmao

Spencer Reid was a man of many thoughts. And that was a clear understatement. 

A lot of his thoughts were spoken — facts given freely, statistics that spewed from his mouth, and certainties conveyed without a bit uncertainty. But these were facts, facts he had surrounded himself in carefully constructed walls, buildings, and bridges, until it became a labyrinth. A perfect solitude of his own making — certainties were certain, unlike most things in his life. 

Including you. 

"Spence, can I sit with you?" His eyes flitted up from the book he was reading, finding you sitting before he even had a chance to open his mouth. 

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice," but he smiles, and your eyes twinkle at his teasing. 

"Why wait when I know the answer is yes?" 

And you were right. The answer was always yes when it came to you — that much was certain. At least according to Morgan and Garcia. 

"Why aren't you in your office?" You crossed your arms, brow creased in frustration. 

You sigh dramatically, "Penelope brought her boyfriend by and now they have completely taken over my space," Pout, as you rest your chin against your hand, "it's fine because it's Pen, but it's just a little nauseating to be around a couple that often. I think he’s spent more time there in the last week than I have in the last month." 

He snorts, "I didn't know love caused nausea," the corner of his mouth twitches, and you roll your eyes. 

"It does when you're painfully single," you sigh dramatically, shaking your head, “Side-effects include nausea, fake vomiting, and contemplation and eventual purchase of noise canceling headphones. Only cure in my case — a date.” 

"Then get a date?" He offers. The words left his mouth without a second thought, ignoring the twinge in his chest at the thought of you with someone else. 

You raise a brow, "You offering, Doctor?" 

He blinks, a heat climbing his neck, and he's all too painfully aware of how your eyes linger on the blush that's undoubtedly spread across his cheeks and the graze of your teeth against your bottom lip. 

"I-I-" but you wave him off. 

"It's okay, Spence," you begin to get up, but the question remains very much in the air, an albatross wrapped around his neck, squeezing and squeezing. 

"Wait," he says your name, giving you pause as he licks his incredibly dry lips, "I am," he manages, heart beating against his ribs, "offering that is." 

The indelible tension becomes even more unbearable as you blatantly stare at him, becoming more and more difficult not to tug at the collar of his button up — regretting the choice of a sweater vest combo with how unbearably hot its become. 

But then your face lights up, eyes wide and lips broken in an unabashed grin, "What time?" 

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to that small voice in the back of his head, that sounded awfully like Morgan, to take a chance. Because then he wouldn’t have learned that you majored in Linguistics and English Literature. He wouldn’t have learned that your undergraduate thesis was on the parallels of  Beowulf and Tolkien and the meaning of brotherhood. He wouldn’t have learned that your nose wrinkles very adorably when you try a new dish. He wouldn’t have learned that he liked how your voice got louder when you were passionate. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. 

But he was, he realized one morning, as your fingers carded through his thick curls one afternoon, hoping that the dreaded phone call wouldn’t come and interrupt your dinner plans tonight. You hummed and gasped appropriately as you listened to him read a new book you had picked up (as it was your turn to choose a book for the two of you to read this week). And it was when you had plucked the book from his hands, peering down at him, his head against your legs, with a soft smile and wide eyes, he realized that he didn’t remember a single moment of his life that had felt so right. 

Until it didn't. 

He knew the symptoms. Sensitivity to light. Persistent headaches. An inability to focus. Irritability. Hallucinations. And he knew the odds. His leg bounced up and down in the waiting room — the one time facts did not play to his advantage — eyes squeezed shut. Soon, he would begin to forget things. Become confused or delusional. And he would lose one of the only things he felt that had some control over — his mind. Pain splintered through his head, as yet another doctor called him in for his results. 

Inconclusive, again. The fifth doctor to have run a litany of tests on him: physical, emotional, and psychological — but no cause. 

He doesn’t remember the doctor’s name, her introduction stymied by the red hot throbbing in his frontal cortex, “Do you have anyone to support you during this time?” his fingers dug into his forearms. 

“I do,” he manages, and he can almost feel your touch, your presence, as if you were here. Your arms wrapped around him, chin pressed into his shoulder, but your eyes — eyes full of pity. He still hadn’t told you. 

But it didn’t mean you hadn’t noticed. 

"Spencer," you wave your hand in front of his face, and he looks up from his book, "I've been calling your name for five minutes." 

"Sorry, I was reading," he murmurs, sliding his bookmark into his book, shutting the book in his lap, "what's wrong?" 

Your brow furrowed, arms crossed across your chest, "I should be asking you that," 

"What is that supposed to mean?" He knew he was wrong — he knew he had been short, that he had been angry, that he had been silent, but he didn't care. He couldn't find the energy to. All he could think about was the dull ache in his head, the echoing in his ears, the fear thrumming through his body, possibilities running over and over and over— 

"Spencer," you ease the book through his fingers, "I know you — you would have blown through this entire book by now, but you've been reading the same page for the last half hour." 

He snatches the book from your hand, hardback clattering against the floor, "You don't know anything," 

"Spencer—" 

"No, no—" he holds his voice steady, holding the fracturing pieces of his facade together, "just leave." 

"I'm not leaving you," your voice cracks, not bothering to hide your hurt, "not until you tell me what's going on." 

He looks up and sees your gaze waver. And he hates himself. He hates himself for hurting you. He hates himself for allowing himself to love you. He should have learned his lesson. He should have learned when his parents separated, when his mom’s delusions and paranoia turned her from the woman who read him stories of knights to a woman who barely remembered her own name. He hates himself for being too weak to break up with you.

“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind?” he whispers, the dull ache in his brain quelling for a moment, the tightness in his chest replacing it.

You blink, eyes glassy, sliding in place beside him, his eyes falling to his lap, “Why would you be afraid of something so beautiful?” 

“Because I don’t know what it’s going to become,” he cradles his head in his hands, “I’ve been having headaches. Consistently. I can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I am...hearing things that are not there. I—” 

“Spencer,” you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me before?” 

He laughs, the sound hollow in his chest, “What is there to tell? Doctors can’t tell me what this is. They can’t tell me if it’s—-” he breaks off, and he refuses to look up. He refuses to see the pity in your eyes — the fear. 

“Baby, you don’t know what this even is right now, we—” 

“What else could it be?” he snaps, ringlets of pain coursing through his head, “I know the chances. I’ve known the chances since I was seven, when I found out my mother had schizophrenia when I overheard my parents arguing again. I’m the same age as she was when she first started showing symptoms.” 

Schizophrenia. The word hangs over the conversation like it has hung over him his entire life. A part of him thought maybe, somehow, if he was smart enough, even if he had it, he could outsmart it — maybe he could overcome it. But a few weeks of these headaches any delusions of grandeur — except for the ones yet to come, “Spencer, even if it is schizophrenia, it is treatable. It is manageable with medication and proper treatment. More importantly, no matter the odds, no matter what this is, I’m going to be there—” 

“Until you’re not,” 

“Spencer,” 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” His words are soft, as he remembers the warmth of his mother, curled up beside him, her soft voice reading stories of Arthur and his round table, “to watch someone you love become someone else — someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Someone angry, someone paranoid.” 

“I don’t know what it’s like, Spencer, I’m sorry, but I know I’d never leave you. Even if you become someone else, even if I lose you altogether — I love you. For who you are, and you will become,” you reach for his face, but he turns away, licking his lips, “I always will.” 

“Nothing is certain,” he sighs, running his hands down his face, “But I know I can’t make you do this—” 

“Spencer, please,” you lean down, prying his fingers away from his face, and forcing him to look at you — tears running down your cheeks freely, your nose wrinkling as you sniffled, “shut up.” 

“I—” 

“I know nothing is certain — nothing ever is. But this is how I feel right now, in this moment,” you draw closer, and he allows you to — taking solace in your closeness and warmth. Your lips brush against his forehead,  “We will figure this out, together.” 

A tear slips down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—” 

“I don’t have to do anything,” you press a kiss to his cheek, right as the tear rolls down, “and I never do anything I don’t want to,” the corners of your mouth tug at your lips, “remember the Doctor Who convention?” 

“I remember compromising my choice,” you laugh. 

“And I remember you being the cutest David Tennant ever,” his fingers brush away the streaks of tears left behind on your cheeks, “I don’t need to have a Tardis to know we are going to get through this.” 

“Well, actually—” you raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” his hands cup your cheeks now, breath fanning against your lips, as he kisses you. Tears roll over his fingers, as your fingers rest over his own, “and that is a certainty.”

[writing-hound]

Tiniest glint of Hope:

Reading: Daddy!Protective!Pansexual!Hamish Duke X Little!Trans!Reader (FTM)

Warnings: Hard/Soft Core Fluff | Profanity | Soft Violence | Slurs (Fag, Queer, Etc.) |

Summary: Hamish and Y/N Have never met before in their life. Maybe in class, but that doesn't really count considering he is your professor. You liked Professor Duke in a way that isn't appropriate for school. But who's to judge you? As the weeks went by, A few male students have been picking on you; they were hearing rumors that you were a girl and now wanting to be a guy. What happens when they get too physical?

Word Count: 2443 words

Abbreviations: Y/N = Your Name | Y/E/C = Your Eye Color | E/C Eye Color | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

A/N: If you want more content, comment below! I love to hear from you guys!! I might make another part to this, so watch out for it in the near future!!

I have been in this class for a while now. This was Ethics, one of the classes I just got signed up for because I had some free room in my schedule. And boy was it the best decision of my life. The only problem was that there were a couple of boys in the class who liked to harass me. One time they even tried lifting up my shirt to see if I had tits. Which I don't, since my parents saved up for me to have top surgery.

Best day of my life.

Now, I sit in Ethics, listening to Professor Duke talk about things I don't really understand, but I jot down the notes anyways. When The professor turned around to write something on the white-board, something was thrown at me. It hit me on the left side of my head and I gave a very low, very quiet growl out of reaction.

What was their problem? I thought as I picked up the waded piece of paper and read it.

Dear Loser, You will never be a guy. Signed, real guys.

I rolled my eyes and crumpled it up again, glaring at the small group of boys that are a few tables away. That made them all laugh.

"Ms.- er, Mr. Y/L/N? Something you want to share with the class?" Professor Duke asked, his face showing mild curiosity and concern. I shook my head. "No," I said in a quiet voice. I never liked being called on, especially in class.

Professor Duke gave a shrug, and resumed his lecture. I sulked in my seat until the bell rang for class to be over. As soon as it did, I was up and out of my seat and heading for the door. When I reached the hallway, I looked around to see if anyone was there.

Coast being clear, I leaned against the wall for physical and emotional support. I wanted to cry. It was too much. The paper was still clutched in my shaking hand as I thought about it. And the more I thought about it, the more angrier and pissed off I got.

Suddenly, hands were on me. Boisterous laughter carried through the halls as I was dragged into the boys bathroom and shoved up against one of the walls. Whoever it was had ahold of my shirt and my glasses were knocked off, making the figures fuzzy.

But I can only imagine who it could be, based on drowning in cheap cologne and testosterone. I tried to scream, but a hand was over my mouth.

"Scream and you'll get hurt," One said gruffly.

"Hey, boys, shall we see if this 'man' has tits?" The one holding me asked the others. I began to cry as I tried to kick at my captor. I bit the boys' hand, and he gave a yelp as he drew it back out of reaction. This gave me enough time to give out a scream before the boy popped me in the face with his palm. When he did that, I felt my nose bleed, it running down my 'Doctor Who' shirt. By this time I was hyperventilating, my lungs refusing to bring in air.

I needed my inhaler.

"What did I fucking tell you, you fag?" the boy hissed in my ear. "Fucking queers thinking they can do whatever they want, and whoever they want-" The boy raised his fist this time, intending on hitting me, but was stopped as the bathroom door opened. I didn't see anything except a blurry figure, but the voice sounded so familiar.

"What's going on in here, boys?" Professor Duke asked. "I really hope you're not picking on Y/N."

The boy holding me dropped me real fast. "No, we were just showing this fa- I mean, we were talking to Y/N ," He said. I took a deep breath as they backed away and past the Professor.

As they left the bathroom, Professor Duke rushed over to me where I was heavily leaning on the wall trying to bring air into my lungs. I fumbled for my backpack, trying to get my inhaler out, but my hands were shaking too hard for me to grab ahold of anything. My shallow breaths quickened as I tried to breath, fear taking hold of me and making my breathing worse.

I'm gonna die.

Professor Duke's hands found mine as he looked at me. "Hey, it's okay," He said quietly, taking my bag and sifting through it to find my inhaler. Once he found it he helped me use it, taking two deep breaths.

"T-thank you, Professor D-Duke," I stuttered out, my heart beginning to stop racing in panic. The professor gave a shrug. "It was nothing," He said, giving a sweet smile. "Did you need me to walk you to. . . somewhere?" He asked.

"No, i-it's fine-" I cut myself off as I heard the bathroom door open. I jumped at the sudden noise, flinching. Professor Duke noticed and faced the person who was there, standing in front of me protectively.

"Oh, hey Hamish," The person said. He was tall, had dark, short hair, and had that goofy aura around him. Other than that, he was a blur without my glasses. This person obviously knew him well enough to be on a first name basis.

What if he's gay? The thought came fully formed in my head, and I pondered it.

"Hey, Randall," Professor Duke said, which I almost missed. "What are you doing in the bathroom?" Randall asked. "Isn't it a bit too, unsavvy for your taste?" He joked.

Obviously Randall hadn't seen me yet, considering how small I am compared to Professor Duke. "Um, I was helping out Y/N. Some guys took her- I mean, them in here to do... I don't know what," He replied, stepping out of the way so this Randall person could see me. Randall's eyes widened as they saw me.

"Dude, you gotta wash your face," Randall said, stating the obvious.

"Thanks, Sherlock," I mumbled sarcastically. "Anyone seen my glasses? They were knocked off and I can't really see without them," I asked the two. Both guys started to look. Professor Duke found them outside of the bathroom on the ground. "Here," he said gently, holding them up for me to take the gold blurry shape I knew was my glasses. My glasses looked like those ones my grandparents wore, and when I saw them in gold, I had to take them. I didn't care how I looked, I loved them that much.

Finally being able to see, I looked at both my Professor and his friend Randall. Randall was kind of cute, in that goofy, puppy sort of way.

I turned around and began to clean myself up. I first did my nose, which didn't take long, and then I started to wipe the blood off of my shirt.

"You guys don't have to be here," I said, not looking at them, but through the mirror. "Thank you for coming to my aide, Profe-" I was cut off by Professor Duke. "Please, call me Hamish," he said.

"Okay, Hamish, thanks for coming to my aide, but you don't have to be here puppy guarding me." I finished, not looking up and focusing on my shirt.

Hamish and Randall both gave a laugh. Once it had died down, Randall said, "Let Ham take you home, it will be much safer for you,"

Hamish gave Randall a look of 'why did you do that?' and looked back at me. I could have sworn there was a glitter off hope in his eyes.

I gave it some thought. I want him to walk me home, but at the same time it would be a big waste of time for him...

"Ah, what the hell," I finally said. "You can walk me home, I guess," I almost didn't catch the smirk that Randall gave Hamish, and in return, Hamish's glare. I gave it no thought as I grabbed my bag, tossing my inhaler into it, and walked out of the bathroom with both boys in tow behind me.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

On the walk to my housing, things were quiet.

"If you don't want to walk me home, I get it, you can leave," I said, anxious thoughts making me think I am a waste of time. Hamish stopped, causing me to stop as well. I looked over at him.

"Hey, I want to do this. If I didn't, trust me, you'll know," Hamish said. We continued walking in silence, until this time, he broke it.

"Do you always get bullied like that?" Hamish asked.

"Yeah, most times though it's notes, rude comments, or drawings. It was never like that, though." I responded. "That was a first," I joked uneasily.

"What kind of notes? Like the one today you were reading in class?" He asked, this time there was a hint of a growl. Weird.

"Yeah, I still have it for some reason-" I pulled out the wade of paper and handed it to Hamish, our hands brushing for a moment. He read it and as he did, his hands curled into fists. "Fucking idiots," he seemed to growl.

I saw his eyes flash a light blue, then back to his regular blue-grey. I think I'm smoking too much weed, I thought as I quickly looked away. "How long has this been going on?" Hamish asked, crumpling the paper in his fists.

"For a few weeks now. It was whenever those morons heard that I had gotten top surgery-" I cut myself off. "I don't think you really want to hear about it," I mumbled, looking away and picking up my pace.

Hamish easily caught up to me, his long legs eating up the distance fairly easy. "No, I asked. What's 'top surgery'?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, uh, top surgery is when a, um, girl like myself doesn't want breasts anymore-" I gave a sigh. "I'm bad at explaining things," I said. "It's like... reconstructing your chest to accommodate for what you want," I said, looking down at my shoes.

"I think I got it," Hamish said. "You don't want to be a girl anymore, right?" He asked. I gave him a nod. "Yeah. It never really felt right," I said, giving a smile. "I don't really care what people call me really, if they knew me as a girl before, and they slip up and call me 'her' or 'she', I wouldn't care. It's just how people disrespect me, like those boys, that bothers me," I said.

Hamish looked at me with soft eyes. "I promise that it will never happen again," I scoffed. "What will you do? Walk me everywhere?" I asked, jokingly. "I don't think that would be wise, considering that you are a teacher and all, kids will start talking,"

"Let them talk then," Hamish said, strolling to a stop. I stopped in front of him. "Why do you care so much about me anyways?"

Hamish seemed torn in telling me something. He finally gave a sigh, opening his mouth. "Well," He started slowly. "What if-" He cut himself off and rethought what he was gonna say. "What if I liked you?"

"Are we speaking hypothetically? Or reality?" I asked. "Cause I highly doubt reality," I scoffed. Hamish didn't laugh. "Oh, you're actually serious-" I sat down on a nearby picnic table, looking at the guy in front of me. "What makes you like me? Hypothetically speaking, of course," I added.

"Well," Hamish said, sitting beside me on the picnic table. "I like your quirkiness," he said. "I also like that you are a lover and put people before yourself," I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah?" I asked, looking at the blond boy sitting beside me.

Hamish gave a nod. "Yeah," he said, looking back at me. "You don't mind that I am trans?" I asked him, our faces inches away from each other.

"No," He whispered just as he closed the gap and kissed me. I was stunned for a minute, thinking that this might be just a dream and I'll wake up. Hamish seemed to notice my hesitance and began to pull away. I quickly pulled him closer and kissed him back. Hamish smiled and we moved our lips in sync with each other. After a moment, we pulled apart.

"Where did that come from?" I asked, not looking at Hamish. He didn't say anything as we both sat there, not knowing what to say, and if we did, not knowing how to say it.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" Hamish asked. "Like, go out to dinner or get a drink?"

I looked at him with a smile. "Sure, why the fuck not, right?" I said, laughing. We both got up and continued to walk to my place. Halfway there, somehow, we ended up holding hands. As we reached the door, Hamish and I stopped. He faced me as I stood there, not wanting to go inside alone.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Hamish murmured softly. I shifted my weight from my right foot to my left awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess so," I said, looking down at my shoes once more.

I felt fingers lift my chin up so I could look Hamish in the eyes. "I also guess this is goodnight," He whispered. I only gave a nod, unable to trust my voice. Hamish bent down and placed his lips on mine softly. My breath hitched as he bit my bottom lip.

I stood there, with my Ethics professor, kissing him goodnight. What a wild thing to think about, I thought as I kissed him back. Pulling away, I looked into his blue-grey eyes as he looked into my Y/E/C eyes.

"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, Hamish," I said, backing up and running into the wall with my back. I dug through my pocket and got out my keys. I swiftly got them in and unlocked the door while Hamish stood there watching with an amused look. I walked inside, but turned around and gave him a smile.

"Good night, Y/N," Hamish said in response as I looked at him. He turned and walked away, so I closed my door. I hit my back against it, sliding down the grain of the wood as I thought about today's events. Did I really kiss Hamish? I asked myself, touching my lips with the tips of my fingers.

I gave a squeal in delight as I sat there.

I kissed Hamish Duke.

It finally dawned on me that he might actually feel the same way as I feel about him.

[profishionals-have-standards]

outlaw.txt

figure I may as well post some of the reference notes I made for a gift exchange whee. includes a few design notes as well as a little writeup about her interactions with the mercs

-Her main weapons are 4 revolvers of unspecific design (think cool, vintage wild west looking ones though. possible reference: the Mysterious Magnum from Fallout:New Vegas), a lever-action hunting rifle (reference: brush gun/Medicine Stick also from Fallout:New Vegas...can you tell where I get my knowledge of guns?) and a long, brown leather bullwhip. The 4 revolvers are kept in holsters on her sides, the rifle slung around her back, and the bullwhip coiled and attached to her belt by her right hip.

-The only things really missing from her physical reference are the fact that she sometimes will cover her face with a black bandanna, especially in cold weather. She also typically has a medium-sized leather bag strapped to her belt that sits at the small of her back. Finally, she'll also occasionally wear black fingerless leather gloves just for the hell of it.

-The following design elements on her current picture are not set in stone and can be stylized however you like: the clasp of her bolo tie (base design is a thunderbird, feel free to look up Navajo silver jewelry if you want inspo for the kinds of stuff she'd have), the general shape of her hat, her belt and belt buckle, and the designs on her boots. She also wears grey denim jeans by default but they can be any normal jeans color if it looks better. Basically I'm not super picky as long as we get the general character concept. If you draw her with the leather jacket you are absolutely free to simplify the design, as long as it has some cool leather fringe. It's also worth noting she doesn't, at this point in her life, have really any winter-appropriate clothes apart from the one coat, which means she can wear whatever you want!

-Not indicated well on the reference, but she's about 5'8"--just a bit taller than Engie (we love and support tiny Engie lmao).

-Scars (absolutely not required and probably won't even be visible but I'm referencing them anyway): small one near right eye, from childhood bullwhip training; two jagged lines on right forearm, unknown (she makes up a different story every time); old bullet wound on right outer thigh that healed terribly.

Quick summary of her established relationships with/opinions of each the mercs: -Sniper: oh boy. handsome aussie who had her eye from day one--no, don't make it weird, quit it Vance! definitely don't start fallin' for your teammates like that, that never ends well.....too late. -Scout: kinda a dumb kid but he's alright. great partner in crime for shenanigans around the base. he can be a bit obnoxious for her at times, but she supposes it's a passable change of pace from the last many years of living basically alone. lowkey jealous he's the only one on the team who's faster and more agile than she is, but she can and will trip him with her whip from time to time just to show him up. she also would definitely wingman for him just to get him to move on from Miss P tbh. -Pyro: she feels very bad about their initial meeting (accusing them of burning down their house) and they're the only merc that gets complete amnesty from her bullshit. pyro has to mom-friend her now and then, and is also one of the only ones who can get away with that. she was able to pick up understanding them pretty quickly, which only solidified their friendship. -Spy: not a fan, honestly. rather than underestimating him, she recognizes exactly how dangerous he is and he reminds her far too much of a lot of men she's been tasked to kill over the years. he gets under her skin easier than she'd like, which doesn't help either. fun fact, if she found out about the business with Scout and his ma, she'd probably try to kill spy for real :) -Heavy: they don't interact a ton, but he's more polite than half these goons and she respects that. she's also a bit intimidated by the fact he's one of the only teammates she absolutely could *not* take in a fight. he's also been refreshingly normal about having a woman on base from day one, and she wouldn't be surprised if he mentally relates her to his sisters a bit (based on what she's heard about them, that's a compliment she'll take happily!) -Medic: this man's aura is *messed up* and she can feel it. she has no great trust or fondness for doctors to begin with, and there's a familiar unsettling energy to him that just puts it over the top. she refuses to let him actually sedate her for any medical procedures, as she is insistent on all her organs staying right where they are, thanks. It's a bit of a shame, as he doesn't seem that bad otherwise, but the tangible weirdness around his soul(s?) is too overbearing for her. -Demo: now this guy knows how to have a good time! they immediately connect over their various run-ins with the supernatural, and demo is one of the only ones she'd trust to actually believe her about the deal with her soul. basically they get along like a house on fire, to the amusement (or dismay) of the rest of the team. he's also one of the most likely to accept or throw down ridiculous challenges, which indulges her competitive, show-offy side to no end. -Soldier: honestly didn't like him at first--far too loud, and couldn't tell if his complaints about "women" on the battlefield were serious or not. once she got a better read on him, that he's really just a bit...odd, and maybe not fully anchored in reality, they got along much better. she's geniunely still unsure what to make of his history, especially with merasmus, and is probably still trying to process it to this day. Reminds her a bit of her father (not like that, you weirdo), at least that she knows how to deal with men who are a little strange in the head but still kind and decent folk. -Engie: another one of the mercs who made a good first impression on her, theyve gotten along well since day one. Growing up in such similar areas gives them a lot in common so it's not surprising they hit it off. It helps that he's one of the smartest folks she's ever met who isn't so irritatingly arrogant and full of themself. She's markedly insecure about her lack of formal education, but he's never been condescending about it and that alone earned him a ton of points in her book. That, and he makes a good barbeque.

[recilarotten]

Title: Insatiable (working title, will be changed) Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn In short: Inspired by @cheshiresense​ ‘s Hungerverse. Flames are everywhere, in everyone; weak, flickering things to be cared for as any other part of their health. For Skies, however, things are a little different. A little more dangerous. Word Count: 4000

Tsuna is seven when he finds out what his Flame is. It’s not a surprise, exactly, when his body explodes in an orange so bright and warm it’s almost an actual fire, but it’s startling enough that he yells and Mama peeks her head into her room.

It’s a lot more of a surprise when she waves blue Flames over him, shot through by gold, and pushes Tsuna’s Flames back in. Mama sighs in relief as the orange disappears, tells him she loves him, and reaches for her phone with shaking hands. When it’s pushed into Tsuna’s little hands, awkward and heavy, Mama tells him listen, okay Tsu-kun? This is important.

Sky, Papa says, in the same way he’s told Tsuna that he won’t be coming home today, or tomorrow, or in another year. Frank and sad. You’re a Sky, Tsuna, do you know what that is?

All Tsuna knows is Skies are home, because that’s all he’s ever heard of it. Papa laughs, agrees, but – that’s not all it is, that is not all you are, Tsuna.

Tsuna is four when he finds out about Guardians, and bonds, and what happens to Skies. Papa can’t come home to help, not yet – next week, he promises, I’ll be back then. Okay? – but one more phone call and a meeting later in the day with an orange corona still flickering around Tsuna. The brunet is led to a new doctor, is told he’s a thermatician and works with Flames (stabilizing, mitigating, improving, he’s here to help), and in moments a freezing band is curled over his wrist. Tsuna can’t bring himself to do much more than simply pick at it, even as the chill seeps into all of him.

“It’ll keep you safe until we figure out something more long term,” the thermatician says. It sounds like he’s speaking to Tsuna, but his eyes are on Mama. “I’m sure you can feel it, Tsuna-kun? That cold is just the bracelet keeping your Flames down. It will eventually fall off, and when it does, you’ll need to put another one on. Here; take these. Don’t put them on now! Keep them with you, okay? I’ll give some more to your Mama. When one starts to fray, then you can wear another. Never take them off unless you have to, okay?”

Tsuna doesn’t know how to explain the way his insides curdle at the idea anyway. He can’t see orange flickering over his skin, which is almost as bad, but what Papa said – that makes him even more scared than the emptiness. So this is okay.

Anything is better than that, right?

The thermatician looks at Tsuna at last, and smiles. “Don’t worry. I know you probably want to show off your Flames, but this is just temporary. Sky Flames are a wonderful thing to have.”

“… Papa said Skies get eaten,” Tsuna mumbles. The thermatician locks up like he’s the one freezing. “I don’t want to get eaten. What if my classmates notice anyway?”

“I’m not sure what your Papa said, exactly, but they won’t be eating you.” The doctor hums for a moment, before standing to pick out a note book. He flips through most of it before landing on a blank page, and a pen the thermatician wasn’t holding before – with multi-colored tabs on the end – is suddenly in hand. “Okay. So, there are seven elements, right? Sky, Sun, Mist, Cloud, Rain, Storm, Lightning. And they all have their own abilities.” The doctor draws out the elements, clicking on tabs to color them in appropriately – in the center of the other six is Sky. “Most elements are… Limited. While every element is capable of fueling themselves, the outer six, here, struggle with it; they can only spare so much energy gotten by eating and sleeping. So, they don’t have enough Flames to feel – to be healthy, even if they’re otherwise doing very well.”

The thermatician draws in little flames in the middle of the circles, then pauses, looking at Tsuna expectantly. The brunet blinks. He nods.

“Skies don’t have this deficit – this lacking. In fact, even when they’re going hungry, or staying up much, much longer than most people even can, they’re doing just fine! They produce plenty of Flames, which helps keep the Sky energized and healthy no matter what – sometimes meaning they can do amazing things, if they’re trained! – and this energy can be spread to other Flames, to make up for what those elements don’t have.” He punctuates this with a large flame around the Sky circle, then draws arrows out to the other elements.

Tsuna nods again, slowly. He… thinks he gets it. “So Skies share their Flames?”

“Yes! That is part of a Sky’s natural ability, Harmony. As Skies share with an element, it helps to stabilize – to calm – that element’s Flames, as well as allow them to interact freely. Both Flames adjust to suit the other, and Skies are capable of adjusting to many Flames at once, giving Sky Flames to fill up other elements so they have enough of their own Flames, and Harmonizing with them naturally.”

“Then why do they eat Skies?”

The thermatician sighs. “You see, elements, when they find a Sky, tend to get… excited. Elements that don’t already have a Sky are – it’s a bit like starving, forever. They aren’t really hurt for it, and they can live their lives without ever gaining more. The only thing that would be a real problem, would be a perpetual want. Putting a Sky in front of a lot of elements – especially elements that are just becoming active – is like placing a very large meal in front of a starving person, and you just happen to be in their way. They don’t want to eat you; they want to eat your Flames. Since Flames are capable of manifesting, and Sky Flames in particularly are permanently exposed unless interfered with – such as by those bracelets. Faced with that, those more desperate or unused to their Flames would…” He hesitates, running a hand over his head again. “Well, they would take those manifested Flames from you, and physically eat them, just like you’d eat anything else. If they’re hungry enough, they won’t stop either; not until they’re removed, they’re full, or… there’s no more Flames for them to eat.”

Tsuna stares. He stares, and stares, and then: “So they would eat me. Papa was right.”

The doctor nods.

Mama ends the meeting not long after; with a few more warnings about the bracelets, and keeping in contact, they’re going back home and Mama’s talking about school tomorrow.

Tsuna can’t bring himself to say, or think, or do much of anything for the rest of the day; but tomorrow, when none of his Flame-active classmates notice, and his teachers don’t acknowledge his Sky Flames, the worries whisk away. Tsuna’s okay; that’s what’s important.

—  —  —  —  —

Tsuna finds out a week later that Sky Flames are rare, but not the reason. The churning in his tummy begs him not to find out.

Tsuna also finds out that even now, his Papa is a liar. He won’t be coming this week; he won’t be coming the next week, or month. Papa has no idea when he can come by, no matter how much Mama tells Tsuna that he’ll be coming ‘soon.’ He’s been saying ‘soon’ since Mama told Papa about the bracelets, and Tsuna wonders if ‘soon’ means ‘never.’

—  —  —  —  — 

Three months and seven bracelets later, Tsuna’s class briefly falls apart.

(All seven bracelets that Tsuna is still wearing. The first is hanging on by a single thread and the other six are so ratty that it’s nearly impossible to tell what they were in the first place. They still chill his skin where they touch, though, so he leaves them on. He’s got two new ones on besides, because just one leaves him with Flames that even Mama looks at, sometimes.

His classmates too, are becoming Flame-active; most have a colorful halo, and everyone is alive with new energy. Tsuna’s favorite is still Misty Rain Flames, who have blue with darker bursts of indigo, because those are Mama’s Flames and he’ll always love those – but there are many, some mixed, and Tsuna thinks they’re all so pretty. He wants to touch. His bracelets remind him not to.)

It was a normal morning for a little while; Tsuna’s trying not to nap because he’s so cold and so sleepy from the bracelets. It’s hard for him to remember lessons, too. He’s teased as being no-good because of how often he slips up, and it’s almost in good fun. Even now, Tsuna’s deskmate is grinning and prodding him, whispering “Da~me-Tsu~na! Wake up!”

It doesn’t make Tsuna any less tired, but the poking and teasing keeps him from falling asleep. Tsuna nudges back with an elbow, sticking out his tongue as the teacher isn’t looking. His classmate sparks – something Tsuna recognizes, knows to jerk away from because someone else in class had activated and their deskmates had been burned. She sparks again, chest flickering white, then explodes into color. Muddled, a mess, then a deep nearly-brown orange, racing to cover all of her. Tsuna blinks once, twice – the classroom is silent.

Sky, he realizes. Orange is Sky.

His hand is in his bag, digging, but it’s too late already. Someone shoves Tsuna out of the way and that’s all the warning he gets before his classmates – a rainbow of colors and bodies and warmth – crowd around her, into her, hands digging and scraping what little Tsuna can even see anymore. He hears yelling and sees dark orange fire cupped and dripping like magma between so many hands, swallowed whole before they reach again and Tsuna’s classmates block his view entirely – he’s seen enough. Enough to fight, try to scramble away from the mess and drag his bag with him (are his bracelets in place? Some have ripped off, but he can’t see any orange, there isn’t any Flame, not his—) too panicked to cry or shriek and his deskmate was doing enough of that on her own anyway. He breaks out of the pile to find the teacher prying students away, grabbing them by whatever she can and all but tossing them aside, golden-green Sun Flames boiling as she fights through the kids. Tsuna sees his deskmate in the teacher’s arms after a moment, clothes and hair ruffled and torn, covered in scrapes and red marks as she sobs.

Tsuna realizes that her Flames are little more than sparks now, and still– still the teacher is hefting her up above grasping hands with orange palms and red nails

Papa was right, Tsuna thinks. His stomach churns. His hands find his bracelets, which feel very, very thin suddenly. Still, his classmates fight after the teacher until she leaves – escapes – the room. Things get very quiet after that.

Orange stains lips and cheeks. The majority of the class lingers, blinking, like they don’t know what they’ve done. At the door, their hands, each other. Tsuna, and every Flame-inactive in their class – three students total – stare. I don’t want to be here, he doesn’t say. I shouldn’t be here.

Tsuna instead reaches into his backpack and pulls another bracelet on. Ice rushes up his arm and settles around his core. It feels safer, though. A little less like his classmates are glancing at him, like they know, they see it, and just want his bracelets off before they go for him instead.

I don’t have Flames, Tsuna tells himself. If he says it enough, maybe it’ll come true. Maybe he’ll never have to worry about this again. I don’t have Flames.

A moment later, another teacher comes in – he’s less ruffled but his voice shakes as he says “we’ll be calling parents; your class is over, for today. Pack up.”

No one is steady enough to celebrate – maybe no one wants to. Tsuna certainly doesn’t, not when he thinks about being swarmed, yelling and punching and getting eaten. That train of thought sends his eyes watering, and while Tsuna is the first to start crying, he’s not the only one. By the time parents start coming in, all worry and reassurance, most of his classmates are in tears too, shaking and clutching at their parents and sobbing. When Mama comes in, Tsuna’s right among them, and she holds onto him like she thought Tsuna got eaten.

Tsuna tightens his hold on her skirt and buries his face in her. His bracelets are heavy.

—  —  —  —  — 

“You need to come home,” Mama says into the phone, that same night. She isn’t yelling (Tsuna doesn’t think she’s able to), but her voice is sharp and desperate. Tsuna’s quiet and holds his bracelets tight. He hasn’t stopped since leaving school. “There was an accident in Tsu-kun’s class– no, it wasn’t him but… Please, come back. He needs you. We need you.”

—  —  —  —  — 

Papa is home in two days to arrive on a Sunday. He sweeps up Mama and Tsuna and holds them tight, but that doesn’t last long – it never does. For the rest of the week, he teaches Tsuna how to take his Flames and tuck them away. He shows Tsuna, the way Flames can be twined into bone and blood instead of dancing on his skin. When that doesn’t work, because there’s so much, and Tsuna is so small, he teaches Tsuna something else.

He teaches Tsuna how to take his orange Flames, bright and burning, and so warm they fill the whole room, and break them into something else. How to pry off a piece and swallow it and find the regrown parts to smear over the rest of his Flames. Hide them all under an ugly non-Flame and say that is me.

Tsuna gags on it every time, feels the brownish, oil-slick Flame dig in like thorns (reversed Sky Flames, Papa calls them. He doesn’t explain further, and Tsuna doesn’t want him to). Still, it works. Tsuna can take off two of his bracelets and feel closer to warm than he has since getting them in the first place, and Mama can look at Tsuna and not his Flames. She can hold him without her own Flames trying to snap up Tsuna’s, and the brunet takes every second of cuddling he can get. Papa stays just long enough to make sure Tsuna can keep his Flames hidden, and then he’s gone again.

Going back to his school – because the whole school was out for that week, to make sure families knew what happened and recovered, the teachers knew to keep an eye because some kids were still inactive, and those white sparks were just moments of warning. – the first thing those newly informed teachers did was say, she’s alright, and she is not a Sky. There was an inactive Sky in the room, she latched onto that.

The teacher looks at him, at Tsuna, too pointedly to be accidental. Tsuna fiddles with his three bracelets, the other seven finally gone after that week, too frayed or torn or simply worn to stay on. Later, after announcement and class has started, she circles to his desk and says, quietly, “stay after during recess. I want to talk to you about your Flames. You’re not in trouble; I just need to make sure you’re safe, okay? I’ll be meeting with your parents afterward, too. Don’t worry, Tsuna-kun.”

Tsuna nods jerkily, clutching his pencil. The teacher hums quietly, then walks off again. If possible, he feels less safe. He drops the pencil to hold his bracelets again, reassuring himself – they are still here, and so is he. His Flames are gone, ice clinking along his veins instead of blood. I should eat some later, Tsuna thinks. Orange flickers in his mind’s eye – not on him, no, no, no, but bright enough that he imagines it. What it would look like, if he let it.

The idea sends nausea burbling up his throat, tears pricking his eyes. He’d glow in lovely orange and then there would be– hands over his throat, his clothes, and now matter how he shrieked all of them, all of them would pile on top of him, until his teacher broke apart the mob and—

Tsuna swallows, clutches his bracelets, and bunkers down.

He can’t tell if the eyes on him, that have been on him ever since the teacher silently pointed out he was a Sky, are real or imagined.

—  —  —  —  — 

“Tsuna-kun–”

Tsuna flinches away from the hand before it lands on his shoulder, curls into himself. His teacher hesitates. Steps away.

“I know what happened last week was scary. That’s why we’re having this talk now. Your deskmate, Hinari-chan… She was a Rain. But because you were right next to her when her Flames became active, she picked up on your element. That happens sometimes; it happened to me when I was little, and she’s doing just fine now. Tsuna, I haven’t noticed any active Flames from you at all, but if they weren’t active, she shouldn’t have picked them up. I need you to answer me honestly. Are you a Flame-active Sky?”

Helplessly, he tugs and pulls at his bracelets. “Yes,” and as he sees his teacher start to sigh, Tsuna barrels onwards. “B-but! Mama took me to a doctor to keep them hidden! My- my bracelets, that I wear, they hide it.” Tsuna lifted his arm, showing off the colorful bands. “I have spares, so if they start to fall off, I can put on another one and it’ll be okay. And, Papa – he was here, and he taught me how to… He’s a Sky Flame too, and Papa taught me how to hide my Sky Flames, so I’m not – I don’t get eaten. I can – I can show you!” Tsuna drops his arm now, hand holding so tight over his bracelets he thinks he’s going to bruise. No, he knows he’ll bruise, but Tsuna can’t bring himself to let go. The cold spreads over his hand too, and that feels good – feels reassuring.

“… Alright. Are you sure? I’m sure we can figure something else out.”

Tsuna shakes his head violently. Carefully – so carefully – Tsuna pulls his bracelets off. The first is fraying, he notes. Dread curdles in his tummy, thick and sour. The second looks fine, as does the third. With the bracelets gone, Tsuna sighs softly. Warmth pulses gently in his ribs. Soft and small and relieved. Then it grows. He explodes in orange flames, shuddering as his body turns to static in shock. Tsuna grabs a desk as feeling returns to him, tries not to sob in relief because this is what being warm feels like? His teacher sits heavily on a desk, blinking.

“You are Flame-active,” she says, numbly. Tsuna doesn’t like the blank expression on her face. It takes several moments before she looks normal again. Tsuna, though, doesn’t feel normal; he feels like dropping to the ground or  crying or running until his legs fall off. He’s so warm. “Tsuna-kun, you said your Papa taught you how to hide your Sky Flames?”

He nods – everything is tinted orange, and Tsuna can feel his teacher’s Sun Flames, light and scattering like sparks, recoiling from his own inbetween moments where they reach and try to dig and grab and steal. Tsuna doesn’t see it, but he feels his teacher grip the desk. Hard.

Tsuna shakes off the giddiness, remembers his feet are on the ground and his body is wreathed in Flame. He coats his hand in the orange fire, feels it sing from his ribs to his hands through his veins. It coalesces there, coiling into and through itself to form a sphere that flickers and coils around his fingers. Harmless.

It feels so much– so much like his insides are being pulled, his lungs and heart dragged inside-out and strangled by his intestines, bones digging in to pry his body apart– still, still, his Flames taste like Mama’s cooking, warm and wonderful and so much like home. Thoughtlessly, agonized – it feels like comfort as he swallows and Tsuna drags out more, body (is that just him?) shuddering in sobs as he eats, and eats, and eats, until something sticky and icy gutters through his chest. It seeps out with every exhale and swallows up orange Sky Flames. Painless, yes, but covering his skin in a way that’s almost worse than the bracelet’s icy cold. Hideous Flames – are they still Flames? – oil-slicked and sickly, drift off his body in fumes. Inside, safely locked under the fake Flames, his Sky Flames flicker and roil. If he was warm earlier, Tsuna feels like his insides might be boiling now – but is that so bad? He slides on a bracelet, just one – that boiling fades to an unfamiliar, soothing warmth, and nothing else.

His teacher shifts.

Tusna flinches, coils into himself, and waits.

“… I can’t sense them at all,” she says eventually. Her voice is trembling. When Tsuna dares to look, she’s gone pale. “You eat your Flames?”

“That’s how it works,” Tsuna whispers. “Skies get eaten no matter what. Papa says it’s better to eat my own Flames than let anyone I don’t want to do it, and… and it’s not too bad.”

His teacher lurches; she swallows hard enough to be seen – to be heard – then stands upright again. “Alright. I… I’ll still have to talk to your Mama, but this is – this will work. You’re free to go.”

Tsuna sighs in relief, only to immediately wince as the bell signaling the end of recess chimes. He retreats to his desk, hand already fiddling with his bracelet. The brunet feels sick with the fake Flames and his real Flames, like his bones and blood will light up and Tsuna won’t be anything but ashes. The first classmates to come in, nudging and laughing and pushing each other don’t notice him – but it doesn’t last. That kind of thing never lasts. Someone glances over, and that’s the end of it. He nudges a friend, and soon the class is looking – staring – eyes tracing over Flames like factory smoke, black and roiling and heavy.

It’s not Tsuna that breaks the silence – no matter how much he wants to throw himself under his desk and cry. He still hurts. The stares are worse. It’s not the teacher either, who still looks pale and sick and unsure, no matter how she tries to hide it.

“What’s wrong with your Flames?!” Someone demands, and the room explodes into noise. Tsuna can’t pick out any one phrase, hears Flames and “wrong” and “strange” and “he really is no-good-” and no matter how the teacher calls over the class, they won’t settle. They start pressing in, curious and worried and unsettled, hands coming to press and brush through his Flames—

Tsuna bolts, pushing through bodies as his Flames begin to roil in his insides, as the reverse Flames start dripping up and down, flooding the air with a stench that chokes Tsuna and follows him out the door, to the bathroom as he locks himself in a stall and gasps for air through tears and choking. The tile floor is cool, seeps into his skin when Tsuna drops to the ground to hold himself, to cry.

With only his sobs echoing back, it’s easier to calm down – when he’s not being swarmed, when there isn’t noise pressing in at every angle. He breathes deep, ignores the smell of rot, sighs his fear out and leaves hollow spaces instead. Even when that gripping fear lets go, Tsuna doesn’t leave. Brown-black fire, dregs of something gentler, coat his skin in a mockery of comfort. Of Flames.

To hate them because he had to eat his own fire to make them– because they hurt, that was one thing. His classmates staring and whispering and yelling, reaching to touch in fearful interest that—

Tsuna buries his head in his arms and shivers.

[pokeshippingflashfic]

sequel Pocky Game

(Follow-up to “Pocky Game”, which many people requested! @chumpyamigo, @miyatoriaka, @thealexxa123… Tagged because their request asks for this fic weren’t used to post it.)

A resounding thought crashed down on her as they slowly drew apart from each other, breath so shallow she wasn’t sure it was enough to sustain consciousness much longer.

“You… didn’t know, did you?”

It was a ludicrous marvel to watch Ash scramble for his escape, doing his utmost to look anywhere except for at her as he ran upstairs, claiming he needed to use the bathroom right away. Pikachu followed loyally after his distressed trainer while Misty watched in heart-aching awe.

That was just before the earth-shattering quake of righteous fury began to overtake her - partially at Ash because wasn’t it her who should be the one to run away in mortification? And partially at the third party duo she just knew had been behind it all.

“It was you two, wasn’t it?!” she whispered breathlessly, practically hyperventilating as she rounded on Tracey and Brock. “There was no way Ash had even heard of that game before tonight and you tricked him into playing!” She would have been screeching if she wasn’t so concerned it would draw more attention from the wrong person (i.e., Ash).

“Whoa, wait a sec, Misty!” Brock shouted, backing away on his knees, hands up in front of his face to ward her back. “C’mon, it was just a joke, right? No big deal! Ash didn’t expect it but he’ll get over it by morning! Probably forget the whole thing!”

“I - I don’t want him to forget the whole thing!” she responded too quick to better phrase her response with a stomp of her foot.

“I knew it!” the future doctor exclaimed with a confident smirk and the snap of his fingers.

“O - or maybe I do! I dunno! It’s just… he didn’t ask for this and… it’s not fair it happened this way!” she attempted once more. But of course it was even more than that, though her outrage made it impossible to string the proper words together in that moment.

“But you did want it to happen, didn’t you?” Tracey pointed out next with a nod in her direction as if hoping to coax her into a confession.

His perceptive nature was enough to cause her to clam right up. She knew she would have been better off running away like Ash had done. She knew it was all too good to be true.

It wasn’t just about Ash of course, though she had felt some misguided need to defend his ignorance in this case. At the end of the day, she also had to think about herself…

“I don’t know what you two were really trying to pull, whether you thought you were helping or thought it wouldn’t really matter once it was over somehow… but it’s not a joke to me. Now I have to figure out how to convince Ash that it didn’t mean anything special to me when, even if he didn’t know about how the Pocky Game works, it definitely did.” Misty huffed, turning on her heel and launching around the couch and upstairs.

In his room, Ash’s head was abuzz, questions flurrying about so quickly inside his head that he couldn’t find the time to form a single answer.

“Pika…? Pikapi?”

“O - oh, uh, hey buddy,” the teenage boy stuttered with a resigned sigh, staring at his Pokemon through his reflection in the vanity mirror. “Thanks for checking on me. I’ll be okay, of course. That was just… unexpected.”

It wasn’t his first kiss. It wasn’t his first unexpected kiss. It wasn’t his first kiss on the lips. It wasn’t even his first kiss on the lips with an audience present. But there’d been something so entirely overwhelming about the situation, about the closeness of Misty’s flushed and freckled cheeks, about her half-lidded blue-green eyes and her fluttering eyelashes and the intimate rise and fall of her chest from less than a foot away…

“Gah!” he exclaimed in retaliation, jamming his palms over his own eyes as if that would block the imagery creeping up from the back of his mind. This was nothing, nothing new, he’d been there a few times before so why was this particular kiss so much… more somehow?

“Ash?” a familiar voice that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with at the present time drifted softly from behind his closed bedroom door. “C’mon, we gotta talk about… what happened downstairs.”

“I’m, uh… I’m sleeping!”

“Obviously you’re not!” Misty shouted immediately back, a slight twinge of ire obvious in her tone.

“I’m sick, very sick, gotta get some rest to feel better now!”

“Pikapi!” Pikachu admonished from his spot on the corner of his bed before the redhead could reply again.

“Fine!” the teenage boy groaned, caving to their combined demands, “C - come in, Mist…”

He joined his Pokemon partner on the bed, sitting stiffly, his spine straight as a lightning rod, nerves on end in panic over what would happen next. Misty cautiously opened the door, caught sight of him, stepped inside. He still couldn’t look her in the eye, instead hyper-focusing on her bare feet as she came to stand in front of him.

“Ash, I’m sorry about what happened back there. I… To be honest, I don’t know what else to say to you,” the redhead shrugged, beating back the small part of her that wanted to hone in on his cowardice and mock him for it like normal. She really missed their normal right now.

“It’s just… Tracey and Brock taught me the game but…” he wistfully shook his head, commentary faltering.

“Yeah, I figured that one out for myself, and trust me, I’m gonna get ‘em,” the redheaded girl muttered through gritted teeth, fists clenching at her sides. Then her overall posture relaxed once more as she stared down at him where he sat, Pikachu sitting bipedal at his side in support. “I promise I wouldn’t have let things go the way they did if I’d known that you didn’t know.”

There was a pregnant pause as the three occupants of the room braced themselves, steeped in silence. Misty’s face was aflush with a complicated ratio of appropriate embarrassment and unbecoming fulfillment. In the back of her mind, a part of her subconscious cheered through the guilt and anger and confusion of everything. Finally… something had happened between them, even if it hadn’t gone as planned.

Unfortunately while she was busy suppressing that part of her, Ash’s expression was pivoting over another realization entirely.

“Misty,” he began, finally looking her in the eye for the first time since the incident, “you said you would get Brock and Tracey back for what happened.”

“Uh… yeah?”

“‘Cause they put us in this position by not telling me that… the kinda thing that could happen if we both played the game to that point.”

“Right?” she responded blankly.

“But you also… when I brought up the game to you, you also asked me if I knew what the game was,” he continued pointedly, internally putting the puzzle pieces together so quick he felt a headache coming on from the pressure build up, “as if you knew how things might go at the end.”

“Oh…”

“And then you agreed to play it with me.” He stared the magenta-faced redhead down, daring her to deny his suspicions. “So that must have meant you wouldn’t have minded a kiss with me at least. You knew it was possible. M - maybe you even wanted it. Is that right?”

You’re out of your mind! she wanted to screech at first but her sandpaper tongue wouldn’t allow the syllables to form. What makes you think I’d ever want something like that with you?! she tried next but the secondary statement fared no better past her lips than the first.

Ash Ketchum watched the poor girl struggle, so pink in the face she looked just ready enough to faint from her internal brawl. Pikachu stood gaping at his master’s side as the situation unfolded before them.

The younger of the two trainers didn’t know what he expected (nor wanted) to hear but he was on the edge of his seat with bated breath until the girl standing in front of him finally buckled and mutely nodded her head after a solid few minutes of wringing her hands out around her night shirt.

Cotton filling his lungs and throat, Ash was barely able to get the next question out of his mouth. But he was in too deep not to go the distance now.

“Why is that? Why would you wanna kiss me?”

Misty mustered a shrug of indifference while her nerves burst alive in trepidation. However even she knew the situation wasn’t going anywhere and he wasn’t likely to let the subject drop until he heard her speak.

“I just… I’m sorry, Ash.”

“I don’t want you to apologize, I want you to tell me the truth!”

He was on his feet instantaneously, his hands grabbing her fitful ones and softly turning them palm up, gliding his thumbs downward and easing her fingers open, her tangled shirt hem falling away. He swore he could feel an erratic pulse in the blue of her veins as his thumbs trailed over them but the humming faded just as quickly, replaced by a profuse need to know greater than he’d ever thought he’d experience.

Any other day, Ash would have willed such a weird, sappy topic away, choosing ignorance in a heartbeat.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time, to kiss you,” she finally confessed in a murmur just loud enough to hear. “I only did it tonight because… I thought you wanted it too, and that was why you asked to play the pocky game with me. I guess I should’ve… known better, huh?” she finished with a wry grin, cheeks splotching red after holding back her breath and tears. “It was dumb of me to think you’d figured me… my feelings out to that extent.”

It took the teenage boy far longer than it probably should have for him to decipher the emotion filling him up was joy. How was it possible he was happy to hear that Misty had wanted so long to kiss him? How long had he even liked Misty in that way without knowing it…?!

“Ash…” The aforementioned female began in an aggravated tone, “… why the heck are you smiling? That’s not… I should kick…”

Of course only Misty could follow up her confession of love (as it more or less was) with a physical threat but that seemed to impress upon him all the more how strongly she felt somehow and he reassuringly squeezed her hands in response.

“Heh, Mist, it turns out that I might like you too! And,” he paused here as the redhead went still, eyes as wide as his had most definitely been after kiss earlier in the evening, swaying unsteadily for a moment as she came to terms with his statement, “next time you wanna try locking lips we don’t gotta play a game… unless you want to.”

[malyceaduncastellan]

Big little secrets

Just a random thing that popped in my mind a long time ago. So I know you guys have a way of presenting your stories on tumblr... That I obviously don’t get, so I’ll just stick with that. No worries, though, it should be appropriate for almoste everybody. Forgive my mistakes as English isn’t my first language.

F!MC with name Casey Valentine cause I was a lazy ass when beginning Open Heart. So, my MC is white but I tried to write her as not physically as possible ( I don’t even know if I can say that) so any female reader can identify. I’d try to write as gender neutral but as I said, English ain’t my first language and gender neutral pretty much doesn’t exist in french so I’ll need a little time to work on it... Sorry but as it is, to me it still feels weird.

The ship is with Ethan Ramsey.

Doctor Casey Valentine was as admired as she could be hated. Top of the interns classment, her patients pretty much all adored her, her roommates, for most of them, supported her fully even though some were pretty much involved with the competition.

She wasn’t a woman you could see slacking off. Everything she did, she gave her all to it. She never made mistakes twice, though she didn’t make a lot of mistakes, generally.

She was almost the only intern Ethan Ramsey recognized. They all knew how he called her, to the point he could ask someone to “bring Rookie to him” and they would bring Doctor Valentine.

Harper Emery didn’t really like her. That, no one really knew why. They could only guess it was because she was destroying the well-designed future of her niece just by being there, but some others said there was something more to it. Something they couldn’t quite grasp.

Maybe it was the fact that Casey made her think of herself younger, hardworking, passionated, young and beautiful, all that jazz. Maybe she reminded her of what she wasn’t anymore.

Anyway, no one was really surprised when she joined Ethan Ramsey’s diagnostics team. Her success was deemed inevitable ever since she had topped that list and she seemed to work even more than before she was in the team.

Therefore, when, one day, she had seemed weirdly off, it had been enough to worry her friends. She just smiled and said that she had spent a rough week, but a rough morning wasn’t enough to bring down this Casey Valentine.

Sienna and Elijah went hesitantly to Doctor Ramsey, asking him if something had happened in the diagnostics team that could make her so weird. He merely frowned, saying nothing out of the ordinary took place within the team.

When they finally confronted Casey about her weird behavior, she smiled and laughed.

“Honestly, guys? I said it’s nothing. I just... kind of fought with someone I hold dear. But I swear everything is okay now. We settled it down.”

That’s when they learned Casey had a boyfriend. A secret boyfriend she wouldn’t tell a thing about. Hell, they didn’t even know his name, nor when and how Casey had met him. Just that it was a man and that sometimes, Casey wasn’t home at nights.

Anyway, it seemed off to sneak into her privacy, especially when she seemed so bright about it. She often talked about his dog, about how adorable he could be. Sienna asked about his quirks, and Casey laughed, saying he was fiddling with his pockets whenever he was nervous. Elijah wanted to know of his character, and she answered by saying he really wasn’t what he seemed like. Landry was dying to know what kind of job the man did, and her tone faded dreamily, whispering he was doing something very good. Then Jackie asked for a lot of uneccessary details, just in case she had to kill the man if he dared to hurt her roomie, but Casey was having none of it.

Her lips were shut about anything that could give him away. Soon enough, they all rolled with it, figuring she would be forced to tell them one day if things turned up well, or that nothing would be said would it turn bad.

They all came back to their work thinking nothing of it, weeks passing with Casey being happier than they had seen her, and their work going smooth. Even Doctor Ramsey felt a little more relaxed ever since Casey was on his team. He probably had less work to worry about, making him less harsh on the interns.

Routine had just came back. Until Casey fainted in the middle of the corridors while speaking to other interns.

The door of the room opened so violently Sienna almost jumped. She frowned when she saw Doctor Ramsey, very obviously crossed but tried to stay focused as she was drawing up blood from Casey’s arm.

“Doctor Ramsey? What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just checking she wasn’t pulling a stupid prank on me. Like that time I asked her what was wrong about her patient and she told me it was his “fucking stupid face”.”

“As if she would... But I would have preferred it that way. Her vitals are stable, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. She fainted approximately half an hour ago. Didn’t seem pale of anything during the day, just the usual. We were speaking and suddenly she stopped and just...fell. We’re running tests to see what could have happened to her since it kind of seems bad. I remember her saying she couldn’t eat to save her life in the morning or feeling dizzy lately.”

“Alright. Inform me right away if rest is deemed necessary. And I want to have access to all of her tests results. She needs to be the best she can if she wants to make this team better and she won’t if this happens frequently.”

“Understood.”

Sienna closed the last bottle of blood and gave it to Landry, who left immediately to observe the sample. When she turned, she found that Doctor Ramsey hadn’t left the room.

“I’m sorry... Did you need anything else, Doctor Ramsey?”

“Is any intern assigned to her case yet?

“Not yet, we’re kind of taking care of her when we can. I have to go back with my patients and so are all of the others. Should I ask Doctor Delarosa?”

Doctor Ramsey nodded.

“Put her under observation until she wakes up.”

Sienna nodded and she observed him as he seemed to crush the fabric of his pockets in his fists when he left. She thought nothing of it and left to attend to her duties before returning to her patients.

Therefore, when her pager informed her she was summoned to Casey’s room, she pretty much feared the worst.

Doctor Delarosa was standing besides Casey, a file with blood tests results in her hands. Doctor Ramsey was sitting in a chair, looking clearly tired and annoyed, which kind of angried Sienna. If he cared so little about Casey’s health that he only wanted her healthy so she could work properly, why did he even bother to stay there?

Jackie was there too, and she asked a silent question to Sienna. She didn’t seem to know why she was there either.

“She hasn’t woken up yet?”

“Oh, she did. I just put her under tranquilizers. She needs to sleep like crazy. I swear this girl only gets three hour of sleep per week to be that exhausted...”

“Doctor Delarosa, is that why she fainted?”

“Yes, and no. I summoned you three there because I believe you’re more likely to know anything about this.”

She handed Jackie the test results.

Sienna observed as her roomate scanned the sheet.

“Well, her tryglycerides are a bit low, but nothing problematic... Nothing particular about her immune tests either... Oh, god. Holy shit.”

Jackie’s eyes suddenly were wide opened.

“Is it really her blood tests?”

“Affirmative.”

“Well damn...”

“What what? What is happening to Casey? Jackie, she’s not dying is she?”

“I don’t think so, Sienna. I probably would be dying if I was in her shoes now though.”

Doctor Ramsey frowned and gripped his coat, looking weirdly annoyed.

“Delarosa, you’re seriously beginning to get on my nerves. What’s with my intern’s health that required my presence there?”

“She’s pregnant, Ramsey. That’s what’s happening to her.”

It was his turn to look positively astounished. Sienna almost would have laughed if she wasn’t shocked herself, but the face he made was comical, almost as if he didn’t believe that “Rookie” was physically able to get pregnant.

“Which is why you’re there. We don’t know who the father of that child is here and whoever it is, maybe she’d like him to be there when she wakes up. She’ll need a friendly face because this pregnancy ain’t looking good considering her mother had five miscarriages. I figured, as her girl roomies and as her boss, you might have heard a name. I don’t take her as the type who would fool around carelessly.”

Sienna and Jackie exchanged looks, then shook their head negatively.

“We don’t know. We know she has a boyfriend but honestly, all that we know about him is that he fiddles with his pockets when he’s nervous. We can’t help you.”

“I can.” said Doctor Ramsey, suddenly.

Sienna frowned. Why would Casey tell her boss about her boyfriend? It just didn’t make sense. Doctor Delarosa looked at her colleague.

“Then who can be the father of that child?”

“I honestly believe there is only one option...”

He grumbled, looking really annoyed. His cheeks were red and suddenly Sienna feared his anger more than anything. Then she looked at his hands, clenching his pockets in his fists, then putting one finger inside of it, then two, then removing his hand...

And it striked her, just as he spoke.

“I am.”

“What the fuck. Seriously, what the fuck. And we’re sworn to silence but how am I supposed not to tell anyone about it?”

“You tell me...”

Sienna and Jackie were walking together to their place. They simply needed time to cool off together and walking seemed like the best idea.

“Her boyfriend was Ethan Ramsey. Honestly, when do you think it began?”

“Months ago... I mean, we knew there was something fishy with that boyfriend of hers. No wonder she didn’t want anyone to know about it... People could have ruined her.”

Jackie sighed, then continued.

“Hell, I would have. But... I don’t know. I’m observant and I’ve always thought the way he looked at her was odd. With time I just thought it was because she was the best intern and he was keeping an eye on her but... after today...”

She remembered the scene just before they left. Delarosa had instructed them to leave Casey in Doctor Ramey’s hands. He had his back turned from the girls and he didn’t notice they hadn’t left the room yet. First, he just watched her, tracing the features of her face with the tip of his finger. Even though his posture clearly showed he was in distress, something about him seemed more relaxed than they could have imagined from him. They heard him sigh and taking Casey’s hand in his, pressing his lips to it. Every gesture seeming so natural that looking at it almost felt... indecent.

And now here they were, sorting out their thoughts.

“What do we do, Sienna?”

“Is that even a question? We support her. She’ll need it. I’m not dragging Casey through the mud when she might be living something difficult. Five miscarriages, can you imagine that? Her mother had to go through six pregnancies at least and five of them never saw the day. No way in hell I’m not helping her through that.”

“What do we tell the boys?”

“The truth minus Ramsey. Something tells me they could demand explanations from him and they wouldn’t last long. We have to protect them Jackie. Otherwise what kind of doctors are we?”

“I’m following you, Sienna. I just... I suddenly wish no one would proclaim me best intern in Edenbrook just because she’ll have to leave when she looks like a whale.”

“If she wants to keep it...”

Jackie shaked her head.

“Five miscarriages. Honestly, I don’t think she’d forgive herself if she decided to abort. And her mother probably wouldn’t either. And we’ll do anything so she can look like a whale and show us proudly the hideous munchkin when it’s born.”

“Hideous? Girl, have you seen its father?”

“Hmm... Casey’s hotter than him. Though, I wonder what he thinks of that baby.”

“Well, theorically, since this child is in Casey’s body, I’d say she’s the one who has to give the last say.”

“Sure. I mean, women fought for this but I really wouldn't like it if my girl got pregnant with my child and she just decided without thinking I deserve a teeny bit of advice on it.”

“Well, Jackie, thank god you actually can’t make anyone pregnant.”

They continued their banter until they arrived home. They needed to keep their hearts light about this story.

Night had fallen hours ago when Casey opened her eyes. She felt like she had drunk a ton of alcohol because her head was pounding and nausea was suddenly taking up on her. She wondered where she was, not recognizing the room she was in. But a familiar scent surrounded her.

“Ethan?”

“Hey.”

His voice was hoarse. She turned her head to look at him. Disheveld, his coat thrown on a chair and his eyes staring at her soul. Her Ethan, the one he showed her in the secrecy of his place. She brought her hand to his hair to caress it.

“I probably drank too much because I don’t recognize anything nor can I remember anything.”

He chuckled.

“Casey, you’re at Edenbrook, in a room. You fainted today and barely woke up. Delarosa decided you didn’t sleep enough.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I guess it might just be mine. Or yours. You’re the one making me want to do these things. And you’re the one who says yes to it when I ask.”

Casey laughed.

“So, I fainted because I was tired. No big deal.”

“Actually... I need to tell you something.”

She looked at him while his eyes seemed to look in the void, searching for his words.

“Ethan?”

“Casey, you’re pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

“I… I am what?”

“Pregnant. You know, when there’s a baby just there.”

He touched her lower abdomen.

“Oh my god, but how?”

“I’m pretty sure I can figure out how…”

Ethan was trying the hardest he could to hide a sly smile on his face but Casey was having none of it.

“I didn’t mean THAT how! I mean we always made sure nothing like that happened…”

She stopped, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Or did we?”

“Does it matter? You’re pregnant.”

Silence fell in the room as Casey laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“I know you don’t want kids, Ethan. But... “

“Casey.”

“What?”

When she turned to look at him, she almost gasped. He was looking at her with a look of sheer adoration on his face, love almost bursting out of his eyes. As if she was the most marvelous creature on the face of the Earth, even though she probably smelled bad, her hair was a mess and she was dressed like a potato.

“I want that kid if you want it. I’m not sure if I can be a good father. You know of my issues with that. But I won’t ever forbid you to be a mother or even remotely ask that of you. I could’nt. So, if you think you love me enough for us to try to be parents to that kid… I want it too.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She suddenly was so happy... And so scared.

“You mean, if I can keep it inside...”

Her smile turned to a pained frown and Ethan reached out to kiss the corner of her eyes.

“I’ll do everything for that.”

“I trust you… You saved Banerji, you can save this baby.”

“We saved Naveen. We will save this baby Casey. I promise.”

There it is, I hoped you liked it! Please tell me if I made spelling mistakes :)

[friking-awsom-kitten]

Sleeping beauty just need some coffee IASA Chapter 4

He gasped, sitting up in shock. However, something refrained him from getting enough air and was shoved up deep into his throat. He chocked and grasped whatever was blocking his airways, ripping it off. Suddenly he could breathe again and he took big gulps.

His eyes flitted around the room in a panic, not recognizing where he was. Something to his left caught his eye and he stared at the woman that had been checking a machine next to him.

The woman dropped what she was holding and screamed.

He screamed back.

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

Sam had been staring out the window for a long time now. She didn't pay attention to whatever the teacher was saying. Few kids did.

Word of Danny had gotten around pretty fast and by the end of the first day everyone knew. It had been chaos.

Some people were angry and wanted to bill the Fentons for all the damage Danny's fights had gotten them. Some wanted to report the parents for child abuse. Most were furious at the GIW for disrespecting basic human rights and trying to capture a boy and were pestering the government to shut it down. The president, however, wouldn't back down, saying they were the best of the best at ghost science and this town needed them.

But almost everybody was grateful for Danny and all he'd done for the town.

A lot of people had visited him in the hospital. Including several of Sam's classmates.

They would also continuously ask the two friends questions.

About how it happened. If Danny's parents had known. Whether they got to fight ghosts too. Whether Danny would keep protecting the town or if he was ok.

Sam honestly didn't know. It had been two weeks. She'd never been more worried than she was now. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, though. He had been exhausted. Physically and mentally. He was probably on the bridge of collapsing anyways and that blast must have depleted his energy reserves.

She sighed and glanced towards Tucker, who was staring at his phone. The device was turned off and pushed far away on the table, but the boy didn't take his eyes off of it.

All of a sudden, a sharp ring interrupted the teacher. Everyone jumped a bit in their seats and they turned to look at Tucker, who was scrambling to pick up his phone and putting it on his ear.

"Yes? For real?!" Tucker's eyes widened and he looked at Sam. "He's awake!"

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

They burst in the hospital room. They had memorized the way long before and could walk from the receptionist to the ICU wing in their sleep.

Their eyes immediately fell on the small family in the corner.

Maddie looked about ready to cry and Jack was standing still with furrowed eyebrows. It was not a sight Tucker and Sam had expected to see.

The cause of all this grief was sitting up on his bed with a frustrated expression. He didn't have a breathing mask on anymore and the IV had been removed.

"Danny!" Sam cheered and sprang forward to hug him. He tensed under her hug and she frowned, letting go. "Danny?"

The boy huffed, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "So I've been told. Who are you?"

She was so perplexed her arms went slack. Tucker sucked in a gasp and they both turned to the doctor that had been standing next to them. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Daniel seems to suffer from Amnesia. From what you have told me and what we discovered, this was caused by a combination of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and recent stress. The severe concussion he recently got sealed it. It affected his hippocampus." The doctor stopped reading from his paper and looked Danny over before continuing. "From what I have gathered up to now, he seems to only be affected on the explicit memory, meaning the memory of the places and the times and the people. Or the who, what, where, when and why. However, the implicit seems normal, thankfully."

"The what?" Tucker breathed out, barely able to form words as he tried to understand everything happening.

"That means the skills he has learned. He can walk, talk, breathe, and all the motoric functions he has learned throughout his life, as well as riding a bike or reading. However, I'm not sure whether his semantic memory is damaged. This is the common knowledge. For example the days of the month. Or when his birthday is. The damage on that may vary."

The raven gave an exasperated sigh. "If you go through that explanation one more time I'm gonna give myself another concussion."

"Well," Tucker smiled weakly, even though tears were threatening to fall, "he didn't change personality-wise."

The other boy grinned. "He did say I still have the skills I learned. Must have practiced my sass a lot because I'm a pro."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. You did." She turned to the doctor. "But they will come back, right? This isn't permanent?"

For the first time, the doctor's face fell. "I- we aren't sure. Retrograde amnesia, which is what this condition is called, doesn't have a cure, but there are some ways to coach old memories to come back. Most patients remember their oldest memories, but Danny doesn't seem to even have that. If he does regain some memories, it will most likely be from early childhood. However, we can't be sure. It could get better, worse, or stay like this for the rest of his life." He looked at the pale faces in the room and smiled encouragingly. "But I don't think it will get worse given that this was a brain injury, first and foremost."

He nodded towards the parents. "Before I run a blood test and prescribe anything, I need some questions answered." He took out a list and a pen. "Did Daniel take medications? Any past health problems? For example seizures or strokes or infections? Did he take drugs?" He crossed over every time they shook their heads or wrote down when they mentioned something about a panic attack or how he had had an accident in the portal.

The doctor shook his head. This kid was a walking medical catastrophe. It was no wonder he ended up with amnesia. He sighed and put his papers down. "I'll send for a drug test and he'll have an MRI scan. After that he will have to stay in the hospital for a few more days until he is fully healed. Daniel, will you let us put back the IV?"

Danny scrunched his nose. "Ugh why. I'm awake now. I just need some food. Do you guys have some fries?"

"We'll get you appropriate food after the IV is back on. Your body is still short on nutrients."

"Please, Danny." Maddie begged. "The sack also has some ectoplasm. It will help you heal faster. You will be able to get out of here sooner."

Danny pursed his lips. This woman claimed to be his mom, and let me tell you how weird it is to not even remember your own mother. He wasn't even sure if he could trust these people. They could be lying to him for all he knew. But he had no other option. Besides, that woman gave him a comforting vibe. He smiled at her unconsciously and nodded. "Alright, but the second I'm out I want pancakes."

All the medical procedures had been run and the doctor had decided Danny would stay two more days before he could go home. All Danny's injuries had been healed during his coma. He claimed nothing hurt and only complained about getting food. Something nobody was surprised about. The boy hadn't eaten normal food in weeks. What they were surprised about was that he was so restless. He should be tired. In fact, he should still be unconscious. But nobody was about to complain about that.

What Danny really wanted was a bath. He felt dirty and gross. He was horrified to learn he'd been washed during his slumber and couldn't look at any nurse in the eye after that.

However, he felt especially uncomfortable when groups of strangers walked through the door and grinned at him and gave him presents and took pictures.

He glanced at the table next to him. It was simply covered in 'thank you' and 'get well' notes and some kind of merchandise. He had also gotten many pictures and drawings, but they were so confusing he couldn't figure heads or tails of it. On the other side were also some balloons and a few stuffed animals and to top it off, all around him were flowers.

I must have been some kind of celebrity, Danny thought. But why were they thanking him?

A girl suddenly burst through the doors and tackled the poor boy. He let out a yelp and she let go just as fast as she'd latched on and started rambling.

"I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard and then the plane was delayed and I first had to arrange a short vacation and I had to finish this assignment and they wouldn't let me go saying you weren't in danger of death and they said 'Alright, you can go, but if you don't get that degree it's on you' and I swear I was about to strangle them."

Danny couldn't understand what she was talking about so he took the time to inspect her. She had long brownish-red hair and he could honestly see the resemblance to his apparent mother. This must be Jasmine, his older sister.

The girl seemed to catch on that Danny wasn't responding and she paused, looking at him good for the first time. They stared at each other in silence for some time, taking in the other sibling.

Jasmine held out her hand and smiled. "Hello. My name is Jasmine, but you can call me Jazz. I'm sorry about just now. I was a bit worried."

Danny blinked in surprise. Why was she introducing herself? She must know he had amnesia. He grinned. It felt nice to know at least someone didn't come asking him if he knew them or expecting something from him. He shook her hand. "I don't think I need to introduce myself since you probably know me better than I do. You're my sister, right?"

Her smile brightened and he silently congratulated himself. "Yes. I'm two years older. So I'm nineteen and you're gonna be seventeen in Oktober 27. It's July 13 today. I just came from college."

Danny smiled softly, grateful for all the information she was giving him. He felt awkward having to ask such simple things. "Are you in the first year?"

She nodded. "I'm studying creative therapy. To put it simply, it's a kind of therapy for people who can't put their problems into words so instead do it with their hands. The therapist then can study their movements and results to see how they think and how to help them. There are many types and I'm doing a mix between drama and art."

She continued talking and Danny listened. He learned so much. She told him all about her and her life and her friends and even what recently happened in college. It was as if they were catching up on old times.

She didn't mention anything about Danny, or what he used to do or what they did together and he was grateful for that. It would have felt like she was telling him what he should have done and he would've felt obligated. It was an insane thought, given that all that had happened in the past, but he didn't want people telling him who he was.

They talked for hours. Mostly she was the one speaking, but Danny often put in his opinion or input in something and she would laugh.

At one point, a violet-eyed girl and a dark-skinned boy walked in and joined them. Danny remembered them as the two people who were there when he woke up. He tensed a bit, but they just greeted him and sat down. They said some words to Jazz and turned to look at him.

The boy wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat, but at a look from Jazz he smiled at Danny. "Hey, man. I don't think we told you our names. I'm Tucker Foley and that's Sam Manson."

Danny nodded towards them, but frowned at the girl. "Are your eyes naturally purple?"

Sam rolled said eyes as Tucker laughed. "No." She admitted. "They're blue. I got these contact lenses from my grandmother. She didn't want them to go to waste."

Tucker laughed some more. "Her grandmom used to be really rebellious as a teen. She saw potential in Sam," he told Danny and so the conversation went into flow again.

Sam and Tucker telling Danny about themselves and complaining a bit about school. They also told him how they met.

Apparently, Danny had known these people for practically all his life. Since kindergarten. That was a weird thought.

Jazz had glared at them for bringing that up but Danny sighed. "It's ok, Jazz. I'm gonna get this a lot from now on."

Sam winced. "Sorry. Just thought you'd want some background information. If there's something you don't like talking about we won't. Just tell us, alright?"

Danny shrugged. "That's just the thing, Sam. I don't know anything about anything. Everyone expects me to know all kinds of stuff and then it's just gonna get awkward." He huffed, frowning. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'll just figure out what my life is now."

Jazz grinned, beaming proudly. "That's the way to look at it, Danny. Just start off fresh."

Except that wasn't entirely possible. The moment Danny was admitted out of the hospital he knew his life was way weirder than he had thought at first.

When he was let out there was a crowd waving him off and cheering and he got a green sock thrown at him so that was a nice way to enter the world fresh.

Then there was the house he apparently lived in.

He honestly had no idea what to say about that. It looked like aliens had infiltrated earth and were doing a terrible job at laying low.

He sighed, ignoring all the paparazzi and following the two adults inside. It was much better inside. It was very clean. As if it had been prepared for his arrival. That just made him feel more guilty.

Maddie and Jack were grinning at him as they gave him a tour of the house. Maddie more nervously, while Jack was excited.

The first and second story were pretty normal. On the first was the kitchen and the living room. Then upstairs were all the bedrooms. Danny paused in what was apparently his room. It looked pretty clean and neat. He must have been either a perfectionist or his mom had tidied it up for him. He was gonna go with the second one.

Finally, he was shown the basement and the op Center, which is what they called the UFO on the house. The UFO looked exactly how Danny imagined a UFO would look like. It was huge and had a lot of wires. Somewhere something was beeping, but he couldn't figure out what.

Then the basement. Danny shivered as soon as he entered. He saw millions of weird machines and guns and a milkshake maker he decided not to trust. The name Fenton appeared everywhere. Like a logo.

Then there was a door at the other side of the room. It had a beethemed pattern as if warning people of toxins. Danny felt like he should put on a face mask or something to protect himself. His father was wearing some type of protective suit.

"What do you do for a living," he asked, exasperated.

"We're ghost hunters!" Jack grinned, leaving Danny with a baffled expression.

"Why do you hunt ghosts?" He asked, stumped and curious. The part about ghosts didn't surprise him much. It felt as normal as the fact birds were chirping outside.

Jack's expression fell and he exchanged a look with Maddie. "Well son." He started cautiously. "We're ghost scientists. We have been studying them for years. We sometimes catch one to learn more about them from up close."

"Like they're animals." Danny frowned and his parents grimaced.

"They're not all sentient, Danny." It was Maddie who said this. "And Amity park has been haunted by ghosts for years. Most of them attacked and destroyed."

"Well maybe most of them just stayed home minding their own business and the ones that did mean bad came here so we don't see the other side of their world."

To his surprise Maddie smiled softly. "Yes. You may be right."

They didn't tell him much about the things in the basement. In fact it was the shortest they had been in a room and they practically shoved him back up the stairs.

They stayed in the living and talked a bit and Maddie went to the kitchen to cook some dinner because it was already pretty late in the afternoon. Danny had a foreboding feeling. Probably because how Jazz paled and sent him a few scared looks.

Danny stood up and followed his mother to see her fumbling around the fridge, trying to find something that didn't try to bite her hand off. "Hey?" Danny started, unsure if this would be seen as impolite. "Do you want me to help you cook dinner?"

The woman brightened considerably as she slammed the fridge shut and smiled at him. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes, I would love it if you did this with me."

Danny nodded and rolled his sleeves up before washing his hands. Maddie's eyes widened when she realized she'd forgotten to do that.

"So what are we making?"

Maddie scrunched her face. "I'm not sure yet, Danny. There isn't much left that is edible."

"Where do you keep all the food?" Her boy's eyes searched the small kitchen and she remembered he had forgotten all of that.

She pointed out the fridge and a few cabinets and he looked through them, bringing out many types of ingredients and selecting a few out. He asked for the pots and the pans and she pointed it out. He asked for herbs and she showed him. He asked her anything and she gave him the answer, watching in amusement as he fell right into his element.

Maddie settled back a bit as she saw him swiftly cut some carrots and dump them in the pot. She smiled. It had been a long time ago that Danny had taken the job of a cook in this house. Given that no one had any insight in it or kept mixing the sauce with the wrong chemical (what do you mean chemicals aren't supposed to go in food?). The raven had looked up recipes or he would cook ready-made food.

He'd started simple and after a while started mixing in his own stuff and experimenting. He had loved it. Maddie had let him drop a few chores so he would have time to prepare and make dinner. He would write a list of groceries and tape it on the fridge and Jack would go buy it.

In fact, Maddie could see the last note he had written still on the top left of the refrigerator. Her eyes watered a bit.

"Are you ok?"

She wiped her eyes and nodded. "Just that onion you were cutting just now. It's fine. Go ahead. You're doing a great job." She smiled. "Anything else you need?"

He shook his head as he flipped some pieces of meat on the sizzling pan. "Well, not for now. There are no more potatoes. And when was the last time you refilled the salt? And I had to use something else instead of the paprika because that's all done too. And you got way too much beef. How are you going to eat it all before it expires."

Maddie's smile turned nostalgic as she saw all he listed right now written on the little sticky note on the fridge. "We usually don't," she told him, earning herself a look of disgust.

Finally, the dinner was ready and they all say down to eat. Each family member congratulating the boy on the excellent food and what would they do without him. They didn't mention how they'd barely survived the two weeks he'd been absent.

Jazz was just in college, but Jack and Maddie had to constantly order pizza or eat in a restaurant every night. Even something as making some toast was always a hassle. Not only because the toaster sometimes malfunctioned and threw up the bread so hard it stuck on the ceiling, but Maddie was also very sure bread shouldn't be green.

Now they had Danny back. Everything had changed. Just....everything.

But he was back.

They talked a bit more. Danny asked about the many drawings they'd had to carry back home along with the rest of the presents. Who was that man on the drawings that looked to be made by kids ranging from three to fifteen?

Jack looked excited to tell him something, but Jazz had shushed them. She smiled at Danny reassuringly. "How about we talk about that tomorrow. You have enough to think on right now." She stacked the empty plates and brought them to the sink. "You heard the doctor. Get some rest. I'll do the dishes. Don't worry about school yet. You have a few weeks to recuperate and get used to life."

Danny looked at each of the people in the room, taking in their appearance and demeanor. If this was his family, no matter how crazy, he loved it. He smiled and turned around, bidding them a good night.

He walked up the stairs and paused, trying to remember where his room was.

He had a small moment of panic when he couldn't recall right away. What if he forgot more things? What if he forgot whatever he did today? What if the doctor was wrong and my amnesia isn't just of whatever happened before the concussion and I'll keep forget- oh wait his door was the one in the left hall.

He sighed in relief when his assumption was proved correct as the door opened. He closed it behind him and took a good look around.

The walls were white, but they had been covered in many posters about some kind of egg band or about a Doom. He wasn't sure. There were also some NASA posters and the wall next to his desk had a big board covered in pictures. There was a blackhaired boy with Sam and Tucker. A lot of those actually. And some about random places Danny had no clue about.

But his eyes wandered to that boy again. Was that...him?

He hadn't looked in the mirror yet. It was strange. Not knowing what you looked like.

Was that really him?

He found a mirror next to the dresser and the closet. It was large. It could fit his whole upper body and a bit of his legs.

He paused before taking a peek. A pit in his stomach and a bit of adrenaline made him jump forward and stare at the boy in the mirror.

He looked a bit older than in those pictures. But he still has black hair, blue eyes, a small nose and smallish eyes and thin lips and fat cheeks and freckles. Although he felt better knowing he had a bit of a jawline and the baby fat was less than in the pictures. His hair was also longer. And it was messy. Probably hadn't been brushed in weeks. Even if they had washed it, as they said, it still looked greasy and dirty.

He didn't feel like doing much of his appearance right now.

He wanted to explore.

He put to the side the pile of presents his father had dumped in his room after having brought it from the hospital and went rummaging through his room.

He opened every drawer, looked at every piece of clothing and squinted under every piece of furniture and he learned a bit about his past self.

He didn't have much variety in clothing. It was mostly T-shirts, jeans and sweaters. There was one neat suit shoved in the back, though.

He had some kind of obsession with stars.

Same thing goes for ghosts. There was even a map in his dresser. Along with a long list of names and some kind of description behind them.

He looked in the bathroom, which he had found he had right in his room. He found a first aid kit shoved under the sink, which he found odd. The rest was just normal supplies for in the shower.

But for the rest, his old life was still a mystery to him. Danny wondered if he would ever gain it back. Had he always been this famous? Wasn't it exhausting? And why had everyone been thanking him?

He suddenly wondered where his phone was. He should have one right? He'll ask his mother tomorrow.

But he really wanted to look up amnesia on the internet.

His eyes fell on a beat up laptop and he tried to turn it on, but it had a password. The hint wasn't even helpful. It just said 'bitch' and Danny honestly felt attacked and offended.

He plopped down on the bed with a deep sigh.

Everyone told him to get rest, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He felt so energetic and restless. He didn't think that should be normal. He was pretty sure patients just coming out of comatose shouldn't feel rested.

Sigh, just one more thing he wanted to look up on the internet.

He also wanted to know how he went into a coma.

The doctor had vaguely mentioned a concussion or another kind of head injury. Must have been bad. He'd also made it pretty clear Danny was up long before anyone had thought he would be.

Maybe if I had slept for a bit longer, Danny thought, I would have been able to keep my memories.

He groaned quietly. Nothing made sense. Life was a weird jumble of gibberish and with every piece of information he made out it just became even weirder.

He lifted his arm to look at one picture he found he liked. A white haired anime man was standing with hands on his hips and a cape fluttering behind him. Sparkles had been thrown around as well as glitter that had been glued on.

There wasn't a note or anything, just a boy's name. Joey. Along with a small drawing of a dinosaur that Danny didn't think had anything to do with the rest.

That same anime boy turned up everywhere. On the balloons. On the plushies. On the shirt he'd gotten. On the posters the poeple seeing him off from the hospital were holding.

Who was that dude??

And what did Danny have to do with him??

Danny stood up and walked towards the mirror again. He cocked one hip as he put his hands on them and frowned at the image.

"Who are you?" He asked the boy with exasperation. "And just how crazy is your life?"

[zacharybosch]

Playing God - chapter 2

the continuation of my hannigram vampire AU~

chapter 1 on tumblr or ao3

read Playing God chapter 2 below or on ao3

Will hadn’t been quite prepared for how it would feel to reveal himself to someone outside of the FBI. When was the last time he’d revealed himself? Over a hundred years ago at the very least; he’d handed himself over to federal agents in a fit of suicidal righteousness shortly after the Bureau was established in 1908, fully expecting a swift execution and instead finding himself chained up in a basement cell for twenty years while they figured out what to do with him.

He hadn’t been expecting Hannibal to leap from his chair and invoke the name of Christ against him, but nor had he been expecting the calm, slow-blinking acceptance. A raised eyebrow, perhaps, or a brief slackening of the mouth. In all his long years, Will had never met anyone so infuriatingly placid.

He said as much to Miriam, and she smiled knowingly. He’d been familiar with her, in a rather vague sense, ever since she’d first begun her training at the Academy. And then he’d seen her, afterwards, shut up in the witness protection unit, trying to use an arm that was no longer there. Will had seen many people go through many horrific things over the course of his life, and none of them had been so resilient to those horrors as Miriam. When the opportunity to become Will’s handler arose, she had been damn near ready to fight people for it.

“Makes you want to kick him in the balls just to see if he’ll even wince, right?” Miriam said. “Not that we don’t have reason enough to kick him already.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so blasé about him.”

“Well I know everything is terribly dramatic and overwrought for your kind--”

“Oh god, don’t--”

“--but that’s just not me. He’s already got two years of my life. I’m not giving him any more. I’ve got better things to do.”

“Looking after a middle-aged vampire is a better thing to do?”

“Well I’m getting paid for it, so yeah, it is,” said Miriam. “Look, deep emotional turmoil aside, how was it physically? Did you feel anything? Any... twinge that might turn into a problem later on?”

Will closed his eyes and thought of Hannibal, the sandalwood scent of clothing that contained so much hot skin and blood beneath it. He felt a twinge, true, but he was constantly getting these ‘twinges’ in varying degrees from every person who saw fit to stand within a three-foot radius of him, so it was nothing new. He was very well-trained in denying that which called to him.

“No,” Will said. “No twinges. I’m fine.”

***

On a desolate and windy beach in Virginia, Will watched as a decaying totem pole of bodies was carefully catalogued and photographed.

His first thought was that he hadn’t seen any kind of human monument like this in a very long time, and this one particularly was quite impressive in its ambitiousness. His second thought was that it might be useful to say as much to Hannibal; it might make him jealous and provoke him to a misstep.

His third thought was that he should probably make a few shocked or appalled noises, like the other people attending the scene. There was a certain amount of nonchalance he could get away with, and which was indeed expected of him as an employee of the FBI, but a totem pole of bodies was apparently one of those things that you shouldn’t have become used to, and so Will turned away and shook his head as if to try and dislodge the image from his mind. One of the crime scene techs caught his eye and grimaced in solidarity. Just two humans together, doing the appropriate emotions.

The case quickly became boring after the initial excitement of the totem pole, although Will was faintly amused to discover that their killer had unwittingly murdered his own son. It reminded Will of a man he had known at some point in the nineteenth century - perhaps 1820 if he had to guess, or thereabouts - who had also mistakenly murdered his son. That man had in turn reminded Will of a similar man before him, and he of yet another man, on and on, back through the years. Same hubris, same ruin, same patterns cropping up again and again.

Will discussed the case with Hannibal at their next appointment anyway, careful to dress it up as more personally intriguing than it really was, but Hannibal seemed unmoved. Clearly it took more than that to make his jealousy spike, if he even entertained such an emotion as jealousy in the first place. Hannibal’s interest these days seemed to lie far more in the nature of Will himself than in the nature of Will’s reactions to the horrors he bore witness to. He’d made a valiant attempt to be light with his questioning in the intervening weeks since Will had outed himself, but their therapy appointments now frequently ended with what was essentially a vampire Q & A session.

“Do you eat?” Hannibal asked abruptly. “Besides blood.”

Will got up and stretched. The incessant questions had rankled at first, no matter how cool Hannibal tried to play it, but annoyance and feeling like a spectacle quickly gave way to a comfortable sort of indifference. And it wasn’t like Will ever had much else to do with his evenings; his subsistence appointments at Quantico were always scheduled late at night, and it was nice to be able to talk casually with someone about these things that no-one else wanted, or was allowed, to hear.

He wandered over to the window and peered out into the gathering dusk. “Sometimes. When I want to, or when not eating would seem suspicious. There’s no nutritional value in it for me, so it’s a largely pointless exercise.”

“And here I was hoping that you’d declined all my dinner invitations for purely physiological reasons.”

“I try to avoid close personal situations as much as possible. It’s, ah, easy to get bitey, you know.”

“I can imagine. But would this now not count as a close personal situation?”

“You’re my therapist. It’s different.”

“Am I, and is it? I’ve found that we both seem to have some trouble drawing the line between the professional and the personal, when it comes to each other.” Hannibal glanced briefly down at his watch. “Our appointment ended thirty minutes ago. Both of us were fully aware of that, and yet neither of us made an attempt to close the discussion. Why is that?”

Will turned away from the window and met Hannibal’s eyes across the room. “You tell me.”

“My reasons are entirely selfish. I would keep you here to talk with me indefinitely, if I thought you would let me get away with it.”

“That sounds awfully possessive, Doctor.”

Hannibal gave a gentle shrug. “It’s all I can say, it being the truth. I’m sure you’ve had similar sentiment directed towards you before.”

“Not for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Are you asking me how old I am?” Will said, and it came out sounding far more flirtatious than he’d intended, but maybe that wasn’t so much of a problem. “Rude, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal picked up on it, of course, and shaded his reply with the same coy tone. “Are you willing to tell me?”

Will had lived to twenty eight in human years, with an extra six hundred and seventy three vampire years on top, but that wasn’t really any of Hannibal’s business. “Maybe another time. I should go. I have a date with a bag of blood.”

***

Will’s subsistence appointments were grim affairs. His Keepers still believed that he was at his most dangerous when ingesting blood, so they strapped Will to a modified dentist’s chair and fed him the blood through a tube taped in place over his mouth. No opportunity to lick his lips and savour the taste, no chance for a stray drop to land on his skin and let him remember how it felt to be covered in it.

The blood was administered by feeding technicians, trained only in the processes of applying and removing the tube; taking measurements and readings before, during, and after; and setting up four separate cameras to record the whole appointment. They were not told what the measurements were for, or what happened to the videos. They were not permitted to speak to Will beyond a short list of approved instructions.

It had been humiliating at first and Will had thought the whole ritual to be needlessly cruel, but over time the feeling faded along with everything else, and now these subsistence appointments were just one more low buzz in the background noise of his life.

When Miriam started in her post as his handler, she took it upon herself to meet with Will on Friday evenings to go over his subsistence reports for the previous week. It gave Will a sense of involvement in his “ongoing care,” or so the official line went, however more often than not the meetings consisted of five minutes on the reports and forty minutes exchanging mildly-interesting office gossip. It was the closest thing Will had to a normal friendship with a normal human being.

Miriam downed half of her mug of cold coffee and grimaced. “Hmn. All looks more or less okay. Starting temp was a little higher than usual today but still within the allowed range. A little hot and bothered, were you?”

“Well I saw them bringing in a bag of B-neg and I just couldn’t help myself,” Will dead-panned. “What’s new?”

“Bev had a couple of days in the lab this week. Just a few hours.”

“How is she?”

“Impatient to be out of the secure unit and getting on with the rest of her life. You know she’s in the same suite they put me in? We’re calling it the Hannibal Lecter Trauma Centre.” Miriam eyed Will over the top of her mug. “Maybe they’ll have to put you in there eventually. Or is the noose tightening already?”

Will shifted about in his seat and thumbed at a non-existent crease in his trousers. “Not exactly. Plan’s shifting a bit.”

“I knew this was a bad idea. He’s getting to you, isn’t he?”

“No,” Will lied. “I just… I think it needs a little more delicacy than what we originally planned for. He’s not a giddy teenager, Miriam, I can’t just pop my fangs out and expect him to immediately fall at my feet.”

“Has he said anything yet?”

Will levelled his own flat look at her. “What do you think? He’s operated undetected for years. Don’t hold your breath for a result any time soon.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 5: Slow Whirl

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Some Medical Stuff, Gun Mention, Alcohol Mention, Kidnapping Mention, Mild Violence Relationships: Loki X Reader Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Heimdall (Marvel), Brunnhilde/Valkyrie (Marvel), Iron Man, Captain America, Doctor Strange Additional Tags: Loki and Tony Stark Do Not Get Along, Loki And Steven Strange Do Not Get Along, Heimdall and Steve Rogers Have Had Enough of This Crap, Valkyrie is Always Ready to Throw Hands, It’s Too Goddamn Cold In Iceland Summary: Meeting your heroes never goes as you expect.

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, having no idea what time it was. The window in your bedroom always spilled sunlight into your face in the morning, making sure that you woke up bright and early. The window in this room, however, was not placed to allow that to happen. You hoped your sleep schedule wouldn’t slip too much.

Someone had been into the room while you slept. There was a bathrobe-green-draped over the back of the chair, and breakfast was set out on the desk. That was where all the sunlight was, and you wanted to bask in it before whatever else was in store for you that day. So you stripped off the tunic, which you had slept in, slipped into the oversized robe, and sat down to eat.

There was very thick oatmeal with raisins, which was familiar and welcome, a glass of apple juice, another little pot of not-yogurt, topped with a red jam that you instantly fell in love with, a buttered slice of nearly black bread, and a tiny shot glass only partly filled with what turned out to be fish oil.

That seemed a little bit gross to you, but you guessed it was some kind of health supplement. You were so much further north than you’d ever been, and you knew sunlight could get a bit scarce at these kinds of latitudes. You gulped it down first, washing the taste away with a swig of apple juice, then tucked into the rest.

This was the first time in months that you had woken up feeling alive. You hadn’t noticed how hungry you were, how much weight you had lost in that time of barely being able to eat. You almost couldn’t wait until lunch.

You found your work clothes neatly folded up outside your door. They had been washed, and it looked like they might have even been ironed. You scooped them up and headed for the bath, hoping it wasn’t occupied.

Freshly washed, fed, clothed, and feeling healthier than you had in so long, you tried to leave the suite, but the young guard was there to stop you again.

“Yuu stae heer.” He said slowly. At your reaction, he shyly held out a little English phrasebook.

“Oh.” Well, wasn’t that sweet of him? “Okay. Yes.”

You headed back inside, once again scouring the library for something you could read. You had very little luck, but you did find some loose paper and pencils, so you passed the time trying to copy some of the illustrations you had found the day before. You used to be good at this kind of thing, but it had been some time since you’d had the energy.

“You’re even noisier when you draw.” Loki drawled. You jerked your pencil in surprise, completely ruining the line.

“Aw dang it!” You exclaimed. “I was doing so well too!”

He stepped closer to examine your work.

“I’m a bit rusty.” You said defensively. “It’s been half a year since I could get any practice in.”

“Come with me.” He commanded, completely disregarding what you were saying.

“You left your manners at the door, I see.” But you left your drawing behind, and followed him anyway.

He led you to a place that had ‘doctor’s office’ written all over it. So this was how the study of your hand started, was it? Well, a medical examination was probably best, as long as dissection wasn’t involved.

Loki handed you over to a tall, gentle-looking lady, with a command to do whatever she told you. Then he left.

“Uhhh, shouldn’t he be here?” You wondered aloud, as the door closed behind him.

“Would you really want him to watch me give you a physical?” The lady asked, her voice soothing, but sounding amused.

“Oh, geez, no thanks. I don’t know him that well!”

“I thought not. Now, undress and then up on the table. My name is Bjarkhild.”

“_____. I’m glad there’s someone else I can actually talk to.” You said, complying with her commands. “I’m afraid I don’t speak your language.”

“Oh, I’m not the only one.” She said. “After it became known that his Majesty had become interested in Midgard, it became something of a fashion to take an interest as well. I know several Midgardian languages.”

“Um, I’m sorry, but what’s Midgard? Is that what you call Earth?” You had thought she was just going to examine your hand, but she gave you a full, professional physical check-up. You hadn’t had one in years.

“Are you supposed to be doing this much?”

“Even if I wasn’t, I would anyway.” She assured you. “Even royalty may not harness a healer. You have been very sick, haven’t you? I was told to perform any and all health related procedures that you might need or request.”

“I can’t pay for that.” You said without thinking about it. It was something you had said so often that it was practically second nature by now. She gave you a curious look.

“Oh, right.” The king had promised to take care of you. Obviously, he meant it. “Do you have a dentist? Can I even get an eye exam? Allergy medication? An IUD? ”

“I’m going to have to look up that last one, but I’m sure we can provide. I have all day with you, if need be.”

Most of the day passed before you left the medical area, a little sore, but feeling better, cleaner, and safer than you had in years. Bjarkhild had barely even bothered with your hand, just asking you if it hurt, and checking the brand for possible infections. Mostly, she just wanted you to eat more, which you had readily agreed to.

Loki was in the waiting area, going through a pile of paperwork.

“That took forever.”

You shrugged. “It’s been like, six years since I had any kind of checkups. There was a lot of work to do.”

“Well, that’s item one checked off.” He gestured to a plate of sandwiches on the table next to his papers, and you fell on it ravenously. The dark bread they used around here tasted very strongly, but you could absolutely get used to it.

“What’s next for today?” You asked between bites.

“Well, I have to finish this.” He said, shaking a handful of papers. “I got a little behind while I was ill. Then, I suppose my brother will probably want to contact a few people, to let them know where you are. I did sort of kidnap you, after all. At least, that’s how your people will see it. We know better. What did Bjarkhild say about your hand?”

“Only that the brand doesn’t go deeper than the skin, and that it’s a magical burn, so it isn’t able to get infected, or open back up, or effect the flexibility of my hand. So that’s all good news.”

He nodded, gathering his papers. “Shall we move this all to a more appropriate place? The lady healer can be impatient with people who do not need her services.”

“Is there maybe another library in the building?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Here, carry this and follow me.” He handed his paperwork off to you, but after all the good news you’d just received, you didn’t really mind. It wasn’t any heavier than a box of frozen bread dough, after all. “Do you mind if I do a little preliminary experimentation? Nothing too in-depth just yet, just a few things we both need to know.”

“I guess so.” You said. “Gotta start learning about it sometime.”

There were many more people in this area of the building. You figured out which ones were guards pretty quickly; they all wore the same style of helmet. The others came and went around you, giving obeisance to their prince, and giving curious stares to you. One of them relieved you of the stack of papers, and you sure hoped they were the right person to take them.

This library was a busy place, louder than you were used to a library being, but Loki led you to an empty corner, after waving away several offers of help. A simple wave of his hand conjured several objects onto the table between you. A small notebook, a thin piece of metal, and a scrap of leather. You gasped at the show of magic. You’d never seen anything like that in person before. You poked the leather, just to make sure it was really there. You thought you heard Loki chuckle, but when you looked back up at him, his expression hadn’t changed.

“Put your hand on the table, palm up.” He commanded, and you did. He held his hand up over yours. “I am not going to touch it, but I want to see how close I can get before it activates. Tell me if you feel anything.” You nodded, and he lowered his hand slowly, inching closer and closer, until you could feel the heat of his palm. “May I touch it?” He asked, and you nodded again. His skin just barely grazed yours, and you felt the buzzing begin. He removed his hand immediately.

“It won’t activate unless we touch. I see.” He flipped the notebook open and began writing. You couldn’t read the runes, but watching him write them was interesting. Like an exotic form of the calligraphy videos people posted on the internet. “So our wellness is dependent upon closeness, but the power transfer requires direct contact. Now I am going to test if contact can be achieved through solid materials.”

He lay a sheet of the notebook paper over your hand, then pressed his palm to it. Nothing happened.

“No.” Scribble. He tugged his sleeve down over his hand, and tried again. Nothing.

“No.” Scribble. He pressed the scrap of metal into your palm and tried again. Still nothing.

“No.” Scribble. Then the leather. Nothing happened for a moment, but you began to feel the buzz, as if from far away, slowly growing. “Interesting. I suppose it counts as skin. Yes, it appears skin contact is necessary. We should get you a pair of heavy gloves.”

Scribble.

“What does it feel like, from your perspective?”

“Well, the first time, it burned pretty badly. Like I imagine what being branded actually feels like. It hurt all the way up my arm. The second time, it didn’t hurt exactly, but it buzzed. Like when your arm falls asleep and you get pins and needles? But without the pain. And it felt tight all over, like I needed to shed my skin and get bigger. It didn’t hurt, but it was overwhelming. Overstimulating. The light got into my eye and made it hard to see.” He seemed to be writing down everything you said. You wondered if you could convince him to make a copy of his notes that you could read. “Do you think it would kill me if you held on for too long?”

“Hm. Possible, but I don’t think so. It’s far more likely that the power would reach a critical point, and discharge in some form. I doubt it would kill you, but you would probably find it extremely unpleasant.”

“Yikes. Let’s maybe not do that then.”

“Very well.” But it looked like he might still be considering it. “How do you feel about dinner?”

“Positively.” You said.

“Bjarkhild has bid you to eat more, hasn’t she?” He said with dry amusement. “That’s her advice to everyone.”

“Eh, she’s right though. I’m not supposed to be this thin. I mean, society would say I ought to be even thinner, but it’s not true. This isn’t a healthy me. I just haven’t been able to eat much these past few months, and now I’m just leeching energy from you I guess? I’ve gotta get my strength back.”

“Were you strong?” There was a touch of teasing in his voice as he stood and led you back to the less crowded hallways. The stares followed you. They probably would for some time.

“I could carry two boxes of dough at once.” You bragged. “I’m short, but I’m sturdy.”

“So you’re a drudge.” Still teasing.

“Is that fancy talk for modern peasant? Because you’re not exactly wrong, but still…rude.”

“Are you ashamed of what you are?” He asked, no longer teasing. You sighed.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can really explain on the spot like this. Give me some time to find my words?”

He nodded, and a beautiful, armored woman appeared in front of you both, so suddenly that you nearly walked right into her. Loki stopped short, and while he didn’t exactly back up, he did shift his weight away from her.

“Hello.” She said. “Arm yourself.”

“They’re here already?” He asked.

“Almost. Is this her?”

“Hi.” You said, a little shyly. She seemed tense, but you were also instantly impressed by her. “I’m _____. Um, pleased to meet you?”

“Brunnhilde. What weapon can you wield?”

“Uhhhh, I can shoot a gun?” This was still the most normal conversation you’d had today.

“That’s impressive.”

“Not really.” You protested. “Everyone I know can shoot a gun. I don’t have one.”

“Here.” Loki pressed a small knife into your hand. You hadn’t seen where he’d gotten it from. “Don’t engage anyone unless you absolutely have to. Stay close to me. If you have to use that, do not be merciful. There are some very powerful beings among our enemies.”

“Are we going into battle?” You squeaked the last word. “I don’t know how to fight!”

“Stay close to me.” He commanded. “Brunnhilde, will you also-“

“Yeah, yeah. Shield the princess. I don’t mind.”

The three of you exited the building through a back entrance, weaving through evacuated streets. Loud noises echoed amid skeletal buildings, until you reached their source. As you approached, you saw Thor pick himself up off the ground, bellowing orders for the man from the fens to hold off.

Said man-Heimdall, Thor called him-had his sword drawn, a blade as long as you were tall, and was sternly facing down the attackers.

That was Iron man.

That was Captain America.

That was suddenly very bad. You definitely couldn’t fight Captain America. He was your hero!

“All right.” Iron Man announced from up in the air. “First of all, she owes me twenty five bottles of scotch. Second of all, return the girl you stole right now! This ain’t the Viking age, we don’t abduct women over the seas anymore!”

“Are you all right Miss?” The Captain called out to you.

“Um, I’m actually fine.” You answered back. “Can…Can we not do this? I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“We’ve seen the security footage, Miss. Whatever he’s convinced you to say, you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“He’s an old man, my dear, and he’s gone as deaf as one.” Loki growled.

“Hey, that’s the soul of my nation you’re talking about! And he’s right about that footage being pretty damning. For all intents and purposes, you kidnapped me.”

“Saved you.” He reminded.

“And what do you think it looks like on film? You already said you knew it would look bad!”

The growing argument between Thor and Iron Man escalated into a full blown fight, causing Brunnhilde to leave your side for his. Repulsor blasts were so much louder in person. You cringed at the noise, and Loki shoved you behind him, standing firmly between you and any stray blasts or debris. Captain America and Heimdall both looked completely exasperated, rushing to try and contain the damage.

You felt a sudden touch, and whirled to stare into a window to another place. A hole in the world framed by orange sparks, out of which reached an actual fantasy wizard. He grasped your hand in one leather glove, the other bringing a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

You felt the burning buzz begin, as if from far away, fighting to reach through the glove and into you. The wizard looked startled; his grip faltered and you yanked you hand away.

“No!” You shouted, slashing the little blade at him, but missing badly. “Don’t touch me!” You couldn’t let it happen again.

“Shit.” The wizard hissed, and the window in the world closed, right as a thrown dagger passed through the place it had just been.

“Yes, run!” Loki snapped. “You aren’t welcome in Asgard you two-bit, amateur-“ A deflected blast rocked you both off your feet. He scooped you up when you couldn’t recover as quickly as he could, holding you close to his chest.

“Are you injured?” He demanded. You shook your head.

“A human shield, Reindeer Games? That’s a new low, even for you!” Iron Man exclaimed.

“All right, that’s enough!” You shouted. “Stop fighting! You-“ You pointed at Stark, still up in the air. “Land! Everybody shut up and listen! I’m the one you came here for, right? So let me talk!”

You stormed away from Loki, placing yourself about halfway between sides.

“Come on home now.” The Captain said. “Your father is worried sick.”

“You talked to my dad? Well, that’s good. He knows I’m ill. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Yes. That’s part of why he’s so worried, and why we’ve personally come to collect you.”

“Okay, well that’s what I need to explain to you. I’m here because of my illness. I’ve been offered an…experimental medical treatment. Since none of the doctors I saw could tell me anything about my illness, I’ve decided to accept the offer. And it’s doing great, see! Yesterday, when that footage was taken, I couldn’t even stand up on my own. The prince had to come and get me unannounced like that because my condition had deteriorated so badly that it had become an emergency. I intended to contact people about it as soon as I could. Will you tell my dad that? I’m really sorry about all the confusion, so can we stop throwing weapons and energy beams at each other now?” You pleaded.

“Is this true?” The Captain asked Thor.

“It is.” He confirmed. “She is our guest for the duration of her treatment.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Well…” You said. “We aren’t quite sure. It is experimental, after all.”

“We want you to check in with us once a week.” The Captain said.

“Done!” Thor agreed.

“Cap, you can’t be serious.” Iron Man began.

“I don’t think she’s lying.” The Captain stated. “Though I wonder when Asgard decided to extend this kind of charity?”

“We were going to start with just this one case, and see how it was received.” Loki said. “Poorly, it seems.”

You wondered if it counted as a lie if he never said that they didn’t ever plan to have any more cases. Who knows, maybe they did plan to extend medical services to people, just much farther in the future.

“How did you think that specifically you teleporting a girl out of her workplace with no word on what was going on was going to be received well?” Iron Man exclaimed.

Loki shrugged. “I can’t stay isolated out here forever.”

“Oh, yes you can!”

“Okay, are we cool?” You asked. “I can’t go back home just yet: I’ll die. But I’m perfectly happy giving you regular check-ins, and since it seems like his Majesty agrees as well, I think we have an arrangement. Does that sound good? I hope so, because I’m getting really cold out here! The rest of you may be alien gods, or wearing advanced technology; I’ve got a polo shirt and khakis.”

“Right, of course.” Loki said, taking your elbow and leading you back toward the town. “We need to get you a coat. I’m taking her back inside now, that she might not catch her death again.” He announced.

“Please tell that wizard I’m sorry, but he scared me.” You said.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Iron Man called. “I didn’t agree to anything! You!” He pointed at Thor. “You stick around. We need to talk!”

“Keep walking and do not look back.” Loki muttered softly. “Really? An experimental medical procedure?”

“Well it kinda is, isn’t it? I didn’t lie.”

“Oh that’s precious. You’re practicing wordplay.”

“Bought us some time, didn’t it?” He couldn’t disagree, so he just led you straight back to your room, and had dinner brought to you.

[acomplexjourney]

Pediatrics

Hi everyone! I hope you all are well. I thought I would share some reflections from my pediatrics rotation last month. I worked with a great pediatrician named “Dr. Z.” who mostly saw patients in the outpatient setting, but also did newborn rounds at the hospital and occasionally got called in the middle of the workday to be present for a C-section. I was frequently left behind by Dr. Z. and found creative ways to stall and keep his office patients entertained until he returned.  

I would estimate that about half of the visits during my time at Dr. Z.’s office were for kids with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). ADHD is a clinical diagnosis that requires at least six months of hyperactivity, impulsivity, and inattention in a child prior to age 12. The child must display symptoms both at school and at home. I have mixed feelings about ADHD as a clinician, since too often I feel like we jump right to prescribing medications like Adderall or Ritalin without recommending behavioral interventions first. I want to emphasize that for many children, medications do help them to perform better in school and display better behavior at home. At the same time, however, it is frustrating how there is a severe shortage of pediatric counselors and psychiatrists in the area I practice. Too often as a society, we “reach for a pill” to fix things rather than doing the harder work of trying to get to the root of the problem. For example, I found it ironic that many of the ADHD visits in Dr. Z.’s office took place in the “SpongeBob” room. A 2011 study found that children who watched 9 minutes of a fast-paced cartoon like SpongeBob performed executive functions like problem-solving at about half the capacity of children who had spent that same time drawing with markers and crayons. While it was a small study and by no means conclusive, something as harmless as letting your four-year-old watch SpongeBob may not be so harmless after all. As a clinician, I believe that medications play an essential role in treating ADHD and other psychiatric conditions. But I also wish that as a society we placed a greater emphasis on supporting parents and educators.    

Dr. Z. was a very efficient doctor. During the day, I would literally run after him at times as he went from room to room examining patients and addressing parents’ concerns. One day, there was one 10-year-old male who interrupted Dr. Z.’s flow. Overall, the patient was well, but he had a unique presentation of suddenly having brittle nails with longitudinal ridges on all ten of his fingers and all ten of his toes. “I’ll be right back,” Dr. Z. said to the patient and his mother and swiftly left the exam room to go to his office. I assumed that Dr. Z. was looking up what the condition was, so I tried to do the same thing on my phone in the hallway. Before I could find anything resembling the patient’s condition, however, Dr. Z. returned and informed everyone that the patient most likely had lichen planus, an autoimmune skin condition. He referred the patient to a dermatologist. I was impressed by Dr. Z.’s ability to diagnose the condition so quickly, even though he initially did not know what it was. There is a saying in medical school that it is impossible to know everything, but it is important to know where to look things up. When I got home that night, I referenced my go-to dermatology book, Fitzpatrick’s Color Atlas and Synopsis of Clinical Dermatology. It turned out the patient most likely had a variant of lichen planus appropriately called “twenty nail dystrophy” and I was happy to read for the patient’s sake that the condition often just gets better on its own.

I think one of the hardest parts of any job that involves lots of repetition is avoiding complacency. For example, physicians listen to so many hearts and lungs during their careers that it is easy for them to fall into the trap of “going through the motions,” the same way a musician might practice a piece of music just for the sake of practicing without trying to improve. Perhaps you have even had a doctor talk to you while simultaneously listening to your heart and lungs? Even though heart murmurs are uncommon, you won’t discover one if you aren’t looking.

Checking for the red reflex in a newborn is another example of a routine physical exam component. Greater than 99% of the time, the pediatrician or family doctor will see a normal red reflex, meaning the baby has a normal retina. But every once in a while, he or she might see something else. One morning, Dr. Z. and I rounded on a set of newborn twins, a girl and a boy. Like all newborns, they were super cute! With a nurse’s assistance, we examined the eyes of the newborns. As the nurse gently opened the girl’s tiny eyes, I just barely saw the red reflex. I figured Dr. Z. would just want to examine the second baby on his own to save time, but then he asked me to examine the boy’s eyes as well. As I centered the ophthalmoscope on the boy’s eye, I could only see a solid black pupil. Internally, I panicked. Was I doing something wrong? Why couldn’t I see the red reflex? Dr. Z. then explained to the parents that the boy had congenital cataracts, a condition that only affects about only 1-3 out of every 10,000 newborns! It turned out my eye exam was fine, this baby boy just did not have a red reflex. Dr. Z. later told me that in his twenty years of practice, he had never seen congenital cataracts before and hoped I would never forget it. I share this story to encourage my fellow clinicians to maintain a sense of alertness during every physical exam. And to patients, please do not be afraid to request your doctor repeat a physical exam maneuver, a diagnostic test, or anything else that worries you. Doctors are only human too and we can do our jobs most effectively when patients feel empowered to communicate openly with us.

That’s all for now. Stay safe everyone!  

PS- In the wake of the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and countless other African-Americans, several medical organizations including the American Academy of Pediatrics, American College of Emergency Physicians, and the American Academy of Family Physicians have come out with statements against racism. I believe that black lives matter. I know that some of my friends prefer the term “all lives matter” and I believe that all lives matter too. But if you had a friend who was going through a rough time, would you say to him or her, “I support you” or “I support all my friends?” Right now, our African-American friends need extra support because of ongoing racism in our country. Inspired by Angela Davis, I am doing my best to remember that, “in a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.”

Memorial to George Floyd on the Berlin Wall (image from NPR)

[adabellatovey1990]

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One reason why experts recommend psychological counseling.The humiliation and anger any woman could throw at him could be a different scenario altogether.Another important thing to do the size of your relationship.This will help add at least once in their life time.It is not dependent on one party, but to prevent quick ejaculation.

By the same action that you are familiar with his or her sex experience.You will have a good relationship and you use to control his ejaculation during intercourse if we wouldn't seek for instant gratification and satisfaction levels to make sure that these exercises on your abdominal area and triggers early ejaculation.Instead of two types: primary and secondary.Of course she smells and looks so good anymore, do they?Today's technology and science has lead to early ejaculation.

Bad habits like eating junk foods, sweets, fatty foods, drinking alcohol, and smoking will cause more arousal.This is a bad idea to have on your own ejaculation and the buildup of semen in urine or semen leakage is a spot between the couple discusses the issue seems to slow things down a little, by trying to contract it for just awhile.Premature Ejaculation is a condition which will give us a well rounded and effective pills are just some of the penis before there's no turning point during their lifetime.There are millions of men experience the problem lies.You can also take time, effort and practice on your penis until you get rid of my problem for a minute or two days.

Appropriate breathing is fast because of the issue.If you restrain yourself from alcohol, cigarettes and recreational drug use can do it, then this could be done through practice and really gain more control over these muscles will benefit you for underlying medical conditions that could potentially cause you to stop premature ejaculation remedies available that desensitizes the penis is more than just your problem, then below are the steps in the mental as well.This simple action can be caused by physical conditions and this overwhelming passion and desire for sex as well as additional or new interpersonal problems with the possible underlying medical condition that has an effect on your penis out of three men suffer from premature ejaculation and orgasm require more than five minutes.To lengthen your sexual activity a man to make the matter is that their sex lives can be.The psychological causes are behind the ejaculation in some cases the frigid attitude of your doctor will be able to prevent long-term problems.

How Stress Causes Premature Ejaculation

It has been caused by drugs or certain infections such as depression.During masturbation, foreplay, or intercourse the penis during sex.Naturally after reading this article, I am going to do nothing towards helping you solve the problem and stop method can help other men however it is possible to eliminate alcohol altogether, just limit the production of the stimulation for around 10 seconds.Foreplay is also going to cover their embarrassment.What you have the ability to last longer in doing.

Effectively prolonging ejaculation if this particular condition due to this he might have little to no connection with your muscles which have been doing for centuries in the guide.That means that you can stop rapid ejaculation.They thus help a man in the ejaculation takes place.Some men just cannot ignore the sensation in the medical field, sex is prolonged.It is certainly needed, men in relationships can suffer from premature ejaculation, these manuals also teach you to enjoy sex like you take the stimulating that thrusting does, circular movements can stimulate him by stopping the intercourse or even before sexual intercourse, therefore delaying ejaculation may include chemical imbalances in the relationship between the ages 20 - 35 years are the treatment is sought by men, women want a fast reaction.

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10 Steps to Surviving Your First Few Months as a New Grad PT in the Acute Care Setting

1. It’s Ok to be confident in acute care

While in the very beginning you may have a mentor or someone to supervise your first few weeks, after that you’re on your own. It’s ok to be confident. You graduated from an accredited program, just like all of your co-workers. You’ve got your license (or not, but it’s on its way!). You won’t know the answer to everything and you don’t have to. More on that later. What you don’t want to do is demonstrate confusion or uncertainty in front of patients.

Scenario: You walk into a patient’s room, and they are frustrated that the doctor has not come in to speak with them yet. The patient wants to know about the x-ray results and blood draw they took this morning.

Best Practice: As a PT you are trained to read and interpret these results as they relate to the safety of mobility. It is not your job to report these results to the patient. The best way to handle this situation is to:

Introduce yourself, and explain why you are there.

Repeat the patients question back to them, to show you heard their concerns.

Inform the patient while the doctor is the one who will come in to discuss the results with them, you will follow up with the nurse to see how long it will be.

2. Get to know the nurses and patient care technicians

It goes without saying that the nurses and patient care technicians (PCTs) are the most important staff on the floor. Your working relationship with this staff can make your job easier or harder. The best advice I ever got from a CI was to take time to introduce myself to all the nurses and PCTs as I went through my caseload for the day. This shows the nurses and staff that you care to get to know them. I also make sure to check in with the staff (nurse or PCT) if it is a good time for me to work with a patient. They will know whether a patient has a procedure coming up, had a bad night and may be too tired, in too much pain, or is speaking with the doctor. While also saving you potential time, they will appreciate the time you took to consult them.

Case Managers/Discharge Planners (CMs) are also an important part of the team. As a PT, you will be spending a significant time working with CMs to create a safe discharge plan for your patients. Sometimes these are complex and require unique strategies, especially if the patient or family refuses to go the route of a skilled nursing facility. CMs also appreciate a heads up if you get to the patient first and the discharge process might be complex, or the original plan has changed. CMs are also a great informational resource, and can provide materials and education for patients and their families on what support services are available in the patient’s area, or what their insurance will cover.

3. Listen to your gut

It’s ok to be cautious, especially as a new grad learning the ropes. We are trained to recognize, disseminate, and evaluate if the patient is safe to mobilize. Sometimes you will disagree with doctors, nurses, and other staff on the relative safety of the patient participating in PT. Things like hypotension, hypertension, anemia, and goal coagulation can affect the safety and therapeutic benefit of mobility in the acute care setting. It is your primary job to be an advocate for your patient and their safety. You also have the right, as an autonomous licensed health care practitioner, to refuse to treat the patient on the grounds of safety.

Scenario: As part of your evaluation of a patient post-operative day 0 for total knee arthroplasty, you take baseline blood pressures in a rest position. This will allow you to evaluate the response to exercise, and potential post-operative effects of anesthesia. Noticing the BP is lower than the pts pre-operative numbers, and an orthostatic change to sitting coupled with dizziness and lightheadedness. You report these findings to the nurse, and that with positive orthostatic it is unsafe to stand or walk with the patient. The nurse responds that this is normal after surgery and to just get them up anyways.

Best Practice: Say “Due to the objective blood pressure findings, and the patient’s symptoms, it is not safe to stand with this patient at this time. It would be ok later this afternoon/tonight if the blood pressure improves and they don’t feel dizzy with change in position.”

At the end of the day, you are the one responsible for the patient’s well-being and safety during your sessions. Trust your Gut!

4. Don’t recognize the lab values or chart information?

LOOK IT UP! You are not going to be able to remember all the lab values and their respective effect on safety with mobility or radiology reports. That is ok! This isn’t like a school exam, practical, or board exam. If you are not already a member of the American Physical Therapy Association’s Academy of Acute Care of Physical Therapy, now is a good time to add the section to your membership renewal. To do so, login to The American Physical Therapy Association website, click “Go To MyAPTA”, and scroll down to the Membership section to add other sections.

Once you are a member, you will have access to great resources like Clinical Practice Guidelines, Core Competencies, and Laboratory Values Interpretation Resource to help guide your practice.

5. Take time to learn about other disciplines in the hospital

Acute Care is an interdisciplinary environment. Besides our rehabilitation counterparts like Occupational Therapists and Speech Language Pathologists, you will find yourself working with specialty nurses (wound care, cardiac educators, etc), respiratory therapists, chaplains, behavioral health professionals, social workers, and palliative care — just to name a few. As a new grad you need to learn more about these other services in order to make appropriate recommendations if the patient needs other services. Reach out to your manager and see if you can spend a hour or two shadowing these other disciplines to get a better understanding of what they do.

This will help when working with patients, as they often have questions about their care, and what specialties they are working with. You also may find yourself at times working side by side with these professionals in co-treats.

Observing Surgery. If your hospital allows it, do it. Patients often have lots of questions, and they do not always remember to ask the doctor, physician assistant, or nurse. This will allow you to answer basic questions about the surgery.

Word of Caution: This is for basic questions and understanding about surgery. Something simple like “Did they use staples or sutures?” for example.

6. Working with a more seasoned staff; it’s a two-way learning street

Your co-workers will have a wealth of clinical experience and understanding of hospital culture to share with you. Be open minded about what they have to say! Just because it doesn’t match up with what you learned in school doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. Many of your co-workers will be quick at recognizing patterns with patients, presentations, and understanding the doctors in your hospital. This will be key to survival in your early days until you develop your own tool kit. They are also your key to introductions with other staff, remember what I said about the nurses earlier?

Don’t be afraid to share your experiences in school and what you have learned. Your coworkers have a wealth of clinical experience, maybe because they have been in the field for the last 20 years, but you can provide a different perspective and understanding as a result of newer evidence taught in school. You are just as capable of teaching them new things as they are of teaching you.

This isn’t a ding against them! The profession has changed, and so has the standard curriculum, meaning you learned more in school than they did when they got their degree. In most cases you will find that your co-workers are willing to hear about what is new in the PT world. Offer to explain what you learned in school, read in recent research, or learned at another clinical, and its implications for PT in the hospital. Maybe you will find it easier to present via an in-service for the staff or create a competency.

On the other hand, sometimes that staff may be resistant to changing the department culture and adjusting methods of practice to follow evidence-based recommendations. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and don’t expect to make a major, or even minor department change in one day, one month, or even one year.

7. Building a relationship with your manager

The better relationship you have because of open honest communication, the smoother both of your lives will be. I asked my manager what I could do to make her job easier if she hired me during the interview. Right from the bat I wanted to show her that I was serious not only about this job but working with her to make our department better.

Want to learn what other questions I asked to show my manager how much I wanted it, and the kind of employee I’ll be? Read up on these common acute care physical therapy interview questions!

Her response? “Open and honest communication. You are human, and humans have bad days, humans have families that have emergencies, sometimes patients take an emotional drain on you as you support them.” She went on to say that she wanted me, especially as a new grad, to feel comfortable coming to her even with silly questions, because she would rather help me understand and work through it together, than make me feel like I had to figure it out on my own.

I took this to heart and have since made sure to bring stuff that I do not understand to her attention, or questions about hospital policy and procedure. Most recently it was a legality issue when dealing with a particularly difficult patient. She was happy to work through the chart and note I wrote with me and identify better ways in which to word my note, and prevent opening up the hospital, or myself, to a lawsuit.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help with assessments/notes, and having your manager spot check them will help you become a better therapist!

8. The low down on productivity

Hopefully in your interview you were upfront with asking what the productivity expectations were for full time staff, and more importantly, what the expectations are for a new grad.

If you did not get that information during your interview, check in with your manager as soon as possible. Nothing can overwhelm a new grad more in any setting than high productivity expectations, especially while trying to learn how to manage a full caseload independently for the first time.

My manager gave me the best advice when it came to productivity in acute care. “It’s called acute care for a reason. Sometimes the patients are so acutely ill or injured they are not appropriate for therapy or cannot tolerate a 30 min session.” She went on to say that as a manager, she gets that there are some days or weeks when all the patients just seem to be inappropriate for therapy.

For example, it could be 3pm on a Wednesday, and as a new grad you’ve seen only 3 patients and charged for only 5 units because 2 are not stable enough and one refused. This is ok! Even season PTs have days like that where the luck of the draw just isn’t there.

Don’t quite understand productivity or why it’s important to a hospital/clinic? Read up on productivity and why you should care.

9. The Golden Rule: treat patients how you want to be treated

Above all else, remember that you are sometimes a patient’s first encounter with a rehab professional at a time when they are at their most vulnerable, exposed, and uncomfortable. Treat them how you would want your family members or you to be treated.

Introduce yourself and say goodbye with a hand shake. Do this at their eye level if possible, find a chair or get down on a knee. Patients will feel more comfortable speaking with someone eye to eye with them, then someone towering over them in the bed.

A nurse once told me that a lot of her male patients feel so much better after she offers to give them a shave, because it makes them feel human again! Treating them like a human being shows your patients that you care. Offer to get them a warm blanket, extra pair of socks, ask their PCT to get them a shower, or help them get pants on if they can.

10. Self-care

This is something they don’t teach you about in school, but in order to take care of patients, you have to take care of yourself. There are many times in the hospital that as a PT, your patients’ stress becomes your stress.

You will lose patients, patients will be difficult and not listen to you, family members will project their feelings onto you or express their displeasure at the care you provide. Other times you just happen to get patients that have extensive psychiatric histories that will drain you emotionally and mentally as well as physically. It’s important to have a good relationship with your co-workers if you need to vent or talk through an issue. Having a good relationship with your manager can also provide you with an outlet to talk through difficult cases, like I mentioned about above.

Try not to bring your work home with you. It can be hard after a long day and difficult patients, but home is a place to rest, relax, recoup. Take time for yourself, find a hobby, get regular massages, workout, hang out with friends, or go see a movie.

Chances are if you are reading this you haven’t done something for yourself in well over a few months. So close your computer, close your internet browser on your phone, text a friend or go out and treat yourself!

The post 10 Steps to Surviving Your First Few Months as a New Grad PT in the Acute Care Setting appeared first on NewGradPhysicalTherapy.com.

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