#then the alternative I’ve been looking at is PA school

[erik-christine]

why can’t I just get the spoilers for my life like I wanna know if a career change will actually be better or will I just be even more stressed 😭

[rebelliousstories]

I’d Risk My Health

Relationship: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Adelaide “Honey” Corbin

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Warnings: Brief strong language, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 2,136

Part of the Young Love and Old Money Series

Chapter 7//Chapter 9

Main Masterlist: Here

Summary: Ah… A wonderful day at the mall. Where nothing can go wrong.

June 28th, 2010

“Yes, mother. I’m just going to the mall with some friends.” Adelaide sat in the family car, enduring a lecture from her aforementioned mother.

“You better. I will not have you running around with that poor boy. You’re about to be married anyways. We don’t need that scandal disrupting this union.” Kasey Corbin’s perfectly manicured finger pointed at her daughter. Her sisters sat next to her, snickering at her. Adelaide simply sat there as the mall came into view. She tried to quietly get out of the car, and not endure her family for another minute, however her sisters had a different idea. Adelaide was shoved back by Eleanor and had her hair tugged by Priscilla. She took a deep sigh, and left to go into the building.

“Now girls,” their mother addressed them, “we’ll meet back at the car no later than 4 o’clock sharp. One minute late and you’ll be left behind and have to find your own way home.” Adelaide felt her mother’s eyes burn into her head. They were dismissed, and Adelaide felt like she could finally breathe. She walked around with an iced coffee in hand; her own little treat while she was away from her family. The young girl walked into the alternative clothing store and found something to try on. The door to the changing room locked behind her, and she tried to make herself busy. The time was 10:05 AM. Now she waited. The skirt she tried on was adorable but her mother would never let her have it in the house. A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and a piece of paper dropped underneath her door.

Honey.

She breathed out a sigh of relief that she was holding in. He clothes were switched back to normal, and she rushed out of the changing room. When she was out, she barreled straight into a familiar chest.

“Hey, Honey.” The young man sighed out, glad to have her in his arms once again.

“Hi, Robby.” She breathed out, very similar to how he responded. He pressed a kiss to her head, and squeezed her tight.

“Ready to get started?” He asked, pulling away from the hug. Their hands linked together and they made their way out of the store.

“Let’s go get ice cream, please!” Adelaide said giddily. Robert chuckled at her excitement, but let himself be pulled towards the food court. He paid much to Adelaide’s protest, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“So what’s been going on with you, Robby?” The young girl spooned another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into her mouth.

“Just been preparing for boot camp. Momma ain’t too happy but pa is. I’m nervous about this final year of school but I know I’ll make it through. What about you?” His rocky road cone was slowly disappearing.

“Well, I’ve got to be prepared for a wedding in a few months. Once I’m done with high school, and eighteen, I’m getting married. Honestly your life looks better than mine.” She states sadly. Her eyes downcast, and her smile nonexistent. Robert reached his hand across and held hers.

“I promise ya, Honey. Imma get you outta here one day.” His tone was filled with so much optimism that she no longer had.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to, Robby.” Adelaide stated. Robert smiled sadly and brought her up to look at him.

“Come on. Let’s go get candy.” And with that, they left to go explore the mall. Their first stop was to the movie theater to get tickets to a showing of Marmaduke. They had about an hour before they needed to be back at the theater, so the next stop; candy. The bulk candy shop was near the theater and Adelaide was looking forward to getting candy. Her mother didn’t allow normal treats in her home, so getting these, very much like the coffee, was a treat.

“You gonna save some room for popcorn later in the movie, Honey?” Robert chuckled at her eagerness to grab all the gummies for herself. Coca Cola bottle gummies filled a bag on their own, while Adelaide was smiling up at him. He paid for her candy, and Adelaide was getting tired of fighting with him on this. They walked around for a while, snacking and window shopping in different stores.

Adelaide and Robert were in a store, just looking at video games, when she saw a group walk in front of the window. Her sisters, and her sisters’ friends traveled with copious amounts of bags in their hands. One of the girl’s eyes came to scan her environment and locked eyes with Adelaide; her eyes widened in size when she noticed the boy next to her. Oh no.

Her stomach dropped. She felt a cold rush push through her body. That same girl she was looking at turned towards one of her sisters and said something, who then proceeded to look over at her sister inside the video game store, with an evil grin. Adelaide went to grab Robert and pull him to a deeper part of the store.

“Addie!” A shrill voice rang out. The girl stopped, and prayed that her sister hadn’t seen her. But a hand on her shoulder dashed any hopes that she hadn’t seen them in this part of the store. She felt her whole body tense up, and prayed that her sister didn’t notice. Robert still held her hand, but was looking cautiously at the girl that held Adelaide in her grasps.

“So, Addie,” one of her sisters draped herself over her shoulders, “who is this handsome stud? Aren’t you going to introduce us like a good sister?” This was definitely Eleanor. Eleanor was super boy crazy, and never missed an opportunity to meet and play with new ones. It didn’t matter that she was marrying a rich socialite.

“He’s my friend, Eleanor. Don’t you have enough male attention?” Adelaide questioned, shrugging off her sister’s arm.

“You don’t have to be rude, Adelaide. We were just curious.” Priscilla chimed in. The youngest of the Corbin women turned to face her.

“His name is Robert and we’re leaving.” Adelaide quickly grabbed the boy’s hand and walked out of the store. Robert stayed silent as they walked to the other end on the mall, Adelaide desperately trying to get away from her sister’s. She stopped at the end, and let out a deep sigh. Her whole body was tense.

“One day. I just want one day that they don’t torment me.” Her tone was defeated. She looked down dejectedly; she wasn’t good at hiding her emotions in front of him. Robert walked over to her and pulled the girl into his arms. She gripped his broad shoulders tight and let out a shaky breath. He readjusted his grip and gently tried to get her to calm down. Her breath wasn’t picking up which was a good sign, but she was still incredibly tense.

“One day, Honey, we’re gonna get out of here. You ain’t never gonna have t’ face them if you don’t wanna. I’m gonna take you away from here.” Adelaide took in his words. She didn’t believe them with how things were looking for their lives, but maybe someday those promises would be made a reality.

“Now, you ready for the movie?” Robert pulled away from his companion, and pointed them to the movie theater that was behind them. Adelaide smiled and nodded. She eventually gave up protesting when Robert bought them concessions, plenty of popcorn and soda to last them for the movie. Adelaide tried to keep her mind on the movie but it kept drifting to her sisters. Were they going to tell their mother? She had worked so hard for well over a year to sneak Robert back into her life. There were several times that her mother almost caught on but she never fully caught them. All Adelaide was doing was trying to enjoy her last bits of freedom before she was married off to some snotty socialite that was only after her because of her parents' money. Robert’s hand brought her head to his shoulder and made her lay down during the previews. She smiled and hugged his arm closer to her body while they watched the film roll.

“All I’m saying is now, I want a Great Dane.” Adelaide commented as they exited the movie theater. Robert chuckled at the girl’s excited speech. As they left the film, all Adelaide could talk about was the fact that she wanted to have a Great Dane one day and train it to do tricks and have it do silly shenanigans like Marmaduke.

“Honey, you gotta train great Dane’s really well. That’s a really big dog.” He pulled out some of the candy they got earlier and popped some gummies into his mouth. Adelaide reached across and stole some gummies as well. She looked at her watch; they only had a couple more hours left together.

“Do you wanna go get some actual lunch, Robby?” She asked sweetly. Said boy smiled down at her as he stopped in front of her. She gazed at him, silently begging him to get some food.

“Are you gonna complain about me paying for you, if we go get food?” His smile was teasing as Adelaide looked away bashfully. His hands came up and moved her face back to his.

“Are you?” He asked one more time.

“No…” she said shyly. He released her and grabbed her hand, before dragging her away to the food court. They sat down with their food and enjoyed their day together. Neither one chose to acknowledge that this might be the last time they can have a day like this for a while. They laughed, joked, and smiled all the way through their meal. But once Adelaide’s watch beeped at 3:00 PM, they wrapped it up. They walked down to where her car would be pulling around in an hour and sat down in an area with some chairs nearby.

“You ain’t gonna forget about me while you’re away at boot camp right?” Adelaide quietly asked, playing with Robert’s hands.

“How could I forget about you, Honey?” This made her stop.

“I mean, my family seems to do a pretty good job at it.” Robert brought her into his chest.

“I can’t forget about you, Honey. Not even if I tried. You’ve been by my side forever. I ain’t gonna forget you ever cause I-” he paused, unsure about continuing. But Adelaide caught on. She pulled away and looked Robert in the eyes.

“What’s that, Robby?” She questioned, trying to encourage him to continue.

“Doesn’t matter.” He looked away, unable to continue to look her in the eyes. But the hand on his chin made sure that he couldn’t escape her eyes.

“Robby, what were you gonna say? Come on, it’s just me. You can tell me.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to get the words to come out, but nothing would release. Right as he was about to talk, Adelaide’s watch beeped, alerting them of 3:45 PM.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go Robby.” She stood up so quickly, she almost fell back down. Robert got up to stabilize her and was given a very fast hug, and kiss on the cheek. Before she ran away, Robert was able to tug her back and give her a longer hug, and her own kiss on the cheek.

“Robby,” she giggled as the boy tried to keep her with him, “I’ve gotta go. But write to me. I’ll talk to you later. Bye Robby!” And she ran away. Robert smiled sadly as she left. He plopped down onto the chair that he had occupied and watched the direction she left in.

“I love you, Honey.” He had to get back home now, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he wasn’t going home alone.

Meanwhile, Adelaide was trying to school her expression as she approached her family waiting outside the car. But something wasn’t right. Her sisters were already there, but the mischievous smiles on both of their faces made her heart fall into her stomach. The girls got in, and her mother was already waiting inside. They all sat down and buckled up before their mother turned to them; she looked directly at Adelaide.

“I thought I told you, you were never going to see that poor boy again.” In her hands was her phone, and pulled up was a picture from earlier that day where you could clearly make out Adelaide; next to her was the clear image of Robert. She felt the emotion well up inside her. Of course her sisters wouldn’t miss a moment to torment Adelaide.

Tag: @blessupblessup

[dragon-of-dreams]

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

 Wordcount: 2,800

 In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

           After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

           What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

           According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

           You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

           You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

           Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

           So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

           Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

           You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

           “Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

           “Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

           On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

           The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

           At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

           As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[bmntgirl]

New Beginnings?

So this story is inspired by gglitch1dd’s post about Small town My Hero Academia. Honestly go read her story Sweet-bee if you like Kiribaku x reader; it’s amazing! I’ve reread it so many times.

So my story is loosely inspired (I made some changes but barely) and involves an OC. After reading her post and remembering the first season of Once upon a Time, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and decided to write it. Very much just for fun and considering continuing it; I just don’t have the ending figured out.

Mostly fluff. Let me know if there is anything; triggers or errors.

Italics are thoughts.

Enjoy!

Summary: an unknown quirk sends all of UA and some others to a small town... in an alternate reality! No memories of their real lives and no quirks. A calm, peaceful life where everything is perfect. A bit too perfect.

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

 A new life?

Lizelle holds Eri close under the desk as a villain rant and raves through the school’s PA system. The red feather necklace around Lizelle’s neck shake as Hawks sends his feathers throughout the building to find the villain.

Class 1A and 1B had gathered for a joint training session with most of their mentors also there to see the progress. Lizelle was there to keep watch over the students’ emotional states as they go through the course because of her quirk ‘Colourful Emotions’.

While she is Hawks’ personal assistant, she is a family friend of Present Mic and had been living with him and Aizawa since she was a teenager until she was old enough to care for herself. She had become close to the 1A class and Eri. And ever since working with Hawks, Mirko had become a good friend.

Everybody had gathered for the training session when something shook the building and a bunch of goons invaded the premises. Lizelle had grabbed Eri who was sitting with her and took cover under Present Mic’s desk while he went down from the presenter booth to join the fight. Then who they assume is the main boss started making threats over the announcement system.

Lizelle focused on the villain’s voice to hear the last part of his speech. He chuckled darkly:

“Aren’t you heroes tired of it all? Don’t you wanna live a normal life…?”

Lizelle gasped as she noticed a strange mist filling the room and everywhere else.

“… and leave the rest of us alone?”

Lizelle peeked over the over desk to notice all the heroes starting to faint. Her necklace stills and she knows it got to Hawks as well. She coughed trying to get the mist out. She heard Eri cough as well.

“Eri-berry, hold your breath.”

Both she and Eri hold their breaths but then a blinding light fills everybody’s vision before it went pitch black.

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

Lizelle groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. She looked around the bedroom while reaching for her phone to shut off her alarm. She yawns, stretches and runs a brush through her long golden blonde hair before making her way out, down the stairs and into the kitchen where Hizashi Yamada otherwise known by his radio show personality, Present Mic is busy cooking breakfast.

“Morning Uncle Zashi.”

“Morning Lizzy. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. One thing is for sure. The bed was not the reason for Shinso’s insomnia.”

Hizashi chuckled: “Glad to hear it’s not that at least.”

She smiled as she sat down.

“Thanks for letting me stay in Hitoshi’s old room for now.”

Hizashi smiled at her from the stove: “No problem. You know you are like my own daughter. I’ll always help.”

Lizelle smiled: “Why couldn’t you be my real dad?”

“Then I would to have had you when I was 9.”

“Well you were a flirt since you were young if Aunt Nem is to be believed.”

The two laugh at that.

“Yet I met my soulmate in high school and won him over,” He pressed a hand to his heart.

“More like you didn’t leave me alone.”

The two turn to see Shouta Aizawa walk into the kitchen carrying a very sleepy Eri.

“You didn’t exactly try to get rid of me. C’mon admit it, deep down you liked me.”

Aizawa shakes his head at his husband. He put Eri adjacent to Lizelle’s left before walking to kiss Hizashi.

“Zashi, the pancakes.”

Hizashi looked over to see the pancakes starting to look a little too brown. He quickly moved the finished pancake to a plate. Lizelle smiled at the cute scene before turning her head to the tired girl rubbing her eyes.

She gave a quick tickle to the little girl’s sides: “Morning Eri-berry.”

Eri gave a small shriek of laughter. Lizelle giggled.

“Morning Uncle Shou.”

“Morning Lizzy,” he sits down adjacent to Lizelle’s right.

Hizashi places the food down and greets his daughter with a kiss to her head.

“So what is your plan for today?” Aizawa asks Lizelle as they start to eat.

Lizelle shrugs: “Explore the town, look at living places, look for a job, maybe even visit Shinso on his break.”

“Y’know, if you can’t find anything, you are more than welcome to come help me or Shouta at our jobs.”

“Thanks Uncle Zashi but I don’t see how much help I’ll be at the Sheriff or Radio station. Thanks for the offer; I’ll definitely keep it as a back up.”

“Daddy, Papa, can I show Lizzy around town?” Eri asks with her mouth full pancakes.

“Eri, swallow before you talk,” Aizawa gently said while Hizashi jokingly presses her chin up, “I don’t know.”

“Oh come one Dadzawa,” Lizelle grinned, “Eri knows the town better than me and I can keep her safe.”

Aizawa sighed but looked doubtful.

“Babe this whole town knows Eri is the sheriff’s daughter and not to mess with her. Eri will actually keep Lizelle safe, especially if the League decide to be annoying today. They know not to mess with your family,” Hizashi reasons, “Besides Lizelle is right. Eri knows the town better and this way Lizelle won’t get lost.”

Aizawa sighs again, knowing Hizashi is right and that he is fighting a losing battle.

“Fine, you can show Lizzy around.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep each other safe,” Lizelle gave the little girl a side squeeze.

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

Eri kisses and hugs her dads goodbye.

“See you two later.” Hizashi waves.

“Be safe,” Aizawa calls after them.

“We will,” Eri giggles.

“Bye Dadzawa. Bye Papa Mic.”

“Bye girls.”

The two girls set off down the street to the right in the direction of what looked like a school. Currently mostly empty since it was Saturday. Maybe some overtime teachers or sport teams, other than that a ghost place.

“That’s my school!” Eri excitedly points.

“Oh really? Remind me what grade are you in?”

“Grade 2. Mr. Togata is my teacher.”

“Wow you’re getting big,” Lizelle squeezes Eri’s left hand.

As they turn the corner, Eri spots something that makes her squeal. Lizelle tightens her grips when she feels the little girl wants to run. Standing outside the gates are two men who turn in their direction upon hearing Eri. Seeing Eri, the two men wave. Lizelle makes sure they get safely across the street. Only then does she let the little girl run to them.

“Hi Eri!”

The tall blond picks up the girl as she happily squeals.

“Hi Mr. Togata! Hi Mr. Deku!”

The green haired man next to them gently pats Eri on the head: “Hi Eri.”

The man Eri calls Deku turns to Lizelle. He greets her with small nervous smile.

“Hi I’m Izuku Midoriya, understudy to Mayor All Might.”

Lizelle shakes his hand.

“So Deku?” She asks curiously.

He shrugged: “A mean nickname I was given when I was younger. I’m trying to put a more positive spin on it.”

Lizelle nodded in understanding: “I get that.”

The taller blond shook her hand: “Hi My name is Mirio Togata. I’m Eri’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lizelle. I’m a family friend of Hizashi Yamada. I just moved to town and I’m staying with them till I find a job and my own place. Eri is busy showing me around town.”

“Well welcome to Yuuie,” Mirio says with smile.

“And if you’re looking for a job just to keep busy, there is always the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar and B&B and the library are always looking for volunteers,” Izuku suggest, “If it’s more a specific profession, Yuuie has a lot of businesses. Sure you’ll find something.”

Lizelle nods gratefully: “Thank you. I shall look into those places,” she looks to Eri, “C’mon sweetie we still got a lot to see. Maybe we can even go visit your brother if we are there on his break.”

“Yay!” Mirio gently puts her down.

She grabs Lizelle’s hand again and they continue walking down the street waving goodbye to Mirio and Izuku.

Walking across the street they pass a park and start passing some houses. About halfway Eri points out the Mayor’s House with trees surrounding it. They cross the street and tree line into the second main street where by the looks of it, is the most action. People walk up and down, doorbells constantly clinging as people enter and leave.

Eri quickly tugs Lizelle to cross to the right of the street while throwing slightly nervous looks to the biggest building on the corner of the left block.

��Everything okay Eri-berry?”

“Daddy always says to avoid that place and be careful here.”

Lizelle looks at the building. Two shops occupy it; Shigaraki’s bar and Dabi’s tattoo parlour. It’s a little rundown but otherwise okay. Lizelle can’t help the negative feeling that reaches her, making her feel on edge. The place definitely looks like trouble. Or at least definitely not the place for a little girl to be.

A man walks out of the parlour. He leans against the outside wall and lights a cigarette. She can only see the tattoos under his eyes, jaw, neck and wrists but Lizelle is positive he is probably covered in them as well as multiple piercings.

Was the flame from his lighter blue?

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and releases a puff of smoke. Through the smoke he catches Lizelle’s eye. He looks her up and down with his piercing blue eyes before giving a nod. Lizelle gives friendly smile in return and then focuses back on helping Eri across the street.

“New plaything?” a female voice asks from the door.

Dabi turns his head to the blond girl: “Nah that Aizawa brat was with her. Unless we want the Sheriff to strangle us we better not mess with what’s his.”

“Aw, not fair,” Toga complains. Dabi simply shakes his head.

At the corner Eri points to a building on the left block behind the building on the street.

“There’s Dadzawa’s work…”

Then she points to the slightly L-shaped building diagonally in front of the Sheriff’s Station.

“… and there’s Papa Mic’s.”

Lizelle nods.

They past the Post Office, an apartment building behind a small park and past another building they reach the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar.

“Wanna a milkshake, Eri-berry?”

Eri’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at her: “Can we?”

“Sure. C’mon let’s go in.”

The bell rings as the two enter. They walk up to the counter and Lizelle helps Eri up. A beautiful girl with long blue hair comes walking out from behind.

“Nejire!”

“There’s my little berry. Your daddy called and said I’m off babysitting duty today,” the girl turned to Lizelle, “Hi, I’m Neijre Hado, waitress and the occasional babysitter for this little angel.”

“She is also the town’s resident beauty queen,” a large man comes walking out from the kitchen, almost squatting to get through the doorways.

“And this is Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as Fatgum, best cook in Yuuie,” Nejire giggled, tapping the man’s belly, “And he knows it.”

The man gives a jolly laugh.

Lizelle smiled, enjoying the wholesome energy in this place.

“I’m Lizelle, I’m new and a family friend of this little one’s family.”

“Welcome to Yuuie Miss. We hope you enjoy your stay here,” Fatgum smiles warmly.

“Thank you,” she smiles back. He feels like an uncle.

“So what can we get for you?”

“I’d like a chocolate milkshake and some fries. You Eri?”

“An apple pie and strawberry milkshake please.”

Nejire winked at the two: “You got it.”

Fatgum moves back into kitchen and Nejire cuts out a slice of apple pie for Eri. She then hands a small A6 card to Lizelle, full of numbers.

Upon Lizelle’s confused look, Nejire explains: “Numbers of the business around here. If you are ever in need of a handyman the mechanics shop is the place to call and ask for Eijiro Kirishima. That mountain of man can fix anything.”

Lizelle smirked: “Mountain, huh?”

“Well he is Fatgum’s nephew.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Nejire giggled: “He works at the shop with his cousin Tetsutetsu and it is owned by Mei Hatsume. That girl is genius with machines and Tetsu seems like he bend steel, almost has if…”

“He is steel himself,” Lizelle gets a weird look on her face before shaking her head. She lifts the page, “The others?”

“Right. The mechanics is behind the sheriff station by the way. Right next to us is the vet/pet shelter run by Tsuyu Asui and Koji Koda. Then across from us is Ojiro’s dojo and next to that we have our Electrician Denki Kaminari. He’s good but don’t worry if he shocks himself. It happens from time to time.”

At Lizelle concerned look Nejire quickly adds: “He’s fine. He is practically Pikachu by now.”

“As long as he is not Pichu,” Lizelle shakes her head.

Nejire laughs, tipping her head: “Well…”

Shaking her head, she continues: “I’m assuming you walked past the school? And of course where the sheriff and radio station is?”

Lizelle nods: “Eri also pointed out the Mayor’s house to me. And the bar and tattoo parlour I was warned from.”

Lizelle gently pats Eri on the head.

Nejire nodded with a tight mouth: “Yeah the league… aren’t bad but they are trouble. So best to try stay away as much as you can.”

Lizelle raises and eyebrow: “The League?”

“The League of Delinquents.”

“I saw a man with tattoos and piercings smoking outside the tattoo place.”

“That’s Dabi. He seems chill, but you don’t want to piss him off. He has an affinity for arson. The one you really have to careful around is Shigaraki. He runs that place and the league. Also Toga; she’s a blonde girl with sharp teeth. She has a weird fascination for blood and sometimes gets a little stab happy. So just be careful.”

“And Shigaraki?”

Nejire shudders a little: “Trust me you’ll know. He just seems dangerous.”

Lizelle nods. Geez you guys go on about these guys like their villains.

Nejire puts back on her smile: “Anyways, we also have Rikido Sato’s bakery, Hanta Sero’s restaurant, Tamaki Amajiki’s flower shop; that’s Fatgum’s adopted son and Mirio’s Boyfriend.”

Lizelle raises her eyebrow with a smile: “Ok cute.”

Nejire giggled: “And both are my boyfriends.”

Lizelle gasped: “Lucky you! Kinda jealous. Of you and them.”

They both laugh.

“You?” Nejire bends her hand at the wrist in a silent question.

“I’m…” Lizelle snaps her fingers into a finger gun/thumbs up and peace signs.

“Ah,” Nejire nods in understanding, “Ok then there are the builders (that are behind Denki and Ojiro’s places), the library’s number, if you want to shop wood personally the lumberjack office; ask for Rumi. She is the boss and she is one the people who knows the woods the best. Mina Ashido’s hair salon, Yuga Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace; it’s mostly a clothing shop but Mina, Toru Hagukure and Aoyama together are a styling dream team. They helped me with the beauty pageants. We also have the Yaoyorozu’s Properties, the gym, the Bank of Iida, the Todoroki Supermarket, and Yuuie Hospital and of course the town hall.”

Nejire juts her thumb to Eri: “Your little tour guide here knows where everything is.”

Lizelle smirks at Eri: “And why do you know everything?”

Eri giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

Nejire smiled: “Sheriff Aizawa wanted to make sure if anything happened, Eri knows all the safe places to go to.”

Lizelle nods with a small smile: “That sounds like Dadzawa.”

As the two finishes up, Lizelle pulls out her wallet. Fatgum quickly pops through the window.

“Uh uh, It’s on the house.”

“You sure?”

“Of course, especially for my favourite customer,” He winks at Eri with broad grin.

Lizelle grins: “Thanks for everything. The food was delicious. And thanks for all the info Nejire.”

The blue haired waitress waves at her as they exit.

Eri points out Ojiro’s dojo and Denki’s Electrics across the street and the vet next door to the diner. They cross the town square over to the library with a clock tower on top of the corner of the building. Across the street at the corner was Sato’s Bakery and next to it Sero’s Restaurant. Next to them was Mina’s hair salon and connected to it Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace.

Lizelle giggled at the name.

Next to the library was Yaoyorozu’s Properties and on the corner Amajiki’s Flower shop.

“Wanna stop by the library real quick? I want to ask the librarian something.”

Eri nodded and the two headed in. Lizelle sighed in relief at coolness compared to beating sun outside. There was a little dark haired girl with purple eyes a few years older than Eri sitting in a dark corner reading by a low light. A dark haired man with Goth makeup came from the office behind the desk. Eri waved to him.

She gave a whispered greeting: “Hi Tokoyami.”

“Hi Eri,” He whispered back in a pretty deep voice.

Huh this man’s makeup makes him look like crow or raven. Cool.

“Hi, I’m Fumikage Tokoyami, how can I help?”

“Oh hi! I’m Lizelle, I’m new to town. I was wondering with there are any positions open here.”

Tokoyami shook his head: “Not at the moment, but if you don’t mind working part time, we always accept volunteers. On certain days we are busier, especially when exam season comes.”

Lizelle nods with a smile: “Yeah I don’t mind.”

Lizelle gives Tokoyami her contact information. Lizelle waves Eri over for them to leave. Lunch is soon if they want to make it on time for Shinso’s break. Tokoyami hands Eri an apple with small smile. The two wave goodbye. As they leave they hear Tokoyami talk to the other girl:

“Shadow, do not read by such a low light. It is not good for your eyes.”

“But I don’t like the bright light!”

Lizelle smiled as the door closes. Must be brother and sister.

Lizelle and Eri continue down the street. They stop outside Tamaki’s flower shop to smell some of the flowers outside. Lizelle looked at bouquet of white and red roses with a smile on her face. She always liked the beauty more than the smell. Mostly flowers smell like plants to her. There are very few flowers’ smells she actually likes.

Lizelle looks from smiling at Eri to through the window when she spots movement from her peripheral vision. Just in time to see an indigo haired man duck out of sight. Lizelle tilts her head to side. He peaks around but ducks back upon noticing she is still looking. Lizelle gives a small smile at the man’s shyness. She offers him small wave before ushering Eri along.

They turn right to the main street. Then a turn left to walk to the hospital. Walking in, up to the front desk, Lizelle asks if Dr. Hitoshi Shinso is on his break. The woman about to ask the reason why she wants to see him, spots Eri. She smiles and waves the two on ahead while giving directions to his office. Eri leads the way.

Knocking on the door, Lizelle hears Shinso’s tired: “Come in.”

“Hey doc, got time for lunch?”

Shinso looks up and smirks: “Hey Lizzy. Hey Eri!”

Eri runs up to him and he easily picks her.

“Yeah sure lunch. We can do that.”

The three sit down in the cafeteria.

“So you enjoying your time here so far?” Shinso asks around the bad cup of coffee.

“Oh yeah this place is great. Everyone is so friendly. Well mostly everybody.”

Shinso frowns, confused before he asks concerned: “You didn’t run in to the league did you? Dadzawa would have their heads.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Not really. Just saw one of the members. Nothing happened.”

“Ok good. How’s the living situation?”

“Pretty good. Thanks for okaying the use of your room.”

“Sure.”

“Other than that, it is nice. But I would like my own place.”

Shinso gets a thoughtful look: “And a roommate?”

“I wouldn’t mind a roommate. Helps with rent and stuff.”

“How about...” Shinso puts down his cup, “You move in with me?”

“At your apartment?”

“Yeah the apartment building next to the Post office. I have a spare room/ loft. Also I’m barely home because of the hours at the hospital. It will be more like your apartment and I crash there.”

Lizelle giggles: “I know you can’t help it but you should stop overworking yourself.”

He shrugs: “So what do you say? Once you get a job you can start helping with rent if you want to, but you don’t need to. I make more than enough with a doctor salary. Besides I can’t help much cleaning wise and stuff, so the least I can do is pay the rent.”

Lizelle sighs: “Hitoshi I can’t expect you...”

Shinso holds up his hand: “I want to. I have no problem paying the rent but it’s going to waste because I’m barely there. So whaddya say?”

Lizelle thinks about: “I mean free place, not too far from Eri-them, nearby possible work place...”

Shinso smiled and sat up to reach into his pocket.

Lizelle looks up as she makes her decision: “Ok sure I would love to. Oh!”

She backs a little when she found keys in front of her face.

“Here are the keys to the apartment building and my flat. Go take a look at it. If your decision is completely final we can go make you a copy.”

Lizelle takes the keys and smiles gratefully at Shinso: “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Shinso just smirks: “It’s not a problem. You’re family. If we switched places you would have done the same.”

Lizelle nods: “True.”

When his break was over, Lizelle and Eri say goodbye and head back. They stop by the park for a bit while Eri plays with some of her friends.

Lizelle stands at the edge to watch Eri when a siren rings through the air. Lizelle jumps and looks behind her to see Aizawa climb out of the sheriff car.

“What’s with the siren?”

“Easy way to get your attention.”

Lizelle smirks: “Well you got it. Here to arrest me officer?”

Aizawa chuckles: “So how is everything?”

“Great. Eri showed me around, I have places for possible jobs and I have a place to live.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow.

“Shinso offered me his flat because he is barely there because of his hours and the rent is technically going to waste.”

Aizawa sighs and shakes his head: “That boy works hard. Too hard sometimes. I told him he is more than welcome to stay at home. He didn’t listen.”

“Sometimes people gotta learn by bumping their own heads even when you wanna protect them.”

“Unfortunately. So his apartment?”

“Mhm. He gave me the keys to go check it out. Then we will make my own copy.”

Aizawa nods: “Alright. I can take Eri off your hands if you want.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Nah that’s okay. I’m good with taking care of Eri for the rest of day.”

“You sure?”

Lizelle nods.

“Ok. Well I got to get back to work. Eri!”

Eri runs over with excitement. The two hug.

“I’ll see you two later tonight.”

“Bye Daddy!” “Bye Dadzawa!”

Lizelle let’s Eri play for a little while longer before they head for the apartment.

Outside parked on the street was a gold motorcycle with red wings and the words ‘Fierce Wings’ on the side. Lizelle nodded impressed before opening up the front door and letting Eri through.

At the mailboxes in the wall stand a man a couple inches taller than Lizelle with feathery blond hair. He wore a tan jacket with two red wings printed on the back, continuing onto the sleeves. Considering he was putting packages and letters into the mailboxes with a big bag slung across his body, Lizelle assumed he is the mailman and that the bike outside is his.

Lizelle started up the stairs.

“Hi Mr. Hawks,” Eri greets the man.

He turns slightly to greet her, only slightly seeing Lizelle before she disappears up the stairs.

Hawks blinks slightly before shrugging.

Eri joins Lizelle as they go to the third floor. 3A, here it is.

She unlocks the door and lets Eri in first. It was small but decently sized with a lot of woodwork. Lizelle snorted. This is very cottage-core. Too much for you, Shinso. But the rest of the apartment was more Shinso. Minimally decorated with just the basic essentials aka – does anybody even actually live here? Oh and coffee.

The place was in good condition from just a brief look, just a bit dusty and dirty, Lizelle noted. Eri showed her around while Lizelle smiled at how cute Eri was. Up the stairs were the loft and the other bedroom. Once again minimally decorated and mostly empty.

“Are you gonna stay with Toshi from now on?”

“Uh yeah, I think I am,” Lizelle sits next to her on the bed, noticing a slight twinge of sadness from Eri even though her face doesn’t say anything.

Lizelle slightly bumps shoulders: “Don’t worry; I’m still going to see you all the time. Who do you think is gonna babysit you?”

She nuzzles her nose against Eri’s playfully, grinning at Eri’s giggle, sadness gone.

The two lock up and leave, bring Shinso’s keys back for him and head home.

Seeing nobody else home yet she decides to get head start on dinner. She hears Eri watching TV and by the sound of it, it was some superhero anime. Lizelle smiles as Eri cheers for the heroes. Considering the back story of Eri, it’s no wonder she has a great love for heroes. Lizelle growled slightly, thinking of Eri’s past. If I ever get my hands on that abusive foster father of hers... Thank goodness Mirio had noticed the signs of something wrong at her house; first the wounds on her arms, explained away by saying she’s reckless and clumsy even though Eri was the gentlest and most careful of all the kids in his class; and second Eri’s hesitancy to go home. Mirio got Izuku involved and using his high position in town along with some others’ help including the Deputy Mayor Mirai Sasaki, they were able to save Eri.

Lizelle had heard the story from Shinso and Mic. She was happy to meet two of Eri’s saviours today, but didn’t want to say anything in front of Eri in case of trauma triggers. Lizelle quickly focuses back on the food to avoid burning it. She giggles as she is reminded of this morning with Mic and the pancakes. No wonder people who don’t know us think we are related.

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

After dinner and telling Mic and Aizawa about their day, Lizelle helps Mic wash up as Aizawa takes Eri upstairs to get her ready for bed.

“So which job do you think of going after?” Mic asks as he dries the plates.

“Well Tokoyami from the library has my contact details if he ever needs my help, but I am thinking of maybe doing some part-time at the diner and maybe somewhere else as well. At least like secretary or cashier considering I don’t have the skills to help at the other aspects of the businesses here.”

Mic nods: “Well, that sounds good. After all you won’t have to worry too much about money with the rent being Shinso’s responsibility and you do need the time to work on your real career. But hey...”

Mic puts a gentle hand on Lizelle’s shoulder so she focuses on him.

“... Don’t go throwing yourself out there and stressing yourself out too much. I know you and I know that’s what you’ll do. You are away from your family. You have no one to prove yourself to here and us to support you. And don’t listen to those negative little voices inside your head because you know those are your family’s words and thoughts, not your own.”

Lizelle smiles and gives Mic a hug: “Thanks Papa Mic.”

The two finish up and retire for the night. Everything here is perfect...

A little too perfect.

[jmoriarty-221b]

So I saw somewhere a post that talked about how some fictional characters just have a divorce vibe going on, like, at no point in time were they ever married but they just give off that feeling that they got divorced

And now I can only think of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor having that vibe

And I spent close to an hour talking about this to my sibling and how it would be a good idea for a new DC show like, you can make so much money off of just the main Batfam alone and there are literally so many people in there that it’s just an amazing idea to have them all in a show together but kind of like a Good Luck Charlie kinda thing because there’s more than enough angst in the world

But in the case of not having enough of a budget for so many characters in one show I turned to the Superfam (Batfam is Huge like, I don’t even know half of the extended family version and that’s like at least ten characters so I could see why it wouldn’t be entirely feasible to have a show that included everyone while still being good with nice character development without having a billion dollars for the budget)

The Superfam, in my personal experience, is composed of Ma & Pa Kent (farm vibes plus I refuse to have either of them die in my AU), Clark Kent (main Superman), Lois Lane (Lana? was Smallville Lois i guess??? But idk enough about her so she’s not here), Jon Kent (Superboi II), Kara Danvers (Supergirl) & Conner Kent (Superboi I)

Now I’ve stopped watching CW shows like, forever ago??? But my brother kinda keeps up with them and basically the gist is that the ratings of every other show suck Except for the Superman & Lois show (because it’s 💫new💫) and I saw the cover of the poster like “Ah, the werewolf dude. . . mmmhhmmm that’s Lois yes, yes that’s Johnny boi, and um is that???? Nooooo, they wouldn’t do that to Conner right???? Please tell me they didn’t make Conner blonde” and I was informed that the blonde teen is Chris???? Like

Whoms’t do ye speak of

I’m not even joking but the only way I even know of Chris is from a random fanfic I read where Dick Grayson gets his own super from an alternate reality named Chris, that’s my only point of reference for this character

But let’s talk about how Conner Kent (OG Superboi) was excluded

Now I haven’t seen any episodes of this and I probably never will (no hate I’m just really unmotivated to start new shows at all) so idk if they might mention Conner or even allude to him in one scene or something

But this was my main motivator as to my new Superfam TV Show Idea

Have Lex Luthor not be a Superman villain, he’s mainly a successful businessman, a little shady but who isn’t, and he doesn’t want to Kill Superman, he just wants to be able to have some sort of viable protection against a Kryptonian in case of an invasion (see Man of Steel + CW’s Supergirl) or suddenly having a mind controlled Superman on their hands (see Justice League series or just look up what Red Krytonite does) so he makes it like his side thing to figure out ways to neutralize or hold back a Kryptonian, Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with finding a way to kill Superman because they had a bad end to their friendship in high school so he’s always suspicious of Lex, Lex hasn’t really ever tried to kill him though because 1. It’s not that deep Clark ok? And 2. He’s a busy busy man with a very important job position and a company to run so does he look like he has time to harbor an obsession over someone who rejected him back in high school??? You’re more of a constant side quest Clark, so stop trying to put him on the JL watchlist ( btw ik about Lena Luthor, haven’t forgotten her but she doesn’t really play a part in this AU so let’s just have her and Kara off to the side doing their own thing ok? Ok)

Lex, Bruce & Oliver all knew each other when they were kids and went to the same school, this is just an extra detail I wanted to happen because Lex and Ollie definitely know Bruce is Batman and absolutely HATE having to deal with Brucie Wayne because “I know you’re just doing this to irritate me Bruce, you just want to see if you can make a vein throb in my forehead but I will valiantly ignore your dumbassery because I know you hate being Brucie just as much as we hate having to put up with Brucie so suck on that you petty bitch” because they bonded in ye olden days, childhood friends so to speak

Anyway so Cadmus tries to get Lex to make an investment in their company, seeing as Cadmus is shadier than Gotham when it rains Lex is basically like ‘no ❤️’ and doesn’t make a deal with them, Cadmus gets mad at not having Lexcorp financially backing them so Lex has an ‘accident’ and they steal his DNA, then they steal Superman’s DNA somehow and *boom* a Superboi is formed

Because I don’t know much about how the Core Four became friends in the first place (Robin Tim Drake, Impulse Bart Allen, Wonder Girl Cassie Sandsmark & Superboy Conner Kent) I’m just gonna go with what happens in the show Young Justice except it’s the Core Four becoming the Core Four when they liberated Conner (who at this point believes himself to be a clone of Superman and has only been given Superboy as a name) from Cadmus, same shit goes down meaning that Clark is just straight up NOT vibing with Conner, Conner just wants a mentor please, and the Bats kinda give Clark a passive aggressive treatment for not taking Superboy under his wing or at least agreeing to teach him how to control his powers, especially Tim because that’s his Bestie so yes

Anyway, YJ saves ppl and is on the news or whatever and Lex finds out about Superboy’s existence that way, so he researches this new super on his free time, finds out that he came from Cadmus and claims to be a clone of Superman, yet doesn’t have the whole power set Superman has??? Wait, didn’t Lex reject Cadmus’ proposal and the got into a mysterious accident??? Long story short Lex goes connecting the dots, hacks into Cadmus’ files, finds out he technically has a son with Superman and decides to take Superboy under his wing (I’ll go more in depth as to why Lex would want to do this in this AU later but the abridged version would be that he wants a kid but doesn’t have the time nor interest in finding a wife??? Also the radiation that made him bald as a kid also affected his reproductive system so while it’s not impossible for him to conceive kids he would have a very hard time actually getting to father a kid)

Him and Conner, who still goes by Superboy at this point in time, meet up and Conner finds out that here is a parent figure that is both available and actively wants to be a part of his life, so he agrees to get to know Lex and the series would focus on them becoming a family, with a special episode when Conner asks Lex for help in choosing a name for himself and it ends up with him agreeing to become Conner Luthor, it would be heartwarming and Mercy would make sure it happens within a day (Mercy is Lex’s bodyguard/PA but they’re also besties and she becomes the Responsible yet Chaotic Aunt as Lex and Conner’s father-son relationship progresses)

Obviously Clark becomes super suspicious of Lex getting close to his ‘clone’ and when Conner decides to go public as Lex’s son he’s like *GASP* and calls up Bruce because we need to get on this Bruce, Lex is a villain and blah blah blah but Bruce would be over Clark’s shit and hit him with that “actually, Lex was also an unwilling genetic donor to Superboy, who actually is not your clone either, and has agreed to take him in, I’ve been on this shit since they first met and the kid is doing just fine so if you keep poking your nose in their business then that’s your problem but you better be ready to pay child support bitch . . . have a good day ❤️”

The series would just focus on Conner getting to have a good parent figure in Lex and go more into their civilian lives rather than focusing on the superhero thing, Conner, Bart, Tim & Cassie have a sleepover at Lex’s house at one point, Lex totally Knows what’s up but it’s all good because these are his baby’s friends and they’re good people who are more than willing to prank Superman for rejecting his kid and giving his baby self worth issues (Mercy supports them)

Anyway, that’s basically the idea for a new Superhero Show

[charmedseoull]

Interview with sugamins about her work House of Cards (Ao3′s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work)

Before You Read the Interview

Archive of Our Own Transcript

Reddit Transcript Part 1 / Part 2

House of Cards is documented within the Top 50 Most Hit BTS Works on Archive of Our Own Project, otherwise known as T50BTS, by Charmedseoul. It is the second most hit English work on the Archive of Our Own platform, most hit BTS work, and 16th most hit work overall. It centers around the internationally popular K-Pop idol group BTS (Bangtan Sonyeondan) with the main characters being Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook. This work is being documented for historical purposes for the Fanlore website with its own page. Charmedseoul is a BTS-focused anonymous historian who plans to eventually document each of the top 50 most hit BTS work on Ao3 as in depth as this one. If you are in contact with any of the authors of these works, please contact her on Twitter @charmedseoul or on Tumblr @charmedseoull.

Parts of this interview have been edited with links to Fanlore and Wikipedia pages for understanding. Any information in [brackets] serves for further clarity for readers and elaboration of information.

Disclaimers: This interview contains spoilers for the BTS Archive of Our Own work House of Cards. The story’s Archive of Our Own tags contain violence and gangster activity, along with discussion of prostitution and drug use. The full tag list is:

Alternate Universe - Gangsters

Gang Violence

Violence

Drugs

Drug Use

Explicit Sexual Content

Explicit Language

Blood and Gore

Blood and Torture

Gambling

Gunplay

Undercover

Disturbing Themes

Homophobic Language

Attempted Rape/Non-Con

Xenophobia

Dom/sub

Threesome - M/M/M

Drug Addiction

Dubious Consent

This interview discusses an 18+ mature work and Not Safe for Work topics. Please read this interview at your own discretion. You are responsible for the content you consume.

House of Cards by sugamins is a multi-chapter Archive of Our Own fanfiction that follows police officer Kim Taehyung’s undercover operation into the gangster world of Haedogje Pa. Jeon Jungkook, shrouded in an air of mystery and dubbed “The Boy,” is the heir to this crime empire. Park Jimin lives with him, acting as a lover of sorts in a high, pristine penthouse apartment. The story follows the three and their complicated relationship where sex, violence, and drugs surround them. Kim Taehyung tries to take down the empire as his moral lines of black and white begin blurring into gray. In this crime-ridden alternate reality to Seoul, everything from the structure of the gangster world to the trust between three lovers is as fragile as a house of cards.

Now presenting the interview with sugamins, author of Archive of Our Own’s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work, House of Cards:

How did you start writing?

How did you get into fanfiction?

How much writing experience did you have prior to House of Cards?

Do you have any literary or artistic inspirations? Any other authors or works that have inspired you to create anytime before or after House of Cards?

How did you become an ARMY [ARMY stands for Adorable Representative MC for the Youth. It is the fandom name for fans of BTS, otherwise known as Bangtan Sonyeondan]?

I started writing fanfiction in 2012. But before then, I used to enjoy writing stories as a child and young teenager. I used to write and illustrate my own stories. I even had a sketchbook filled with my own comic book, which was terrible! But I've always been creative. It started with art and then I moved onto writing when I discovered I was able to be much more creative with my words rather than my pencil.

I first got into fanfiction through my years spent on Tumblr. I had always known that it had existed, but I had never really gone looking for it because I hadn't belonged to a fandom at that point in my life. It was back in 2012 when I stumbled upon an EXO fanfic that a lot of people were talking about (Arbitrage, you can find it on Livejournal.) I read it and then thought...wow, so this is fanfiction! From that point, I started reading more and more, mostly Infinite fanfiction. And then I decided to start writing with the encouragement of an old online friend, and here I am!

In terms of writing experience, I have never formally received education. I stopped studying English Language and Literature when I was 16, instead focusing on Art, History, and Religious Education (purely because I wanted to learn about philosophy and quantum mechanics) for my final two years at high-school. The only experience I have is through writing fanfiction. I started back in 2012, and I've developed a lot since then. I started off small, writing horror short stories and little collections. Brotherhood was the first 'long fic' I created. I was shocked that it managed to get so big because I had never created a story of that size before. Writing helped me gain experience and figure out what worked and what didn't work, what I was good at writing, and where I was lacking and needed to learn. I don't think you can really experience an art form until you start doing it. You can learn all about the techniques and the conventions, but until you pick up a pen and start writing or drawing, you won't ever know what it means to create.

My literary inspiration has always been Stephen King. Which is funny, as he has described himself as 'having diarrhea of the typewriter.' I think that applies to me sometimes. I am a bit of a wordy writer, though I've started honing it down for certain stories. Sometimes, a story needs to be floral and descriptive, sometimes, it needs to be punchy and direct. So, King was my major inspiration, especially with horror. I also enjoy the works of Poe and Lovecraft (I acknowledge the problematic themes in the work of Lovercraft and seek not to praise him as a person. He was a terrible person for sure, but sadly, he had a way with cosmic horror that is hard to find.) I also enjoy Chuck Palahniuk and the dark, seedy and overall zany stories that he has created. I like his style a lot!

In terms of inspirations for House of Cards, I was obviously inspired by the films Infernal Affairs/The Departed. American Gangster and Training Day were also major inspirations (and also because I love Denzel Washington's performances in both films. I mean, who doesn't love him?) But I also drew inspiration from other sources that were less focused on gangs, more focused on the dark, nihilistic state of the world around us. I couldn't recommend the TV series True Detective hard enough. It is one of the best series I have ever watched. It handles dark and disturbing content so well, and its fractured, unreliable story-telling and philosophical musing is some of the best I've ever seen on screen. I highly recommend checking it out, but be sure to check the content warning and triggers because it certainly isn't suitable for younger audiences and those with triggers. In terms of real-life content, I think Ross Kemps' docu-series are very good. Particularly Extreme World and On Gangs. His docu-series show the dark and disturbing side of criminal activity, the drug trade and more. 

I became a fan of BTS [Bangtan Sonyeondan] back in 2013. I had already been a fan of K-Pop for some time by then, as I had started listening to various K-Pop and K-Rock artists back in 2009. I knew of their debut, but I had seen hundreds of new acts debut by the time that they broke into the scene, and so I didn't pay much heed. Someone I followed on Tumblr at the time kept posting about how much she loved them, especially Taehyung [BTS V/Kim Taehyung]. One day, I stumbled upon a gifset of Yoongi [BTS Suga/Min Yoongi] being sarcastic in one of their first interviews. I thought he was funny, so I decided to check them out. At the time, they had recently released We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2 [BTS’s second music video release with their debut album 2 Kool 4 Skool]. I followed them from that point, and their first comeback [A “comeback” refers to when a K-Pop idol group releases new music, usually done twice a year.] was also my first comeback. I liked their music [BTS released Boy In Luv and Just One Day in 2014, both music videos of songs from their Skool Luv Affair EP.], but I liked them even more as individuals. I loved watching their shows [Here is a link to BTS’s schedule during 2014 when they had their first comeback. You can find the shows and interviews they were on there.], even though they are incredibly embarrassing to look back on now. They just had so much energy and looked to be having so much fun that I was having fun just watching them. I was a fan, I liked a lot of their songs and followed their activities. But it wasn't until they released HYYH Part One [Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa Part 1 (Korean) = The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1 (This is the title in English), released with the I Need U and Dope music videos.] that I really became a fan of their music. I had already created a couple of small horror stories for the fandom at that point. HYYH Part One [The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1] inspired me so much that I created Brotherhood, my first 'long fic.' I joined AO3 [Archive of Our Own] and started posting there. I received so much support from fellow fans that I carried on writing, and the rest is history!

How has your experience being an ARMY [Adorable Representative MCs of the Youth, BTS’s global fan base name.] been? Did you ever leave the fandom then come back? How did you interact with others when you first got into the fandom and as you grew up?

How have you been since you wrote House of Cards? What have you been working on? 

Are you okay with talking about how old you are now and how old you were when you wrote House of Cards?

Before you even wrote House of Cards, what inspired it? Any TV shows? Music? Movies? Books? Ideas? It could be anything.

How did you start writing House of Cards? Did you finish the entire story then publish it or did you write it as you went? What was the writing process like?

Did you have any beta readers or editors? If you did, are you still in contact with them now? How did they feel about your work?

My experience being a fan has mostly been positive over the years. In the earlier days, back around when I first started writing for the fandom, it was certainly much more positive. I've received so much support over the years, not only in my writing but in my personal life from readers and fellow fans that being a fan of the boys [The members of BTS] really has changed my life. That's not an exaggeration. I doubt I would even be here now without those years having such a positive effect on my mental health. I've never really been the kind to interact with others and form cliques within the fandom, I just like being in my own space and interacting with everyone that comes my way, I guess?

These days, I'm not as active as a writer or in fandom spaces however. I feel like my time in the fandom has started to come up and I don't know how I feel about it just yet. I feel nostalgic for the time when I was first starting out in the fandom and I didn't really know much, but everything was fun. It doesn't feel so fun now, but I mostly contribute that to the effect that Twitter has had on shaping the fandom's growth. Twitter has never been a good place for creatives within fandoms because of issues with algorithms and such. Tumblr was always the better website for hosting artistic content for a variety of reasons. So, I think the fact that everything is on Twitter now has been partly responsible for my decline in engagement and overall enjoyment. I'm currently taking a break from Twitter. The next couple of months will be what makes me either stay or leave the fandom.

Since writing House of Cards, I've been an active writer in the fandom. Over the years, I've added quite a lot of stories to my AO3 accounts and various pseuds. My largest ongoing story is another gang story, set in the 1980s, called Valentino Summers. I actually started writing and publishing it on Ao3 just four or so months after I finished House of Cards—which is wild to think about. Finally finishing House of Cards seems like such a long time ago in my mind, and yet I'm still working on a story I created that same year! I like contributing horror stories to the fandom, especially in the Halloween period. I like publishing series in the month/upcoming weeks before Halloween—though I won't be doing so this year [2020].

When I started writing House of Cards, I would have just turned 22. It was inspired by the song 'Wires' by The Neighbourhood. I might be mistaken, but I believe that Jungkook [BTS Jungkook/Jeon Jungkook] posted a tweet with the song in it. [Jungkook did tweet about this song. Here is the English translation.] I had never heard of the band before, but my partner was a fan of their music. She sent the song to me and I was very interested in the lyrics, so I started discussing them with her. One thing led to the next, and then we had basically come up with the entire plot of the story. We just needed to create the characters. We spent a little while doing so, and then I started doing some research and started writing the story. There really isn't a grand backstory to House of Cards, it just happened so fast. We often come up with story ideas like that, and my partner is responsible for a huge amount of my stories. She has the creative visions, which I then turn into words. We make quite the team, haha~ The inspirations, I mentioned those in my previous answer regarding films and TV shows.

I published the story as I went, though I staggered the updates because I didn't want to post too frequently. I had the entire story planned out from the start——I didn't change a single aspect of the story no matter what I received in terms of feedback. I think a lot of readers assume that writers might tweak things if they sense the audience wants something to happen in terms of plot or relationships. Personally, I don't like doing that. I like sticking to my plans even if I know my vision might not be what the readers want. I think it's important for the story to be created the way I see it because my vision is what made me create it, if that makes sense.

The writing process was surprisingly smooth! You might not think it because the story is big and there are a lot of characters and plot threads to keep on top of, but it went smoothly for me. It flowed just as smoothly from start to finish as Brotherhood did. I never struggled once with writing the chapters, nor did I ever get stuck and wonder if I should change the content in order to make it easier to write. I'm surprised that I managed to complete it so easily because that's not the case with writing now! I tend to be a lot slower now, more deliberate and more open to changes in order to ease the process and the overall flow of the story. In a way, this change has been for the best. I do wonder what House of Cards would be like if I were to write it now, with my different approach to planning and writing. It would probably have a quicker flow, and the word count would either go down as a result of cuts, or go up because of additional scenes I would have likely included.

I didn't have any betas, which you can probably tell from the work. My stories are so big that I never wanted to put the burden of fixing them onto someone else. I know they are imperfect, oftentimes bloated things, but that's just what they are. I did try creating a story with another writer in the past, but it didn't go very well. She would often have conflicting opinions on things and would not have any leeway for anything I suggested, whereas I always had leeway to allow her to change things. Even to the point of completely changing the plot of the story that I had already started writing, and then allowing her to add graphic sexual content she didn't even want to be in the story. She actually stopped writing fanfiction randomly in the middle of us creating the story! She made a post about it being disgusting and nasty and then bowed out. I have no clue if she ever came back! So, my negative experience with attempting to work with someone else when creating a story kind of made me not want to have a beta. It's a wild story, I know!

House of Cards is praised for its realism and accuracy with weaponry, torture, sex, and violence. How did you research these things?

How did you come up with the gangster universe in House of Cards? How did you develop Haedogje Pa?

How did you name the original characters in House of Cards? Did any characters in particular take inspiration from existing characters in TV shows, anime, books, any type of media?

How did you decide on Vminkook as your main characters for the story? What do you see in their dynamic and them as characters?

Jimin is claimed to be one of the best written characters in the entire story. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Taehyung is an especially dynamic character whose morals get tested time and time again in House of Cards. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Jungkook is one of the characters that the readers spend the least amount of time getting a perspective from, but is incredibly well written in his character progression. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

When it came to various aspects in the story, I did do research. Most of it never really had an impact on the story itself. For example, I would be looking up gun models that are used by law enforcement agencies around the world and trying to find specs of them so I could learn how many bullets each gun held, or how much a magazine could hold. In action scenes, I didn't want my characters firing off 20+ bullets for a gun that—in reality—holds far less. That's a fact that doesn't really mean much to the average reader, but it meant something to me! I've always hated how many bullets fly through the air in action scenes in films and TV shows because I'm always wondering if it's possible with the firearms featured in the scene haha~ In terms of torture, I've come across the subject through various documentaries and TV shows about gangs, crime and serial killers. I didn't really do much additional research into the topic, beyond reading up on what I had come across to make sure it wasn't fictionalised for drama purposes. Obviously, there will be some lack of realism in my story because I couldn't possibly write a realistic portrayal of gang violence and torture when I have zero personal experience with it. My aim wasn't to give the story 'full' realism (I'll explain more about that in the next question) but to simply create a world that felt real, even if there were little aspects that had to be exaggerated for the sake of the story. Taehyung's behaviour when undercover certainly broke many procedures. The only thing working in his favour that allowed him to get away with it is that the crimes he committed couldn't be directly traced to him. But a real undercover agent would never do the things that he did on behalf of the gang. Basically, this means that the entire story is unrealistic! But of course, it wouldn't be very entertaining if Taehyung simply observed from the background and didn't dirty his hands. So, I had to bend and break the rules a little!

For the universe, I knew that I couldn't base it too much in reality. Because of basic Korean law, it would have been impossible for me to write the gang operating in the way they did in the story—especially with guns. Most Korean gangs tend to use other forms of violence and weapons in order to control their respective areas, rather than guns. My other story, Taste of Ink, has what I would consider a more realistic approach to gang activity—with the main weapons being knives, baseball bats, etc. and the main forms of violence being assault instead of flat-out murder. So, for the sake of allowing guns to appear in the story, I had to create a Neo-Seoul, so to speak. I took inspiration from Korean gangs, and mixed it with influences from other gang cultures in order to create 'Haedogje Pa.'

When it comes to naming original characters, I honestly don't put much thought into it. I like to use real names for inspiration. I often Google various Korean films I've watched and read the cast list in order to find interesting character and actor names. This is because I have a habit of reusing names sometimes. For example, readers of my stories might have come across a couple of Daesu and Goohee characters. Do you know where I got these names from? I picked Daesu from Oh Daesu - Choi Minsik's character in Oldboy. Goohee comes from the manhwa 'Let Dai' - he is the stubborn gang leader that actually has a good heart beneath his rough exterior. I ended up liking him the most by the end of the story, so his name is one that often comes to mind when I need to pick an original character name.

I never really consider real life dynamics when I'm writing because my stories are so detached from reality that it seems pointless including any inspiration from reality. I chose the three main characters simply because, at the time, they seemed to fit the character moulds the best. The other characters fit their respective characters so well (especially Namjoon [BTS RM/Kim Namjoon] and Yoongi) that I simply thought it was best to have Taehyung, Jimin [BTS Jimin/Park Jimin] and Jungkook as the three lead roles. I chose them more based on how I thought they could personally fit the characters, rather than focus on the dynamic. To use Taehyung as an example, I thought that he would fit the character of the informant in my story because in reality, he is intelligent and seemed like he would suit the role. For Jimin, I thought he would be a good choice for a character that some might think is vulnerable or even weak. He is actually very strong and the most important character for the plot progression. For Jungkook, I liked the thought of someone with such an innocent outer appearance hiding a dark secret.

I'm so glad that readers took to Jimin so positively on a whole. I know there are some that hated him, or that hated the fact I chose him for such a role (a 'negative' sex worker role). But Jimin is the most important character for the plot progression. It is through him that the entire plan finally culminates in the explosive finish. I wanted to treat him with care because I understood that his character could go very wrong if not handled correctly. It would have been easy for him to simply become nothing more than a sexual prop, should the story have focused too much on Taehyung and Jungkook as the key players. So, I decided to subvert it by giving Jimin the ultimate hand in the story and allowing him to have more control than Jungkook in the end. If Jimin had not decided to follow through with the plan, if he had decided to snitch or had simply refused to do his part in exposing the gang, the story would've ended drastically differently. But I also didn't want to write Jimin taking control of the entire situation at the end because it would've felt ingenuine. He is a character that has been deeply affected by a lifetime of trauma. I was worried that some might take my portrayal of his trauma the wrong way, and see him not as a character that has suffered immense mental damage but rather as an annoying, weak character that gets in the way of more 'interesting' dynamics. I'm sure there will be readers that think that. Mentally traumatized individuals are often seen in such negative light, be they fictional characters or real people. When writing his character, especially in the later scenes, I wanted to make sure the trauma he experienced would shape his behaviour. Writing the scene of him getting ready to leave, when he is taking his pills and he doesn't think he can do it, it was hard. It was hard getting into that headspace of feeling so powerless in the moment and knowing that freedom is in reach, but not knowing how to achieve it. He was a difficult character to write, but I think he turned out just right in the end.

Taehyung was probably the best character to write. I love characters that start off so morally upright and pristine, and by the end of the story, their backs are bending and close to breaking from the weight of their conscience and misdeeds. His character has many facets to him that made his perspectives so interesting to tackle. From his green days in the gang, where he is horrified by the violence he sees, to the changes in his psyche as he starts to become desensitized to it all. Fundamentally, Taehyung begins the story as a good man, a hero, but by the end, there is no black and white thinking. He has become grey, muddied from his time spent in the gang. Is he a hero for bringing them down? Would a hero do the things that he did in order to bring down the gang? He killed people. He tortured people. He threatened a man with a gun, a man he knew had a deepset fear of guns that would severely trigger him. I think it all depends on how the reader sees it. The hardest thing to write for his character was his troubled descent into the relationship between him, Jungkook and Jimin, and how it affects his thought processes and emotions. I didn't want House of Cards to be seen as a romantic story when I created it. If readers see it that way, they are more than entitled to their own interpretations. I cannot tell them how they can interpret my art, that is not my role as the creator. I don't know if I effectively portrayed the co-dependency between the three main characters as well as I would've liked. But I had never tackled such a story and themes before, and so it was all new to me.

I didn't know that Jungkook had the least perspective from the three main characters. Similarly, I never really put that much effort into creating and developing his character! Jungkook simply 'happened' in the moment. He would appear in the chapter, and then his character would basically take control of the scene. I never really knew what he was going to say or do beyond my rough plans for each scene. I just waited until he appeared and let the creative spirit flow through me. That's how he came to be! I've had that happen many times in the past with characters—they have a life of their own and I've no control over them. In my story, Brotherhood, Taehyung happened the same way. It was impossible to write his character in that story because he was so wild and free-spirited that it didn't feel right unless his behaviour was a total spur-of-the-moment reaction to the other characters and new plot points. But with Jungkook in House of Cards, I don't know why I didn't have him planned out like the others. It's interesting to think that he might've had a good progression when I never planned any of it in detail!

Were there any original characters you particularly liked writing or enjoyed?

When you wrote for the BTS hyung line, how did you determine their roles in the story and characterize each of them?

Is there a reason behind Namjoon saying “brother” or was it a consciously written character quirk?

When you handled more serious subject matter in House of Cards, how did you feel when writing it? Were you ever startled by your own work?

Was there any type of purposeful titling for the fanfiction chapters?

What was your reason for House of Cards’ open ending?

I liked writing Lim, the original informant that helped Taehyung join the gang. I like writing characters that come across as sleazy. In his case, the sleaze was all an act and wasn't true to his character; he was affecting it for the sake of creating a persona. But I enjoy writing absolute sleaze balls too—the kind of guys that have chest hair and wear gold chains and thick watches, who practically ooze oil. I just find them fun! Lim was a good teacher, even when he was rough around the edges. It was sad doing what I had to do to him for the sake of the plot. But I feel like Lim understood the game as well as everyone else, and so he knew he was running on borrowed time. 

Of course, I loved writing Bae Goohee too! He was an absolute bastard! I loved writing this figure that is spoken about throughout the story as a frightening man, one so brutal that the readers are already wary of him before he even appears in the story. I believe that Taehyung refers to him as a 'guard dog' at some point. I think Bae is the scariest character in the story for me because he is so ruthless and willing to do any order that the Jeon clan give to him. That kind of blind and unwavering devotion is frightening!

I also enjoyed writing Sungah and Jangmi. I think they're the only female characters in the story that have dialogue? Sungah has a great backstory that I unfortunately couldn't go into too much in the story, but it shaped her character a lot. I like how frank and intelligent she is—she holds her own even in a department filled with men that receive far more praise than she does simply because she is a woman. She also allowed me to add an angle about the unfair treatment of women in jobs that have power, drawing parallels with how Taehyung faces discrimination from his fellow officers when his sexuality is abruptly revealed during the investigation. As for Jangmi, I just liked writing about the wife of a mob boss! And not one that is simply a trophy wife, but actually has a lot of power and influence across the city. I wish I had been able to feature her more, alongside her husband, Jeon himself. But I like the scenes they appear in and I enjoyed writing them.

For the rest of the members, I had Namjoon and Hoseok [BTS J-Hope/Jung Hoseok]'s characters planned right from the start. I had also created plans for Yoongi and Seokjin [BTS Jin/Kim Seokjin], but I wasn't sure how much of a role they would play in the overall story. As I started writing them, I realised that Yoongi would play an important role in both Taehyung and Jimin's character development, and so he ended up featuring a lot more than I had expected. I planned their jobs and then let them influence how I would write them. Namjoon and Hoseok's characters came naturally. Yoongi's character completely took over his job role and basic description and became a really strong character that I'm proud of. Seokjin was a little trickier because he doesn't appear in too many scenes—but the scenes he does are integral to the plot. I needed to make sure that his character said everything he needed to in his limited scenes. He has quite the bombshell to drop after all! Seokjin was also tricky because I wanted him to have an air of mystery around him. I wanted him to be the kind of guy that not even Taehyung and his police connections would be able to unearth much about; a ghost in the system. I would've also liked for him to feature more in the story, but I feel like his character appeared in the essential scenes that the story needed. He was going to feature more in the planned sequel, being one of the first characters to appear alongside Yoongi. He was going to serve an important role, so I'm disappointed that I didn't get to show those scenes to readers.

With Namjoon, I wanted to portray him as a mature character, but not one that was conservative and stiff. I thought about having him say things like 'man' but that seemed too casual and didn't suit his character. 'Man' made him seem more like a surfer than a police officer. But when he said 'brother' in one of the scenes, I realised the word suited him better. It was fraternal, and it allowed him to show some affection towards the other characters without having to have physical contact with them. It's not the only Namjoon I've written that says 'brother' a lot. In Valentino Summers, Namjoon has experience with hippies in the neighbourhood that he lives in, so he also refers to other characters like Jimin as 'brother.' It just seems to suit him! I guess it's because I like creating Namjoon characters that are intelligent and mature, but still have a gentle and warm presence. I could picture him saying it in real life (I'm certain he already has!)

When writing serious subject matter, I'm surprised to admit that I was never shocked by what I was writing! I guess it's because I already knew that I was going to be handling dark themes. I wouldn't have tackled such subjects had I not felt comfortable doing so. Dark content isn't for everyone, and by that I don't simply mean consuming it. Creating it can be very difficult for some writers, and can even cause distress. It's not easy diving into a world that is filled with crime, pain and fear. It's even harder putting yourself into the shoes of a character that is suffering/has suffered. I was never writing in a desensitised state though. Far from it. I'm actually very sensitive to violence in reality. In fiction, it depends on the violence—but I'm usually not too affected by it. I've been a fan of horror since I was a child, and so I've seen a lot of nasty films filled with gore and 'shocking' deaths that never really had much of an effect on me. Unrealistic violence doesn't scare me. But when it comes to personal violence, that is always frightening to me. It's far scarier writing a scene where a character feels threatened by another character and doesn't know what is going to happen to them then, say, writing a scene of a character dying a bloody, ridiculous death in a horror story. Personal violence is much more realistic, therefore it is more unsettling to write. In House of Cards, the violence is very personal. It's in your face, it's inescapable for the characters that are involved in it. But at no point did I ever feel like I needed to stop writing because I was uncomfortable or scared by the content. If I had been uncomfortable, it would have been very reckless of me to continue writing the story.

My word of advice to fellow dark content writers: it's always important to recognise your own boundaries. There's nothing wrong with removing dark content from a story if you get a bad vibe or feel strange when writing/reviewing it. Always follow your gut instincts and never put out work that you don't like.

When writing stories, I vary between titling the chapters and leaving them blank. For House of Cards, I cannot remember the exact method for naming the chapters. Sometimes, the title comes to me when I am writing the plans and I have an idea that just suits the mood of the chapter. Other times, I have finished the entire chapter and I have to spend some time reviewing the content to decide that the title will be. In some cases, I have finished most of a whole story and I'm still not certain what to title it! I feel like with House of Cards, the titles came after the chapters were finished, or at least when they were works-in-progress.

There are some titles that really stand out to me. 'Nice Teeth' for example, is a really ridiculous title. Going into the chapter, I don't think many readers would've imagined what it could mean. 'Submachine Sodomy' is even funnier. I really can't believe I chose that as a title! I'll bet a lot of readers saw it and thought, "Oh no! Not another gunplay scene!" Luckily for them, it wasn't a reference to Jungkook's predilection for firearms in bed.

In terms of chapter titles that I really like: 'Delusions of Grandeur,' 'I Own This Fucking City,' 'Sleeping Dogs Bite' and 'Carpe-fucking-Diem.' I just feel like these titles are very well suited to the contents of the chapters. They are the kind of titles that have bite to them, that hint at action or an important plot point.

As for the open ending, there are a couple of reasons. First of all, I had planned to continue the story in a sequel that would pick up after the events of House of Cards, roughly a year on after the investigation. However, I did not pursue this sequel. I wanted House of Cards to end on an open note for the sequel to continue the story. When it comes to certain stories, I just feel that closed endings aren't always necessary. I often enjoy stories with open endings. With House of Cards, it didn't seem right just closing the book and saying it was over. There was still so much that needed to be explored. Unfortunately, I decided to not continue it. But I still think that House of Cards' ending fits the story.

Were there any scenes or moments or lines in House of Cards that you were particularly proud of or want to highlight?

If you were to write the Yoomin sequel to House of Cards, how would’ve that looked like?

How were readers’ reactions to your work in the beginning?

Did any reader comments stick with you in particular?

How did you take the criticisms and hatred towards House of Cards for its serious subject matter? When did those types of comments start appearing? Also, where did the hatred come from? Twitter? Tumblr? Ao3 comments? Did people harass you at all or hurt you? How did you heal from that?

House of Cards has a lot of scenes. I'm proud of most of them and I think I did the best I could when writing them. I do not really like the sex scenes, but that is because I wanted to write them in a dirty, sleazy way. If I could, I would change them. I like the action scenes, especially the Gold Monkey Casino and police raid scenes. Action scenes are hard to write! Fight scenes in particular are so tricky. I often sit there, choreographing the fights so I can describe them! I loved writing Yoongi's introduction to the story, when he walks into the scene wearing nothing but his underpants.

One scene that I really liked writing is the scene where Namjoon and Hoseok investigate the USB stick that Taehyung sends to them. I personally love Namjoon and Hoseok's characters. I always enjoyed writing them. In this scene, I liked getting to write them in a setting that was not the police department office. A scene where they got to relax and banter with each other, even though they were still working. They discover a horrifying crime ring in the city, but they are left with no choice but to keep it secret because they do not want to risk blowing Taehyung's cover. I do not know why I really like this scene, I just do.

In the sequel, which focused primarily on Jimin and Yoongi, the plans were to have them reunite through Seokjin—who has avoided jail time through a plea deal with the SMPA. They undergo a healing process together as they try to come to terms with what happened to them. Yoongi has a lot of unhealed trauma from his childhood, much like Jimin, which I only got to briefly touch upon in House of Cards. They grow closer from bonding over their traumatic experiences, and they become happier and healthier as a result. Taehyung and Seokjin were also going to be main characters, with Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok making supporting appearances over the duration of the story. It was going to be drastically different from House of Cards because it would be lacking in action and violence. It would have been much more intimate, with much more scenes of characters talking and discovering things about one another.

I cannot remember early reactions to the story, I just know they were positive. There was a lot of positive support from the start. As I updated and started to get more and more into the story, I received a lot of support on tumblr too. I started posting chapter previews there, as I used to get asks [On Tumblr, users are able to ask bloggers questions through an “Ask” function. This can be done anonymously or with their own blog username associated with the question.] requesting them. I got A LOT of asks on my original Tumblr from readers that wanted to discuss the characters and certain scenes. It was really interesting seeing just how much the readers were interested in the story, so much so that they wanted to learn even more about the characters and the universe I had created.

Through House of Cards, I have received comments and messages from readers that had addictions. They told me about how they recognised their own behaviors through Taehyung, and this helped them realise what was happening to them. Those comments stuck with me for obvious reasons. I have family members with addiction issues, and knowing that I could help some stranger I have never met before come to terms with their own addictive behaviours had a massive impact on me. Funnily enough, a negative comment stuck with me. It was not a bad comment, by no means meant to cause offence. It was a comment that was left on the story when I was posting the early chapters. I recall the reader asking when the story was going to pick up the pace because it was too slow. It stuck with me because, at this point in the story, Taehyung had already trained to become an undercover agent, had enrolled in the gang, had met and interacted with Jungkook, and had murdered a man. I was surprised that this amount of development had been seen as 'slow' by a reader, as I had thought the plot had been moving very fast.

I never really had any hate posted on the story when I was updating it. I got angry reactions when I had finished it. Because the story had not ended the way some readers had wanted, I think that was what caused the negative reactions. On my original Tumblr, I even got an ask about how an anon reader was going to write their own ending because my one was bad. I told them that I did not want them to take my story and change it like that. I have no idea if they ever posted the ending anywhere. The angry reactions were mostly from shippers, who were upset with the story not ending the way they had wanted. To them, I ask: what were you expecting from the story? I thought it was always obvious that Taehyung was going to do what he had set out to do from the start, so I do not think I misled readers at all. It was a story about an undercover agent taking down a gang—and that is what I wrote.

I know there was some animosity towards me on Twitter too. Twitter is a whirlpool of negativity, I am not surprised. Writing House of Cards made me appear problematic. My partner used to follow an author a long time back, who tweeted about me being problematic—despite having never interacted with me or admittedly read my stories. It was shocking to me that people were making assumptions of who I was as a person based on a story I created. I have never created stories with the aims of hurting or upsetting others. I am a very quiet and private person, and I hate the idea of hurting others. It was strange to me that people could assume me to be this cruel or even dangerous individual, intent on hurting others, because I created a fictional story. Do they think the same of script writers for television shows? Or film directors, who create films with dark subject matter? Do they think published authors are problematic people for writing dark and disturbing content? Do they think certain genres should not exist because they do not personally like them?

I do think it is strange that fan fiction writers are placed on these ridiculously high pedestals of moral absolutism. Fan fiction was created to be a space for creative outlet for marginalised individuals, particularly queer individuals. The heavy censorship of dark and unusual content is putting this entire ethos at danger. I understand not wanting to have certain topics included in stories because there is a risk that the content can be used for grooming or can be presented in a way that can negatively affect young consumers' perceptions (like pedophilia for example.) I certainly agree that there needs to be boundaries in place to stop the community from being flooded with such illegal content. But I think there is a difference between wanting to remove dangerous content, and wanting to get rid of content you do not like. Content can be problematic to you, but that does not make it dangerous, illegal, or bad. For some readers, the content they create is their way of dealing with trauma. Maybe this is not healthy for them. But that is their decision to make, not yours.

I orphaned the story because I did not want to handle the potential backlash. To put it simply, I do not handle negative criticism well. Not because I am stuck-up and think I am perfect, but because I am a very anxious person. Just reading angry comments makes me feel very uncomfortable, often nauseous. I know that House of Cards has received overwhelmingly positive feedback from readers, and for that I am thankful. But I had to distance myself for the sake of my own mental health. Since orphaning it, it exploded in popularity. I am thankful that I orphaned it because that amount of attention would frighten me a lot, haha~

What was your reaction to the fanfiction trailer by Sappiamur?

How did you come to the decision to reveal your real name in the end note of House of Cards?

How did you feel when you finished House of Cards?

How did you come to the decision to orphan House of Cards?

Did you ever anticipate the overwhelming fan reaction to House of Cards?

How do you feel knowing that House of Cards is one of the most read fanfictions on Ao3?

What do you want House of Cards to be remembered for?

What do you hope people take away from House of Cards?

Why do you think House of Cards became so popular?

I had to go back and watch it. It's been some time since I last have, and I'm still as amazed by it now as I was back then. The trailer is insane. I cannot imagine how much work went into making it. It's so good and it fits the vibes of the story to perfection. I think the first time I watched it, I was in shock. I must have repeated it at least 10 times in a row, just to make sure it was real and I wasn't imagining it. Then I think I screamed about it on my social media accounts, haha~ If you reading this have not watched the trailer, consider doing so. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Back when I first started posting fanfics, I used to get a lot of asks wanting to know my name, my pronouns, stuff like that. I thought by adding my name at the end of the stories, it would help cut down on these requests. But I also did so because I used to get a lot of asks referring to me as 'author-nim' and I didn't like being addressed by this honorific. I'm not Korean so I have no right to receive that honorific. So, I included my real name so readers could address me with it when sending me asks and interacting with me. I don't add my name at the end of my stories now, but my name is in my Twitter bio for those that want to know.

When I finished it, I felt relieved! I was so calm in the moment! Looking back on it, I can't remember much. But I do remember finishing House of Cards without any issues. The final chapters flowed smoothly, it all clicked into place, and I had a great time writing them.

I came to the decision to orphan the story after several nights of contemplation. I was considering deleting the story, along with a few others, but my partner and some friends told me I shouldn't do so. They suggested orphaning it instead. So, I did so. I didn't want to delete it in case readers that had started it had not gotten to finish it yet. I would've felt very mean robbing them of the opportunity to finish the story like that. I don't regret orphaning it instead of deleting it. I didn't want to destroy the story, I just needed some distance between me and the story.

I didn't anticipate it, and I still don't understand it! I'm shocked that House of Cards got the reaction that it received. Do I think it's a good story? Yes, I think that I worked hard to create a story that is enjoyable to read. But did I ever think it would get the reaction it did? Not in a million years! I thought that it would be one of my more popular stories because a) the pairings and b) the content. Gang stories usually tend to get a lot of attention because it's a popular genre in fanfiction. I just didn't expect it to reach such a vast amount of hits, kudos and comments.

I'm in shock that it is one of the most read stories on AO3. I don't think I will ever be able to create another story that will garner that kind of attention and feedback. It's a once in a lifetime thing, so I'm immensely proud of myself for achieving such a feat. But really, it's all because of the readers that it achieved such a goal. I'm so thankful for every single one of them.

I just want it to be remembered for being enjoyable, I think. I don't have any grand and lofty ambitions for the story. I think so long as the readers enjoyed it, that is all that matters.

I'm not sure what I would like readers to take away from House of Cards. I guess I want them to reflect on the idea of morality and that not everything is black-and-white. Good people can do bad things, and bad things can happen to good people. It's hard to answer this question because House of Cards isn't a story that I consider to have deep messages in it? There are no messages about acceptance and love and healthy relationships and such, like some of my other stories.

Honestly? I don't know what made it get so popular. I assume it's because of the pairings or the setting of the story. I know that a lot of readers say they love the story because of how well it's written, but I can't comment on that as the creator, haha~ I can't say my story is well-written as I'm not consuming it from an outside perspective. What I can say is that I do think I created a story that has a lot of twists and turns and betrayals, which I think adds to the enjoyment factor.

How are you now in 2020? Are you writing professionally in real life at all? 

How do you feel BTS fanfiction has changed over time? Since you’ve been writing for it for so long. 

Do you have any messages for people who may read this interview in the future?

I'm not writing professionally. I have self-published two books via Amazon and Lulu. One was a basic re-branding of my story babes in the woods. The other was a total rewrite of Brotherhood, which I called 'Brothers,' featuring a whole new setting and roster of characters. I published them as readers showed an interest in reading original stories. I have been considering rewriting House of Cards as an original work in the future, but I can't say for certain that I will do so.

Since I started writing, I think there's been a lot of changes in the fandom—not only in fanfiction but in general. There's been popular trends that have come and gone (I was around for the explosion of social media and text-based AUs, which I personally am not a fan of) but there's also been a lot of push for more inclusive content. I'm really happy by the amount of inclusive content that I see these days. Despite some pushback from non-queer fans that sometimes have an issue with queer subject matter (for example, trans characters) I think it's wonderful that artists of all colours, genders and sexualities are now proudly creating content they want to see, and not simply just what is 'in demand' from the fandom.

The message that I would like to share with readers of this interview is: stay healthy, stay happy, and most importantly, stay you. I also want to take this moment to tell them this - if you are considering becoming a creator, but you are worried about reception to your work, or that it might not be good enough, stop right now! Stop doubting yourself and just give it a shot! I was once like you, scared that my weird and niche interests and writing would be ignored or even mocked by the fandom because no one would like it. Had I not decided to take the plunge, my life would be so drastically different. I've made so many friends, fallen in love, and completely changed my life by creating fan content. It can be scary, but once you take the leap, you will find your feet coming down on solid earth without any danger.

Thank you for reading this interview. Further below are reminders and information about this interview and Charmseoul’s Fanlore project.

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This interview is a part of the Top 50 Most Hit BTS Archive of our Own Works Project by Charmedseoul. The project documents the works and authors of the top 50 most hit BTS works on Archive of Our Own. All work for this project is done through Fanlore, which is run by the Organization of Transformative Works. However, Charmedseoul herself is not associated with Fanlore or OTW directly. All information documented through this project is done with full transparency.

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[hangrypa]

s/p first year as a PA

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

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

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

What did the pandemic mean for our transplant patients? 

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

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

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

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

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

Lessons learned as a first year PA:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[buckybarnesbingo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Georges Batroc, Grant Ward, Jasper Sitwell, Arnim Zola, Aldrich Killian, Clint Barton, Alexander Pierce, Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov, Jack Rollins, Brock Rumlow, Pa Barnes, Peggy Carter, Nick Fury, various students and custodians at Shield Academy Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Obnoxious Rich Boy Bucky Barnes, Scholarship Student Rugby Player Steve Rogers, SHIELD Academy (Marvel), Hardass rugby coaches, Pining, Possessive Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Thor is a good friend, Sam Is a Good Friend, Hydra secret society bullshit, Right-wing bigots, Homophobia, Bullying, This fucking school, Angst, Thoughts about college, CA:WS references, Smoking, anti-Semitism, Holocaust denial, parental pressure, Worry about loss of older relative, Rumlow is a fucking snitch, Peer Pressure, Dom/sub Undertones, Bruises, Bodily Fluids, Beautiful beautiful pain, Punishment, Dirty Talk, rope, Bondage, Spontaneous amateur shibari, gagging, Blindfolds, Dry Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Unsafe Sex, Aftercare, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Loathing, Window escape, Urge indulgences, Someone must be watching over them, Nightmares, Rumlow is The Worst, Racist Language, Dread, Foreboding Series: Part 7 of Come Out and Haunt Me Summary:

Within a few feet of Steve, Bucky drops quietly to his knees. Tonight, especially, he really wishes he could bang them on the hard wooden floor, make it hurt, start the punishment already, but they can’t risk the noise. He hangs his head.

“Steve.” The whisper is pulled out of Bucky by desperation and panic. He’s not sure Steve hears, but his master drops soundlessly next to him, bringing his face close to Bucky’s.

“Buck,” Steve rumbles, lifting Bucky’s chin to look him in the eyes. “Are you OK? What’s going on, Buck.”

“No,” Bucky chokes, shaking his head against Steve’s hand. “I mean, later,” he amends a second later. “Right now, you have to punish me. I’ve been such a bad boy.”

“But Buck…” Steve’s gorgeous face looks troubled and hesitant. Bucky cuts him off.

“Seriously, Stevie…seriously, sir,” he whispers. “I’ve been really, really, really bad. You need to teach me a lesson. And sir…” Bucky looks pointedly, desperately, at Steve. “Make it hurt. Please.”

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Wedding Colors (Part 3)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

13:00—lunch. For the first time since the ominous day in July that she’d descended into the gloom of 13, Effie’s belly was full. As weeks had turned into months, she hadn’t felt hunger. She’d picked at meals and pushed unpalatable food around her tray. But now something was different. Flint scraped over steel inside her like the wind across her cheeks that morning. Her spoon repeatedly clinked the bottom of the bowl of squash soup. It took every ounce of restraint to not bring the whole bowl to her mouth and tilt it upward to collect the last drops.

Keenly observant, Cressida noted, “That’s new.”

“What?”

“You finishing a meal here.” She dropped her voice. “Are you pregnant, Trinket?”

Effie’s face flushed scarlet, blushing through burnt cheeks. “Bite your tongue!” she snapped.

Cressida glanced at Pollux, and Effie recognized her own faux pas. “Please excuse me. I wasn’t thinking about...”

Interacting with an Avox who was a regular citizen rather than a servant of the Capitol was still a new experience for her.

Pollux signed, “No problem,” and his brother offered the translation.

Effie returned her attention to the inquisitive filmmaker. “I’m JUST hungry. Must a woman be pregnant in order to finish a bowl of soup?” She whispered “pregnant” as if saying it too loudly might invite the situation. Or just as worrisome, Haymitch could walk in at that moment, hear the word, flip out, and not touch her again. Now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box of sex with him, she didn’t want to put a lid back on it.

“Okay. I get it.” Cressida was intrigued by Effie’s blush, but otherwise mollified. “You like the soup. End of story.”

It was golden orange in color and lightly flavored with spices that tasted like autumn. Ginger was recognizable, but the others were a mystery to Effie. Her experience with cooking was mostly limited to a course she’d taken a decade and a half prior at Charis School of Grace, Beauty, and Charm.

Her mother had insisted on “Finishing School” for Effie after she graduated from the Academy. The summer classes had been a compromise, since her father was resolute in his intention to send her to University. He’d even dipped into his personal inheritance to pay extra tuition when her test scores didn’t qualify her outright for admission.

“Charis will focus Euphemia on the most sophisticated etiquette and deportment, preparing her for marriage into greater wealth,” her mother argued.

“University will prepare Effie for a practical career suited to her strongest skills,” her father contended.

“Grace, beauty, and charm ARE her strongest skills. Face it, dear. Like you, our daughter lacks the talent to be a Gamemaker.”

“She has the talent to be more than a rich man’s wife.”

“If I were the wife of a RICH man, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Their barbs stung each other. After years of practice, the Trinkets knew just where to aim them. They agreed that Effie needed a path which would secure an optimal future for the family. Neither of them asked her what she wanted.

If they’d asked back then, she would have had one specific answer. And if she was honest with herself now, her deepest desire was exactly the same. If she’d voiced it then, her parents would have sent her to the Asylum first before anything else. So she said nothing about it.

By 18, she’d become a master at the art of knowing when to hold her tongue. She’d internalized the pressure to please her parents and reflect positively on her family’s name and station in society. The burden of doing so was a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Effie’s shoulders ached too from the physical work of gathering and carrying around large sacks of perfect leaves. She daydreamed about a bath full of bubbles followed by a nap on a real bed. Allowing the fantasy was a mistake because then her body screamed for it.

She wondered if even babies were allowed to nap here, or did they get merely a half hour of “reflection” before dinner like everyone else? Did they have daily schedules imprinted on their chubby little arms? Eat. Poop. Sleep. What else did the tiny things do? She’d never paid much attention to them in the Capitol. Had she ever seen a baby in 13? She couldn’t recall.

***

14:00—volunteering. The children would be out of school soon. Plutarch told her to expect them along with anyone who was between work shifts. Coin was allowing more flexibility than usual in order to encourage volunteerism. Effie considered the irony in the word spelled out on her arm in purple ink. Following schedules was mandatory. Once “volunteering” is tattooed on your body, doesn’t it cease to be voluntary?

That place made her head hurt if she thought about it too much. She pulled her rose-tinted sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, hoping the change in light would temper some of the ache, and help her feel less vulnerable.

“Ready or not, here I go,” she said out loud.

She approached the kitchen staff for permission to use large plastic serving bowls to hold the leaves at the tables. The kitchen manager, a middle aged woman named Cuire, put up resistance, muttering something about needing authorization from the president.

Greasy Sae showed no qualms about interjecting. “Now, those leaves ain’t all that different from a salad. We’ll have the bowls washed again long before dinner service.”

The older woman, with her hair up in a kerchief more plain than Effie’s, carried a stack of serving bowls through the doorway without waiting for the manager’s consent. She returned to the kitchen for more until every serving bowl in 13 was in the dining hall. Cuire pursed her lips but said nothing.

Sae pulled a handful of leaves out of one of the canvas bags and dropped them into a bowl. “The list of procedures here’s a mile long. Sometimes the only way to keep these folks from sayin’ ‘no’ is to just not ask ‘em. And then work fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Effie joined her efforts to quickly transfer the leaves to the bowls. “Thank you, Sae.”

“Thank YOU, girl. Gatherin’ up all these to make pretty things for the weddin’, you must be exhausted.”

“I had help. From Haymitch.”

“Did you?”

“I had to ambush him.”

“Nah. As often as that boy looks at you, I’d guess he went willingly.”

Ambushed and willing. Yes, he was.

Beetee wheeled up to her with several spools of wire, wire cutters, rolls of electrical tape, and several pairs of scissors.

“The copper color is PERFECT!” Effie gushed.

“This wire is at least a hundred years old,” he replied with little emotion, “The only reason it shows no corrosion is because 13 is fastidious about its storage conditions, including adequate air circulation. The gauge is small. The electrical current from present technologies, would overload and overheat it. The wire is rather useless actually.”

“Well, we’ve found a use for it!”

“In the absence of copper tape, this seems the best match, which is ironic since brown is typically used for high voltages. And high voltages would burn right through this particular wire.”

“We’re just making garlands today, not blowing out an arena!”

“You’re speaking non-metaphorically, of course. We might hope the propo will play a role in shattering the Capitol’s grip on the restless minds of its citizens... That said, it isn’t my intention to imply that YOUR mind is gripped and restless.”

A gripped and restless mind sounded fairly accurate to Effie. “I doubt the Capitol views me as its citizen at this point.” I guess that makes me homeless, even though my family home, my apartment, my belongings, my entire history are all there.

Beetee noticed her smile fade. “You might be right about that. ...I’m sorry.”

After seeing what her victors had been through and what they were still going through, she felt uncomfortable being apologized to by a victor who she held in high regard. I don’t deserve an apology, though manners dictated the proper response to an apology was a gracious, “Thank you.”

“Will you be staying to help?” she added.

“I’m needed in Special Defense. Bring the leftover supplies when you come down later.”

“Beetee, thank you for this.”

The clock was ticking. Effie went to work immediately, arranging leaves in alternating colors and shapes and adhering the stems to a long length of wire.

“What a beautiful pattern!” A friendly voice spoke over Effie’s shoulder. She turned to see Delly Cartwright whose blonde hair fell free of its usual braid.

“An artisan! Delly, I’m grateful you’re here to help with production and quality control.”

From their occasional chats at mealtimes, Effie had learned that Delly’s parents had been shoemakers, and 13 put her to work in textile production as soon as she’d turned 18.

“Me? An artisan?”

“You WILL be, dear. I’ve seen your stitching. I’ve also observed your congenial way with people.” Effie cut a long length of wire for Delly and set her up with supplies to work at another table. “Let’s spread around the talent.”

When school let out, Delly’s younger brother was the first to arrive, not wanting to go “home” to empty quarters. Posy Hawthorne followed close at his heels, skipping to keep up with his much longer legs.

“Stop followin’ me!” he told her.

“I’m not followin’ you. We’re just goin’ the same place, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re a baby, and I don’t want you sittin’ at MY table.”

“Cordwain!” Delly interjected, “That’s not polite!”

“I’m FIVE years old, and I’ll sit wherever I please, CordWAIN.” With three older brothers, Posy could hold her own in disagreements with just about anyone, especially boys. Effie admired that along with her manners.

“Aw, Dellyyyy,” her brother whined, “You’re supposed to call me Cord!”

“You apologize to Posy, and I won’t have to be so stern.”

“Do I HAVE to?! She’s just Vick’s little sister.”

“And you’re MY little brother, so, yes, you do. You know Ma and Pa would say so if—“

“Ma and Pa are dead!” Cord sat at the table with Delly and folded his arms across his chest.

Delly sighed, and her tone softened, “Cordy, honey, that’s all the more reason to apologize.”

His lip quivered, and he muttered in a hoarse voice. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry they died,” Posy empathized, “My daddy died b’fore I was born.”

She sat across from Effie and looked at her for a long fifteen seconds. Effie wasn’t used to children being so young. The girl’s dark hair fell long past her shoulders in two braids. Her gray eyes were deeply set. She had the look of a person who’d seen the shadow of death and kept going.

“I like your pink glasses.” Posy twirled one of her braids around her finger. “I used to have pink ribbons. Two of ‘em.”

“When I was your age, I wore pink ribbons in my hair. Pink was my favorite color.”

“Mine too! Gale says we can’t go back fer the ribbons. He says they’re gone. Do you think they’re gone?”

“Well... I...” For goodness sake. What does one say to a child whose district was fire bombed to rubble?

Cord muttered some more, “Of course they’re gone!”

Posy ignored him, waiting for Effie’s response.

“Your brother, Gale, is wise, dear.” Effie saw her expectant little face fall. “I am going to your district tomorrow. With Katniss. Would you like for me to look for the ribbons so you know for certain?”

Posy nodded.

“Then I’ll be sure to do that. In the meantime would you like to help make a garland? There aren’t any pink leaves, but there are other pretty colors.”

Posy reached into the bowl and pulled out a red one. “Can I do this one?”

“Of course. Let me show you.”

Effie demonstrated with a different leaf then watched Posy’s small fingers peel and cut the tape and use it to add her chosen leaf to the copper wire.

“How’s that?” the girl asked.

The tape was crooked. The leaf was crooked, and it didn’t fall in line with the pattern. Effie considered telling her so. Aemilia Trinket certainly would have. And for that reason if no other, Effie said to the five-year/old, “That’s wonderful, dear.”

Posy beamed. “You’re nice. You’re not scary at all! I’m gonna go tell Rory that he’s wrong.” She hopped out of the chair and skipped away, turning around long enough to say, “I’ll be back!”

Effie watched her go, not knowing quite what to think. Rory?... She couldn’t remember who that was. One of the Hawthorne boys?

“This year would have been Rory’s first reaping,” Delly explained.

Effie didn’t need to hear anything more in order to understand. The truth split her heart. Half of it dropped like lead into her stomach. The other half rose up into her throat, threatening to choke her.

The children are afraid of me.

Even without a reaping ball in front of me, they are still afraid.

In that moment, she didn’t have time or space to process the realization. She just sat there, forcing a smile, trying to keep the vacant feeling in her chest from showing on her face. As volunteers streamed into the dining hall, she swallowed the lump in her throat, pressed her palm to her stomach, and directed the project as planned.

More children arrived giggling and singing, 🎶”Come live with me and be my love...”🎶 It was the beginning of District 4’s wedding song, which they’d started learning in school. 🎶”...I'll take you out upon the sea...”🎶 drew them into conversation about how the ocean might look, feel, sound, smell, and taste. None of them had ever been to the seashore. They’d only seen it in books.

🎶”...To share the starry night with you...” 🎶 intrigued them too. Some of the children from 12 tried to describe the stars to the kids from 13 who had never been above ground at night. “A star is like the tip of the flame of a candle that never flickers.”... “They just pop out in the sky as it’s changing from blue to black.”... “My grandma says stars are ghosts that come to visit us at night. Good ghosts, not scary ones.”... “Ghosts ain’t real.”... “Are so!”... “Are not!”

Dozens of adults were there to cut wire and strips of tape for the younger children and to ensure the garlands turned out beautifully.

With so many helping hands, Effie had to let go of her precise plans. The work of other artisans became apparent as some patterns emerged which were even more pleasing than what Plutarch and Effie envisioned.

Boggs showed up, carrying his son on his hip. The boy seemed younger than Posy, though Effie was far from an expert about children under 12. Boggs sat at a table with the boy in his lap. The little one reached for the leaves just as Boggs’ communicuff started flashing wildly. “Damon, buddy, President Coin is calling. I’ve just lost my break time. I’m going to need to take you back to daycare, but maybe Miss Trinket will let you take one of the leaves with you?” Boggs gave Effie a pleading look. The last thing he needed just then was an upset kid.

Damon’s big brown eyes welled up with tears. He wiped them away with the backs of his hands which were filled with leaves that he didn’t want to let go. Since the epidemic, Boggs and his son had been on their own. Looking into those teary eyes, Effie couldn’t help but feel for them. The feeling seeped into that empty space in her chest, and eased a bit of the void.

“Your son can stay awhile, if you’d like. Then I can take him back to daycare.”

“Are you sure? He’s a handful, and you have a lot going on here.”

Seeing herself in the moment as “scary ghost” rather than a star, Effie definitely was NOT sure that she was the right person to be looking after a young child. “Of course, I’m sure,” she spoke through her smiling mask.

“What do you say, buddy? Do you want to stay with Miss Trinket and make a garland, or do you want me to take you back to daycare now?”

“It’s Effie. The only one who calls me Miss Trinket around here is Mr. Heavensbee.” She laughed.

Damon climbed down from Boggs’ lap and up into Effie’s. “Oh! Well, hello,” she said, pushing her chair back far enough to make room for him. He was heavier than he’d looked in the strong arms of his father. He squirmed around reaching for everything at once: more leaves of every shape and color, scissors...

Boggs’ eyes widened.

Effie handed Damon a roll of tape in trade for the scissors. “You can hold the tape, and I’LL do the cutting.”

‘Thank you,’ Boggs mouthed the words then told his son, “This is an important job, soldier. Effie is your commanding officer. Are you going to take this work seriously and mind what she tells you to do?”

“Yeth, thir, Daddy, thir!” His lisp melted Effie’s heart.

“At ease, little man. I’ll pick you up from daycare at 18:00.” Boggs kissed his son’s forehead, and Damon was already hard at work attempting to peel tape off the roll.

As Effie helped the boy put leaves on the wire, Posy returned, accompanied by one of her brothers who hurried to claim an open seat next to Cord. Posy skipped up to Effie and patted her head. “I got Vick to come, but Rory’s stubborn. YOU know how boys can be.”

Effie looked up from the table to see Haymitch leaning against a pillar near the edge of the dining hall. He was watching her closely. The expression on his face was a loaded mix of curiosity and seriousness.

“Yes, I do know how boys can be,” Effie agreed, “Especially when they are afraid.”

Haymitch had never seen Effie around little kids, and he was fascinated. The Hawthorne girl chattered on and on, tucking leaf stems into the top knot of Effie’s kerchief. Boggs’ kid was in Effie’s lap, crushing leaves with his hands and unwrapping tape for her to cut with scissors. A girl Haymitch didn’t recognize sat to the side, touching Effie’s bracelet. “Is this silver and gold?” the kid asked.

“This s costume jewelry,” Effie answered.

“What’s ‘costume’?” the girl wanted to know.

“A costume is... something you might wear when you are... pretending.”

The Hawthorne girl said to the other one, “You can wear one of my pink ribbons sometime, and we can pretend to be twins... if Effie finds my ribbons in 12 tomorrow.”

Effie locked eyes with Haymitch. “I promised I’d look, Posy, but please don’t get your hopes up, dear.”

He was trying to make sense of the situation. Effie’s going to 12 tomorrow? Why? And why is nobody telling me anything! Pissed off, he started to walk away.

“Excuse me, girls. Damon, let’s go talk to Haymitch for a few minutes.” Effie stood up, holding the boy on her hip as Boggs had done. “Haymitch! Wait...” She caught up to him before the staircase. If he’d really wanted to avoid her, he would have already been long gone.

“What are you thinking!?” he asked, unsure of what he was wondering about most... Why was Effie going to 12 where the burned corpses of his people were still rotting? Why didn’t she tell him about her plans? And what the hell was his heart doing as he watched her with those little kids?

“Annie needs help selecting one of Cinna’s dresses for the wedding, and Katniss asked if I could go with them for support. So, of course, I said yes. ...Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me nothing, sweetheart. But it’s bad there. You’re going to see things that’ll change you.”

“I’m already changing.” She boosted the kid up on her hip. “There’s nothing I can do to stop that. ...And I don’t think I want to stop it.”

Damon dropped the leaves and rubbed his eyes. “Are you tired... buddy?” Effie hesitantly used one of Boggs’ nicknames for the boy. He shook his head ‘no’, but rubbed his eyes again. “How about we take these leaves to daycare so you can show your daddy?”

Damon nodded and opened his hands to the floor where the leaves had fallen. Haymitch bent to pick them up and handed them back to the kid. He stood close to them. Effie smelled like the woods, faintly like ginger, and mostly like her. The fragrances helped him feel less agitated. They were familiar, as if less was changing all at once.

“Thank you,” she said about the leaves, “Will you please tell Delly where I’m going and ask her to stay until I return?”

“Sure”

She rested her palm on Haymitch’s shirt where his sweater gaped open. She brushed her fingertips along the buttons. “Will YOU stay until I return? I could really use your help hanging these garlands in Special Defense.”

Her touch felt too good for him to say no.

The peace in his expression was answer enough for her.

As he watched her walk away, a smile crept over his face. He was far too amused to remind Effie that the Hawthorne girl had embellished her head wrap with at least a dozen leaves. In all the years, it was the best *wig* he’d seen her wear. If she was going to roam around 13 looking like a tree, then who was he to stop her?

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Ghost (sort of lol)

Bakudeku requested by @nona-inc Angst w/happy ending, AU modern times. Longer than I’d planned to write but stories go where they wanna lol.

Got the idea here

A Second Chance

In his adulthood, Izuku Midoriya did quite well for himself career-wise. He had a nice home and lived comfortably even though it was alone. Relationships had never really crossed his mind, which he chalked up to the turmoil of his childhood. It wasn’t a terribly horrible one but coming from divorced parents is never easy on young child minds. Why get close to anyone if they’ll probably leave eventually? That was a lesson bolstered by the end of primary school when his best friend ditched him for the popular kids.

It was Halloween night, and Izuku’s simply followed his normal routine after work consisting of dinner while watching a bit of television. Trick or treaters were a rarity in his neighborhood, so there was no sense in celebrating the holiday. As he waits for the news, he lets the current show drone on in the background while he scrolled mindlessly through his social media. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to what acquaintances posted and mostly looked for interesting or funny posts instead.

“Deku...”

Izuku’s brow furrows slightly at that ancient nickname. He looks at the television characters on the screen, had one of them said it? But instead of the tv show, he finds a fuzzy, staticky screen. He grabs his remote assuming something had gone wrong with the channel or service when...

“Deku, I’m sorry...”

“What the?” Izuku starts clicking the buttons and getting no response. The screen stays stuck, yet that voice... it was a familiar voice from long ago...

“...I’ve watched you from afar for all these years, because I could never admit how much I loved you and now it’s too late. I’m so sorry Deku. You’ll always be my only true love.”

Silence. Dead silence for a flash of a second when the television loudly blares back to life and startles Izuku out of his seat into a standing position. “What the fuck is going on?!”

The show had ended, and the news is now on in its regular-timed slot.

‘Breaking news, a major four car accident on the I10 highway has left 3 people dead and one in a critical condition. The victim identified as 37-year old K. Bakugou had been transported to the hospital for treatment. Police have closed off the highway in both directions, so anyone traveling in that area should use alternative routes...’

As he watches the footage of the accident story, Izuku’s hand unconscious covers his mouth and tears gather in his eyes. “Oh my gosh....” That was the voice he’d just heard! Of course, Katsuki was the only one who ever called him Deku.

He quickly calls one of the nurses at his hospital and they confirm that the man had in fact been transported there 15 minutes ago.

“Oh! Dr. Midoriya! We were just about to call you! Yes, patient Bakugou was brought in unconscious, lacerations to his arms and chest, broken leg, possible punctured lung, internal bleeding, concussion, and brain swelling which is why I was just about to call you in.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The entire way there, Izuku struggles to rationalize the message. If Katsuki was unconscious, how could that have been his voice? Then again that’s if you believed his television had somehow sent the message in the first place! Oh, this was entirely crazy! Izuku didn’t even know why his logical mind was allowing him to believe it had happened if not for the coincidence of the news coverage.

But as a neurosurgeon, he had to put all those questions aside and focus on the task at hand. The description the nurse had given him already indicated major problems, but it wasn’t until his own physical examination that determined the true extent of the damage. Primary surgical nurse Uraraka already had set up the operating room by the time Izuku arrived.

“The patient was revived once by EMTs in the ambulance and a second time in the ER after his heart stopped. Right now, the patient is intubated and prepped for emergency surgery.”

“Thank you, nurse Uraraka.”

Along with a fellow doctor, Izuku switched into a hyper focused mode. He works to repair the damage to the patient’s brain while the other doctor simultaneously focuses on internal chest injuries. Time was of the essence to stem the blood loss and mitigate further damage if they had any hope of saving the man, because even if he made it through the surgery, only a miracle would bring him back at this point.

It was now a waiting game. They keep Katsuki in a medically induced coma for the first three weeks as his body worked hard to repair itself. Once he was brought out of the induced coma, he still didn’t wake up, was breathing with the assistance of a machine, but at least the man’s heart was functioning normally. Surprisingly, Katsuki’s parents remembered Izuku and were grateful their son was in familiar hands. They’d initially flew in after the accident, but the cost to stay for such a long length of time would be too steep. So, after they returned home, he kept them up to date.

Each day that passed by, Izuku would check in on Katsuki’s progress like a normal doctor would, but at night he’d go home and ponder the ghostly message that had come through the television. He’d told no one about it because who would believe something so crazy? It just didn’t sound like the man, or rather child he remembered. Never once was there any indication Katsuki had romantic feelings for him, especially considering it was him not Izuku that ended their friendship. They saw each other in passing though middle, then high school and still nothing. So why is he now being told this?

Some say that when you die, any regrets you have must be released or your soul cannot ascend to the next plane. Izuku wasn’t religious or spiritual and before that Halloween trick he would have said he didn’t believe in anything beyond what he couldn’t see, touch, feel, and analyze. Ugh! Maybe that’s why this was all driving him so crazy. He wanted answers but the one person who could give it to him was stuck in a coma.

“Everything okay doctor?” One of the LPN’s asks Izuku. “I just need to check on the patients vitals.”

“Do what you need to nurse, I’m just visiting before I go home for the night.”

“Yes, doctor.” The woman makes her chart notations and leaves them alone again.

Because of Izuku’s standing at the hospital, he’d gotten Katsuki a private room. The man was taken off the breathing machine a week earlier and this way he could monitor the man without being pestered. There were times he would spend a few hours just watching the man sleep, trying to study what had become of his childhood friend. Through research, Izuku learned Katsuki had moved here around the same time that he’d started his internship at the hospital. Before that the man lived in the same town as the medical school he attended. It appeared Katsuki really was keeping track of Izuku, never married, and just worked in the marketing field.

Izuku squeezes the man’s hand with his eyes closed in a silent conversation. The only sounds being the beeps and noises of the machines to break the stillness. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t know what to think, what to feel, just that this man was dredging up long buried emotions that part of him was afraid to open up. Hadn’t he built up a good life, albeit a lonely one, it was still by his own wit and merits whereas Katsuki always had it so easy. The man was a smart, handsome jock, popular, and had been on track to do great things. While he was the geeky kid with freckles and wild green hair who the popular kids teased.

They were so close as little kids, all through preschool and the first years of primary. Katsuki was the extroverted one pulling him along on make believe adventures to emulate a shared love of a comic book character. In fact, it was with Katsuki’s help that he’d weathered his parent’s divorce. He idolized the stronger boy and wished he was Katsuki, not a weak like little nerd... perhaps having his child’s heart broken, really was the reason he swore off ever caring about anyone else again.

Did he just?! Izuku’s eyes pop open when his hand squeeze is returned by a weak one. Katsuki’s eyes are still closed and nothing else seemed unchanged. Perhaps it was just a nervous tremor, they happen sometimes. But no there it is again! Izuku stares down as the weak squeeze slowly turns into a grasp of his hand.

“Katsuki?”

A third squeeze. That meant the man was alert enough to hear and understand! Friend or not, it was the kind of thing to get a neurologist excited! Izuku quickly moved into doctor mode again and starts checking all the stats as well as alerting the nurse on shift.

“Welcome back Mister Bakugou.”

The man squeezes his hand.

“I’m your doctor, Midoriya. You might remember me...”

The man squeezes again and tries to talk, but after being intubated for a long time the throat tends to be dry, sore, and the muscles weakened. All that comes through is so faint it’s barely audible.

“Mister Bakugou, you’ve been unconscious for almost two months now, please try not to talk just yet, everything will be fine.”

But that only makes the man angrier. Furious red eyes flashing, Katsuki grips harder to Izuku’s hand using what little strength he has to try and pull him closer. So, Izuku leans in. “Calm down, it’s gonna...”

“Ma—y...” angry growling noises. “Mar...”

Obviously, the man wasn’t going to stop until he gave in, so Izuku leans in even more until his ear is practically next to Katsuki’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Marry me damnit!!”

Izuku shoots straight up. “What?!” Is the guy serious?! The first words out of his mouth is that?! Wow... Katsuki really hasn’t changed, feisty as ever even after almost dying.

“Pa-pa—per pen!”

“H-hold on, just try to calm down please! I don’t want you to strain your heart!”

Midoriya grabs the chart, flips the paper over to the blank backside, and puts a pen in Katsuki’s hand. He holds it steady as the man scribbled shakily. ‘No waste 2nd chance marry me Deku.’

“Mister Bakugou, this is...”

The man pounds his fist on the bed then scribbles more. ‘Stop call me that! nickname!’

Izuku sighs and squeezes his eyes closed for a second. He hadn’t used that name since primary just like he’d hadn’t heard Deku all these years. “Kacchan. Happy now? I-I can’t just say okay. You—y-you ditched me remember and now you suddenly pop up and expect me to marry you?! Kacchan you almost died, I get it, that’s a scary thing to deal with, but you just need time to process...”

Katsuki writes, ‘Nothin 2 think bout. No more regrets,’ Then he mouths out the rest in a whisper, “I love you Deku.”

Izuku sighs, “I’m not saying yes or no Kacchan. Just get well first okay, then we’ll talk about everything.”

“Fine.” The man closes his eyes again seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He squeezes Katsuki’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning Kacchan.”

When Izuku leaves that evening, he couldn’t help but walk out with a flutter in his chest and a pang in his heart. There really was a lot he still needed to get off his chest, but... he felt the honesty from Katsuki. If his dying regrets had been strong enough to reach him via spiritual mail, and the first thing he wanted to talk about was love, then... ‘take the second chance Izuku.’ Not everyone gets one.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Chasing Tornadoes {2/6}

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly written medical procedural, mild delving into spirituality, language, overbearing egos, graphic descriptions of medical procedures. more warnings to be added. 18+ Generally, like my blog.

A/N: mention of/scenario depicting an anti-vaxxer situation.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

<< Previously ○ Next >>

~

“Read ‘em and weep,” Marcy smacked her winning cards on the food tray for you to see. “Go fish!”

“Again?” you scrunched your nose as you gathered the cards on the tray and placed them onto the deck. “You sure you aren’t cheating?”

Marcy flashed her pearly whites at you through steady breaths. She was certainly enjoying the win, “Years of practice.”

She looked better today, less pasty, just as pale, but better. It was comforting to see her smile.

“One more game?” She asked with keen interest. You could tell she hoped you’d say yes.

“I already broke the rules smuggling this contraband for you,” you shook the cards then sighed, disappointed in the fact you had to let her down, “Besides, you have to rest, little missy.” You put the deck of cards in its box and then sealed it inside a ziplock bag.

“Rest is boring,” she huffed. “It’s all I do anyway.”

After stashing the cards in your lab coat, you tucked the blanket around her, “Well you need to keep up your strength for the transplant.”

An announcement sounded off from the PA speakers outside the room: “Mike Weschler to Observation Three. Mike Weschler to Observation Three.”

As if summoned by the devil, Mike knocked on the door to Marcy’s room. He nudged his head for you to go out, undoubtedly in too much of a rush to go through decontamination.

You held up a finger and mouthed: “One minute.”

Mike tapped his wrist like his watch was on.

You turned your attention back to Marcy, “I’ve gotta get back out there, but if you need anything...”

Marcy breathed shallow, turning on her side to stare at the wall, “I know.”

Quietly, you walked away, feeling there was nothing more you could say. You tapped the sanitiser dispenser and worked the clear gel all over your hands once you left the sealed room.

Mike shoved his hands in his white coat, “You got a sec?”

“Hey to you too,” you folded your arms. “What is it?”

“Kids,” Mike’s eyes went large as if he’d seen a ghost, a comical shudder followed suit.

You rolled your eyes, “Lead the way.”

 The hospital was calmer the day after the tornado struck. Still buzzing with adrenaline-fuelled fellows and tired residents, only now there were more white coats around. More senior staff relieved the stressful work load. Their presence had helped ease the minds of the younger staff members, allowing them more moments to sneak up to the roof for a smoke or time to themselves.

Even though the rooms were as full as the day the tornado struck, the brunt of the more serious cases were moved to the hospital in the town over.

Mike’s hair was dishevelled, a sign of poor sleep.

“Here we are,” he opened the door to Observation Three and waited for you to enter first before grabbing a clipboard.

There was a family of four all huddled together. Of the two children, the oldest –a teenager by the looks of it– was hunching over the edge of the examination bed. The mother was busying herself by wiping down every surface with disinfectant wipes. The father was less on edge.

“Hello, I’m Dr Mike Weschler, this here is my colleague,” Mike droned with no emotion in his voice. He flipped through the clipboard quickly before clearing his throat, not bothering to look up. “Persistent headache,” he mumbled to himself. Then he grabbed his pen and started filling in the form, “Any other symptoms?”

The father leaned closer, as if his voice would take less time to reach Mike if he closed in their distance. “He’s had a fever, and yesterday he threw up twice.”

“Did you try Paracetamol or Ibuprofen for the fever?” Mike said.

The mother eyed him coldly, “We gave him cold medicine, didn’t work. That’s why we’re here.”

Mike scratched his nose, picking up on the mother’s condescending tone. The nib of his pen pressing into the paper harder. The scratching noise of his writing more pronounced.

“What’s our patient’s name?” You interjected as you looked over the teenager’s features and instantly noticed the redness around his eyes, pale skin and shiny forehead. Though that last observation could simply be a dermatological issue like oily skin.

The teenager stayed silent, waiting for one of his parent’s to answer.

“His name’s Noah,” the mother said, a seriousness to her demeanour. From her attire, you assumed she’d be an academic or a teacher.

“Hello, Noah. I’m Dr Y/N. Do you mind if I take a look?”

He shook his head.

An introvert, you thought. You could relate.

You felt under his jaw for any swelling. Then you tilted his head side to side. He winced.

“Stiff?” You asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” He answered.

“Anyone you know exhibiting similar symptoms –maybe from school or around–?” Mike asked the room.

“Not that we know of,” the mother replied.

Mike inhaled, “Go anywhere outside your usual routine?”

The mother spoke more sharply, “No.”

You fished out your otoscope and looked into his ears. You sighed in thought. “We’re going to have to run bloodwork, check for cultures.”

The father stammered, “Y-you don’t think it’s…meningitis do you?”

Mike answered matter-of-factly, “Fever, headache and neck stiffness. It is a possibility.”

You put on your soft, calming voice, “But, it could also be a common cold. We’ll know more once the tests come back.”

The mother shuffled on her feet, nose high in the air, “And how long do we have to wait?” She wasn’t comfortable in the hospital.

Mike held the clipboard behind his back and plastered on a straight-lined smile, “I’ll get right on it.”

“Excuse us,” you dragged Mike out of the room by his lanyard, discretely. When you were both out of earshot you gave him a tongue lashing. “Show a bit more empathy, Mike. Those parents are probably worried sick.”

“It’s always the parents,” Mike scoffed. “Ironically, when I told my dad I was going into medicine, he suggested paediatrics,” He worked his jaw till it turned red.

Suddenly, Stephen appeared from behind a corner, hands in his pockets, seemingly with nothing to do. He picked up his pace when he saw you.

The clipboard was snatched out of Mike’s hands. Stephen read over the notes and asked: “Have you ordered a blood workup?”

Mike sighed, “It’s on my to-do list.”

“Must be a long list,” Stephen condescended.

“Longer than yours, by the looks of it,” Mike send behind clenched teeth.

Stephen rose a brow and tilted his head to the side. He handed the clipboard back.

The air between then was as prickly as the first time they’d met. Mike was trying his hardest to keep things civil between them. Stephen liked pushing that particular envelope. You imagined it gave him something to occupy his time. Being referee was going to grow old very quick. You could feel it.

Thankfully, Arlene jogged up to just in time to shift the mood. She handed you a tablet, “Hey…Uh, Dr Weisz put me in charge of doing the drive roster. I need at least two senior medical staff to supervise. I asked Dr Sanje and Dr Cho, but they’re swamped.”

 Mike groaned, “Nope, I’ve had enough of kids for today.” He walked away.

“Mike, where are you going?” You called after him

He raised the clipboard in the air, “To exercise my empathetic muscles.”

“Drive?” Stephen looked over at Arlene, his height and hooded gaze made her wring her wrists anxiously.

Her voice went several octaves softer, “F-flu sh-shots. The hospital sends out a van to the school district each season.”

“Wow, you really do that?” Stephen sounded surprised. “And you guys sign up for this?”

You signed two names on the roster, “You’re not at Met Gen anymore, Stephen. We do things differently here.”

Arlene accepted the tablet with a nod and hurried on her way. You turned to Stephen and asked: “Do you have any patients?”

“Not many in need of brain surgery here,” he sounded almost wistful.

“Good,” you smirked. A mischievous twinkle in your eye. “How are you with kids?”

You started heading down the hallway.

“Terrible,” Stephen followed, looking particularly perplexed by the question. “Why?”

You held back your need to laugh.

 “So this is why you asked,” Stephen folded his hands over his chest, looking down at you as though you were the devil himself. He wasn’t at all thrilled about the fact you had dragged him away from the hospital to give out flu shots at a school.

“The alternative would’ve been babysitting,” you poked fun at him. “And my Spike has a tendency to bite strange men.”

“You have a kid?” Stephen was taken aback.

You bit back a laugh, letting Stephen do a little mental gymnastics as you walked away.

He was ridged and out of his element around the kids. It was the first time his larger than life personality seemed grounded, awkward. You loved every moment of it.

“This is a seasonal occurrence?” Stephen asked with a hint of exasperation in his tone.

The two of you were seated on a bench in the cafeteria while you waited for the other Fellows and Interns to clear up the equipment. A small juice box was held between Stephen’s palms. His long fingers appeared cartoonishly large holding the small juice box.

“What Met Gen never ask you to give out shots?” you asked rhetorically.

His brow had been furrowed the entire time, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You popped the lid off your yoghurt drink.

“Work here. Live here,” He shook his head, confounded by it all. “All those years of medical training to wind up here? In a town that’s so…predictable?”

You let out a slow breath, feeling somewhat insulted. “I used to work in the city. I was raised in the city, actually.”

“And you left, willingly?” Stephen guffawed.

“When I first got here, Dr Weisz said that this wasn’t a place for those who wanted to make a name for themselves –to spread their wings. She told me this is where we perch,” you took a long gulp of your drink.

Stephen ruffled his professionally styled hair, “And what’s that supposed to mean? That this is where your career comes to die?”

“That this isn’t a place that puts ambition before practice. Not everyone in this field is in it for the fame.” Your words came off accusatory.  

Stephen picked up on the fact he had offended you. You closed the lid on your drink a little too tight. The ridges of the cap burning your palm. Stephen didn’t apologise, he just looked elsewhere as if pondering life’s mysteries. That annoyed you even further.

What did Christine see in him? You wondered.

“Help!” A teacher burst into the cafeteria in a panic, arm pointing behind her. “Earl–one of our staff members–he just collapsed!”

You and Stephen shot up, taking an emergency kit with you.

 The man, Earl, was lying on the ground, unresponsive.

“Any medical history we should be aware of?” you asked the woman who led you to Earl.

“I- N-n… I don’t…” She shook.

Stephen got to him before you did. He checked his respiratory rate and pulse like it was second nature, counting the beats with the ticking of the second’s hand on his expensive watch.

“Unresponsive,” Stephen said. “Get the tube, I’ll begin chest compressions.”

You looked over at the unresponsive man, methodically weighing the options. The amount of time it would take you to unpack the tube, get it into his airways, attach the pump and begin to force air into his airways… You didn’t linger on it, it was best to get him breathing now.

Without warning, you leaned over, pinched the man’s nose and began mouth to mouth.

Stephen lost his cool, “What are you--?”

“Begin chest compressions,” you ordered, ignoring Stephen’s glare.

The two of you worked together, no need for extra words. In tandem, you were like a muscle unit. When you contracted he relaxed. And vice versa.

Finally, after more compressions than you would’ve liked to wait through, Earl coughed and groaned to consciousness.

“Wha- happ’n’d?” Earl slurred his words.

“Welcome back,” you flopped back onto the floor, wiping sweat from your brow. “Come on, buddy. You’re coming with us to get a check-up.”

The grey haired man gave no fuss, he got up on wobbly feet, aided by Stephen and said: “Yes, ma’am.”

 A beeping sound went off as you helped Earl into the back of an ambulance. Stephen had been uncharacteristically quiet since the whole thing went down. You chalked it up to wounded pride.

The car ride had been uncomfortable. Neither of you said a word to one another. Even if it was wounded pride, he was blowing things way out of proportion.

You wheeled Earl into the hospital with the help of the paramedics, “Sixty-five-year-old male, collapsed from unknown reasons. Slurred speech and incoherence. Had to perform CPR on sight.”

“Earl?” Jan recognised the man.

You walked over to her desk, “Know him?”

“Yeah, my son’s history teacher. Think he has a heart problem,” Jan said.

“Possible heart failure!” You shouted after the residents. One of them nodded in response.

“Why’s he so sour?” Jan looked over at Stephen.

“That’s what I wanna know,” you huffed. 

You pulled Stephen aside.

“What’s the matter with you?” you whispered.

He flexed his jaw muscles, eyes growing smaller and he leaned down to speak in a careful tone, “I specifically told you to use the tube.”

“It would have taken too long,” you protested.

“Do you know why I specifically asked you to use the tube?”

You bit your lip, “No, why?”

“Because of Mike’s patient. He’s a teenage kid exhibiting symptoms of either bacterial or viral infection, possibly contagious. There’s a high chance he goes to that school. You could have exposed yourself to a contagion,” he made sure to stress his words so they fell like bricks rather than cards. “But then again, what do I know, since I’m just in it for the fame. Right?”

He was right. Damn him, but he was right. You had thought only of the patient, not the environment.

You couldn’t find anything else to say. Stephen pinched his nose bridge and strode away. The temple on his forehead was throbbing.

And then the second wave hit as soon as you walked into the main wing.

“Do you know how irresponsible this is? It’s not just your kids that are put at risk by this,” Mike held his hands on his hips, stance wide. He was in a heated conversation with the parents from earlier. Noah’s parents.

Stephen caught wind of the commotion and butted in, “What’s the issue?–Observation Three, isn’t it?–I’m guessing you got the tests back?”

“Sure did,” Mike sucked in air through his teeth and handed the chart to Stephen.

“Type B…” Stephen sounded worried. “Why wasn’t he immunised?”

“They chose not to,” Mike waved his hand at the parents.

You were about to play referee again, only this time it seemed Stephen and Mike were both on the same offensive team while the parents held their defensive position.

Stephen straightened his back and somehow he appeared taller, intimidating. His professional face was on, and he instantly began barking orders, “Mike, there’s a patient we just brought in, elderly man, mid 60’s, possible heart condition. Make sure they run a blood screen on him too in case this isn’t an isolated incident. Has the CDC been informed?”

“Dr Weisz is making that call now,” Mike sounded defeated.

“Make sure the kid gets a chest x-ray and do cultures for the parents and younger sibling too. Oh, and inform the school,” Stephen grabbed your elbow and led you away from the crowd. “You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“An isolation unite. Noah tested positive for Influenza B.”

You swallowed.

 The testing took a few hours and four Sudoku games before your results came back. Stephen walked into your isolated unit without taking the necessary precautions.

It was good news then.

You sighed in relief.

Stephen hadn’t cooled off yet.

“Lab work came back negative,” Stephen kept both hands in his pockets. “Turns out Earl had a pacemaker installed a year ago. It’s been giving him some trouble for a while. He didn’t come in due to insurance issues.”

“And Noah?” you asked.

“Antibiotics seem to be working. Caught it early enough. He’ll be fine. School only had one other case to report.”¨

There was a beat of silence. Then you decided to bite the bullet, guilt gnawing at your gut.

“Listen, Strange, I wanted to app—”

“You should get some rest,” Stephen cut you short.

You weren’t going to leave until you said your piece. Otherwise you’d toss and turn all night, “But first let me—”

He was avoiding your gaze, “I should go and check on Earl.”

“Stephen!”

He stopped.

You realised, just then, that that was the first time you’d called him by his first name. It felt…personal. No longer simply professional.

He turned to look at you, slowly.

“I—I’m sorr—”

“I was wrong,” he said suddenly. “This town. It’s not as predictable as I thought. It appears there are still some things that can surprise me.”

Did Strange –Stephen! – Just admit he was wrong?

You were stunned, pleasantly so.

Before you could think to say something else, he was gone.

 To be continued...

[greencoded]

        ———       ❛       HEY ,  MY  LITTLE  RAGER  TEENAGER ,                                                           I’VE  MISSED  YOU  AROUND .       ❜

(  triggers  :  illness ,  death  ,  abuse.  ) (  beast  boy  ( 2014 ),  edited  ©  )

       —    quick  stats  :

full  name  :  garfield  mark  logan nicknames  :  gar ( preferred ) age  :  twenty - two  (  22  ) gender  &  pronouns  :  cisgendered  man  /  he  &  him  birthday  :  november  sixteenth  (  11 / 16 / 1997  ) zodiac :  scorpio  romantic  /  sexual  orientation  :  biromantic  &  bisexual   fandom  :  dc comics  /  teen  titans  (  2003 - 2006  ) occupation  :  dog - walker  

(  SCROLL  TO  THE  BOTTOM  FOR  PLOTTING  IDEAS  !  )

        —     memory  (  not  his  last  canon  memory  ) :

    ❛       — -    sweet  sounds  of  childish  innocence  spilled  from  your  lips,  arms  out  stretched  as  your  ran  around  your  parents,  finger - tips  brushing  the  soft  greenery  that  surrounded  the  trio.  though,  it  hadn’t  lasted  long  as  you  heard  your  father  call  your  name,  grabbing  your  arm,  scolding  you  for  being  such  a  distraction.  with  an  apology,  you  plopped  down  on  the  ground,  your  beige  shorts  now  being  rolled  between  your  fingers.  nibbling  at  the  inside  of  your  cheek,  you  parted  your  chapped  lips,  almost  as  if  to  say  something.  the  simple  fear  of  getting  scolded  once  again  held  the  question  in  your  throat,  deflating  once  again.  maybe  it  was  better  to  just  keep  your  mouth  shut,  wait  until  you  all  went  home.

   ❛       — -     the  hours  passed  and  passed  as  the  sweat  ran  down  your  forehead,  silently  suffering  in  the  cot  provided  to  you  by  your  parents.  god,  your  parents.   don’t  wake  them,  you  thought,  don’t  bother  them.  light  flicked  on  as  a  blood - curdling  sob  ripped  from  your  throat,  the  pain  gathering  your  chest. . .  in  your  arms.  for  a  moment,  you  felt  like  you’d  been  cared  for  as  your  father  held  you  and  asked  about  what  you  were  feeling  ;  it  was  just  more  research  wasn’t  it  ?  you  were  officially  part  of  your  dad’s  testing . . .  a  part  of  his  project.

  ❛       — -     with  a  sharp  pain  to  your  abdomen ,  the  chilling  sweats  stopped ,  but  the  pain  had  just  begun  as  your  felt  your  bones  begin  to  ache .  your  blood  temperature  rising  beneath  sun - kissed  skin .  blinking  awake ,  you  watched  as  your  fingers  looked  a  sickly  green  color ,  watching  the  color  run  up  your  arm  as  if  your  arm  was  made  out  of  paper  and  a  child  had  run  through  it  with  a  marker .  it  took  the  child  only  a  second  to  sit  up,  dull  nails  itching  and  scratching  at  the  skin  on  his  arms  as  if  the  green  hue  he  could  simply  rip  off  with  enough  effort .  no ,  no ,  no  ! 

(  there  should  be  a  gif  here  but  i  hated  all  of  the  ones  i  made.  imagine  a  scared,  sad  green  boy  !  )

 ❛       — -     sharp  canine  teeth  brushed  against  your  soft  bottom  lip  ,  not  understanding  any  second  of  what  had  been  happening  to  you  .  you  didn’t  want  this  ,  you  wanted  to  go  back  and  run  around  in  the  grass .  you’d  rather  be  scolded  by  your  parents  instead  of  this .  whatever  this  was .  you  wanted  to  be  normal. . .  not  whatever  you  are  now .  this  monster. . .   this  BEAST.

      —    alternate  san  francisco  bay  area ,  titans  tower  :

     — -     garfield  logan  works  for  the  titans  group ,  a  group  of  heroes  that  help  protect  california , operating  out  of  san  francisco .  and  as  the  resident  comic  relief  in  the  group ,  seriousness  is  not  something  he  ever  liked .  while  he  grew  up  with  two  parents  who  focused  on  their  science ,  it  never  really  rubbed  of  on  garfield .  at  least ,  not  the  way  they  wanted  it  to .  obviously  fate  had  a very  different  plan  for  the  logan  family.

      — -     around  the  age  of  eight ,  garfield  had  contracted  a  very  serious  illness ,  sakutia ,  which  is  likely  to  cause  death  in  two  hours  to  everyone  and  everything  but  the  african  green  monkey .  while  it  would’ve  killed  him,  his  father  decided  to  inject  him  with  and  antivenom  to  make  sure  he  lived.  though,  as  a  result,  the  illness  rewrote  his  genetic  code,  therefor  giving  him  green  skin,  green  eyes  and  green  hair.  along  with  pointed,  elf - like  ears  and  a  pair  of  sharp  canine  teeth.  along  with  the  physical  changes,  he  was  able  to  morph  into  any  animal  in  the  animal  kingdom.  though,  he  favors  changing  into  household  pets  (  dogs,  cats,  lizards,  snakes  and  the  occasional  guinea  pig / hamster ) .

       — -     the  torment  of  his  father  and  mother’s  abuse  (  mostly  verbal ,  scolding  him  for  giving  himself  a  virus  he  never  intended  to  have ,  calling  him  an  embarrassment ,  etc. )  led  him  to  becoming  a  reclusive  person  until  joining  the  doom  patrol ,  though  ,  shortly  after  he’d  heard  about  his  parents  boating  accident  which  contributed  to  their  death .  soon  enough ,  he  left  the  doom  patrol  and  joined  the  teen  titans ,  changing  his  reclusive  personality  to  being  the  comedic  value  that  the  titans  needed .  using  jokes  and  comedy  to  cope  with  the  death  of  his  parents  and  the  abuse  dealt  to  him  at  a  young  age.  now  a  valued  member  of  the  titans ,  garfield  logan ,  (  aka  BEAST  BOY  )  now  felt  like  he  had  a  place  to  call  home .  you  can  read  more  about  him  HERE  &  HERE ,  since  i’m  mixing  both  canons  into  one .

     —    alucard,  pennsylvania ,  present  day  :

     — -     if  you  haven’t  heard  of  garfield  logan ,  then  you’ve  definitely  HEARD  garfield  logan .  with  a  voice  that  could  burst  eardrums  if  you  got  too  close .  as  the  only  child  and  son  of  a  biology  professor  and  an  animal  biologist  ,  he  was  was  always  seen  a  somewhat  of  a  disappointment  through  the  eyes  of  his  parents.  both  of  them  taking  turns  and  asking  if  he’d  decided  to  go  to  college  yet  ,  if  he  knew  what  he  wanted  to  do  with  his  life .  and  the  answer  was  always  no .  much  to  the  dismay  of  his  parents .  and  while  it  break  his  heart  to  have  parents  that  didn’t  support  you  choice  to  skip  school  altogether  ,  it  was  simple  to  hide  behind  the  veil  of  slacker  friends  who  enjoyed  your  jokes .  it  was  easier  to  fake  a  smile  than  it  was  to  give  everyone  a  real  frown .

      — -     garfield  lives  comfortably  on  his  own ,  barely  making  rent  for  his  very  run  down ,  one  bedroom ,  open  living ,  studio  apartment .  working  as  a  dog  walker  doesn’t  as  much  money  as  he  hoped .  but  he  knows  walking  the  dogs  of  the  more  wealthy  people  in  PA  would  get  him  the  money  and  tips  he  needed .  not  to  mention ,  he’s  a  sucker  for  animals . 

     — -     to  make  a  long  story  short ,  garfield  it  quite  literally  that  dumb  ,  skater  kid  you  see  telling  dumb  jokes  with  his  hat  on  backwards .  he’s  got  a  heart  of  gold  and  can  be  a  little  dumb  sometimes .  but  it’s�� always  with  good  intent .  a  total  sweetheart ,  but  will  rip  you  to  shreds  if  you  mess  with  someone  he  loves.  is  a  giant  mess  and  totally  not  ashamed  of  it  at  all .  will  do  everything  in  his  power  to  make  you  smile  !  just  a  goofy  boy  with  the  best  intentions  and  is  here  to  provide  you  with  some  sunshine.

    —   plot  ideas  !  :

001.  you  know  what  gar  needs  ?  more  friends.  specifically,  a  PLATONIC  SOULMATE.  by  that,  i  mean,  someone  who  has  so  many  things  in  common,  they’re  practically  the  same  person.  would  be  sick  if  they  were  one  of  his  skater  friends,  but  definitely  not  necessary.  don’t  get  annoyed  with  him  and  love  and  support  the  decisions  he  makes... even  if  they’re  dumb. 

002.  gar  absolutely  loves  being  able  to  annoy  people  to  no  end.  he  adores  being  able  to  make  people  smile  and  loves  making  people  angry  a  little  more.  so,  someone  who  could  get  annoyed  with  his  very  happy,  silly  and  goofy  demeanor  would  be  amazing  !  he  will  constantly  tell  you  childish  jokes  about  poop  and  tell  you  to  spell  ICUP...  but,  i  promise  he  loves  you.  and  maybe  you  keep  him  around  because  you  secretly  love  it  and  he  makes  you  smile  !

003.  please,  i  need  someone  to  simply  despise  gar.  get  mad  at  him,  make  him  cry,  ask  him  how’s  he’s  so  happy  being  a  failure  and  not  doing  something  good  like  his  parents.  if  your  muse  is  kind  of an  asshole,  this  is  perfect.  i  just  know  not  everyone  is  going  to  like  him  and  i  thrive  on  enemy  plots  !

[the-coconut-asado]

Our Golden Girl’s Kitchen

A couple of years back, my cousin Doro announced she was going to publish a book of our grandmother’s recipes. It set all the cousins off on an odyssey of frenzied WhatsApps swapping memories, and in my case a mad dash to storage to find yet another of mum’s old scrapbooks, stuffed with fragments of recipes typed up on that onion-skin paper of the Mad Men era. 

Slowly but surely, recipes surfaced for Granny’s steak and kidney pudding (to this day, the name of our family WhatsApp group), tallarines (fettuccine by any other name) and more cakes and tarts than a whole series of Masterchef pressure tests.  

But Doro’s job was made much easier by someone else who had kept Granny’s legacy alive all these years. The person who, while Granny was a distant memory for many of us, was the biggest influence on our lives. At the end of the book, Doro wrote a dedication to her: “ Auntie Joan, I remember you, sometime before Christmas, making us stir the plum pudding and saying “don’t forget to make a wish!”; the chicken pie or Irish stew with dumplings you prepared when I used to come for lunch after university classes; the plum ice cream you always had in your “ancient” fridge and the smell of scones and cake on our birthdays.’

Last week, Auntie Joan died. 99 years of love, wisdom and many a raised eyebrow at each of us at one time or another. She had a delicious smile that hinted at secrets she might share with you some day, and even up to her mid-nineties kept a ramrod straight back, figure to die for and effortless elegance that prompted a 28 year old male friend to comment at my wedding that she was the only 68 year old he had ever fancied.Cheeky, but at the same time, kudos. 

If I’ve made her sound  like a warm embrace of a woman, she was. She was also a ninja. For most of her working life, Auntie Joan  - Joan Nolan MBE -  was Vice Consul at the British Embassy in Rosario, and later in Buenos Aires. She started volunteering there during the war, and eventually they started to pay her (nice of them), then promote her. 

This had upsides - her influence to help others (a guiding principle of her life), the opportunity to travel, and the people she met. She once told me of an Embassy cocktail party on board a ship attended by Eva and Juan Peron. She had little time for Peron, but was a little flattered when having started to leave down the gangplank he  abruptly turned back, sought Auntie Joan out, kissed her hand and apologised profusely for not having said goodbye. Manners counted for a lot with her, so the apparently off-hand Eva was barely mentioned in despatches.  

Her job also had downsides: held at gunpoint more than once, and in the constant company of a bodyguard after her boss was kidnapped (the inspiration for Graham Greene’s novel The Honorary Consul). One day a masked gang raided the embassy, rounded up all the staff, tied them up and locked them in the bathroom. But the ringleader treated Joan with weird courtesy, politely requested she enter the bathroom but left her unbound. Joan said afterwards: “ I think that man knew me. And if I ever see those eyes again, I will know who he was.” She kept looking but never did, but she did show us the hail of bullet holes the gang had let off at the outer wall of the embassy before they left. 

30 years on, at 85, clearly feeling she had been down this road before, she wrestled an armed thief trying to steal her friend’s car. ‘ Dear, I knew the gun was a toy’, she said breezily when I had my WTAF! Moment on a phone call with her.

Though all this time she looked after my grandparents and my great aunt until their deaths - pretty thankless and back-breakingly hard as they all survived to their nineties and in my great aunt’s case to 101 - as well as her husband Stanley who died when she was still young. Yet she still made time to feed, nurture and look out for her nieces and nephews as they travelled through her flat en route to school, college and work - and then her grand nieces and nephews as they repeated the cycle. 

Living in London, I didn’t see as much of Joan as my cousins, but felt just as close to her thanks to her copious letters. And it was her trips to London I remember most. Wafting glamorously into Gatwick in her boucle red overcoat, nipping up to Newcastle for the day to have lunch with a friend (when Dad retold the story, he always added, untruthfully,  ‘And the friend wasn’t even at home!”), leaving a cloud of delicate rose scent in her wake, a perfume that always reminded me of her apartment in Rosario. A bit like Buenos Aires itself, Auntie Joan was an evocation of the best bits of 1930’s Europe. 

And despite eating like a mouse in her own home - spreading her morning toast with what looked and tasted like wallpaper paste but was actually zero cholesterol cream cheese - her kitchen with its pots and pans, scoured and gleaming  within an inch of their lives, was in a constant hiatus of puddings, pies and roasts for the family as well as that iconic plum pudding at Christmas. And when we took her out to eat the appetite she kept hidden at home came tumbling out. I once witnessed her demolish a whole sea bass, noodles and a quarter of a peking duck when we took her to a restaurant in Chinatown. Unlike the rest of my family, she was unafraid of spice and heat. 

Serene, always; sassy,  sometimes. After all, Joan’s favourite TV programme when she came to visit us in London was The Golden Girls. In a life where everyone depended on her, she was someone comfortable with not needing to depend on anyone else - until old age meant she had to. I used to smile to myself when, in later years, she would end all of her stories with ‘And they said, “Joan, you are the ONLY one who could have done/ solved/ sorted/ this’’. And yet, if we don’t tell the world how talented, determined and capable we are - who else is going to? #thiswomancould

So here are two dishes that we all eat thanks to Auntie Joan - her plum ice cream (with some added spice from cinnamon) and her Spanish Cake, a delicate and sweet treat that evokes  those high teas that are still a family tradition. And finally, a dish that evokes the memory of lemon chicken, the dish that she and my daughter Lara would love to make together. 

Hasta luego, nuestra querida tia. We were so lucky to have you as long as we did. 

Plum ice cream

I have never eaten plum ice cream other than at Auntie Joan’s house and I have no idea why it isn’t a popular flavour commercially. My version only tweaks her original recipe - two egg whites rather than one, a stick of cinnamon and the seeds of a vanilla pod added to the plums as they poach. The brilliant thing about this ice cream - aside from it’s taste of autumn, log fires and sticky crumble - is that you don’t need an ice cream maker.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

300g red-skinned plums

175g caster sugar

¾ cup water

1 cinnamon stick

Seeds from one vanilla pod

Juice of half a lemon

300g double cream

2 egg whites

How to make

Seed and quarter the plums and pop into a pan with the sugar, cinnamon stick, vanilla seeds and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and continue to simmer on a low heat until the plums are soft and the liquid has become syrupy. Turn off the heat and leave for another 10 minutes - you really want the spices and the red skin of the plums to seep into the syrup. 

Turn the plums into a sieve and extract as much syrup and pulp as you can into a clean bowl, using the back of a spatula. Cover and chill for at least an hour. 

In two separate bowls, whisk the cream until it forms soft peaks (be careful not to overbeat or it will turn into butter) and the egg whites until they form firm peaks. 

Alternate folding the cream, then the egg whites, then cream, then egg whites into the plum pulp. 

Pour into a freezer container - or just use an oblong cake tin, cover and freeze overnight. Remember to take out of the fridge for 15 mins before serving. 

Spanish Cake

This is the perfect cake to eat with a cup of tea or coffee. Light and delicate from texture to flavour. Simple dust of icing sugar on the top and you are good to go. Auntie Joan’s original recipe as typed - which features in Doro’s book - is as spare with detail as one of Bake Off’s technical challenges. Fortunately I featured it in a column I wrote for Choice magazine a few years ago, so  have filled in the gaps. Makes 12-16 squares. 

Ingredients

125g melted unsalted butter

200g caster sugar

2 eggs, separated

125ml milk

600g plain flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp mixed spice

Icing sugar to serve

How to Make

Heat the oven to 180C. Grease a 20cm square cake tin and line with baking parchment.

Whisk the sugar with the butter until thick and pale. Add the egg yolks and continue to beat for a couple of minutes. 

Add the milk and beat again. Finally, sift in the flour, baking powder and spices and mix gently until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the cake batter. 

Pour the batter into the cake tin and bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes. The cake is ready when the top is golden and a toothpick or sate stick inserted into the middle comes out clean. 

Cool in the cake tine for 5 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack to cool. When cool, dust the surface with icing sugar, cut into squares and serve. 

Quick Chicken with kale, haricots and caramelised lemon

Auntie Joan loved chicken, and when we visited Buenos Aires when my daughter Lara was little, she and Auntie Joan would love to make lemon chicken together. Am sure she would have loved this flavour-packed little number, courtesy of Alison Roman in the NY Times. 

Ingredients

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 shallot, peeled and cut into 8

6-8 chicken thighs

1 400g can of haricot or cannellini beans

1 bunch kale, leaves only (discard ribs)

1tblspn sunflower oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil for dressing

How to make

Toss the lemon slices and shallots in a small bowl and season. 

Heat a large frying pan or skillet, add the sunflower oil, then add the chicken, skin side down. Press the chicken down with a spatula to ensure the maximum surface gets nice and brown. Cook for 5-8 minutes, then cook on the other side for a further 8-10  minutes until cooked through and the chicken skin is nice and crispy. Transfer the chicken to a plate, leaving the fat in the pan. 

Add the lemon and shallot to the hot pan - stand pack as it will probably spit and sizzle. Cook, stirring gently, until the lemon has started to caramelise - about 3-5 minutes. 

Add the drained beans to the pan and season. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans soak up that caramelised chicken fat - about 4 mins. Working in batches, add kale and toss to wilt, seasoning again as you go. 

Return the chicken to the pan, along with the juices that have collected on the plate, and cook for a couple of minutes more. 

Serve, drizzled with a little olive oil, and accompany with some crusty bread. 

[s-trawberryv-eins]

An Introduction

(NOT MY GIF)

AN INTRODUCTION TO CAROLINE STARK

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! So, after months of waffling about wanting to write, I finally sat down and did it. It’s pretty complicated, so it’s pretty important to read this one before you start with anything else. I’ve created an original character, who lives in a slightly alternative universe to the one we were left with after Endgame. I’d like to state that none of my personal changes are reflections of my opinions of what DID happen, but in order to build her as I wish, some things needed to be slightly different.

1)    Steve didn’t go back to Peggy after he returned the stones

2)    Hulk and Banner didn't become one, they’re still two separate beings

3)    Natasha was brought back by Steve as he was able to return the soul stone in return for her life

4)    The compound was rebuilt after the Battle of Earth. There is a memorial for Tony where he died.

A few other things to note:

1)    My first piece of writing will be a background that is applicable to all of the fics. However, many of them will be stand alone, unless I state otherwise. I’ll be creating a masterlist which will lay everything out very clearly, but please feel free to ask if you need to 😊

 Thanks for reading the boring stuff. Everything will be up soon!

 Summary: An introduction to the secret Stark sister. Who is she? Why was she kept a secret? And what happens when everybody finds out?

 Warnings: Abandonment, injury, PTSD, death, blood, but there's plenty of soft love too.

 Word count: 1921

 SUMMER 2004

MALIBU, CALIFORNIA

"Yes, yes, two seconds!" Tottering over to the front door of her bosses lavish Malibu home, Pepper Potts grumbled under her breath, annoyed by the fact that she was the one answering the incessant knocking. "I’m not your maid, Tony!” Sighing, she unlocked the door and prepared to shoo whichever reporter, play bunny, or cold caller had decided that 10 PM on a Tuesday evening was a good time to show up. However, she was greeted with something entirely unexpected.

“Oh! Hello! Are you lost? Where’s your Mom?" In front of Miss Potts stood a small girl, 7 years of age, a sparkly pink bag held tightly in her little hand. Pepper greeted the young girl with the cheeriest voice she could manage in her surprise. Sticking her head out of the door, she looked around, but with a furrowed brow she realised that they were alone. There wasn’t another figure or car in sight.

“Momma said I had to give you this." In her tiny outstretched hand was a thick envelope. "She said my Daddy lives here.” The look on her face told Pepper that she knew exactly what had happened. Even as young as she was, she had an obvious maturity that would break hearts. Her mother had abandoned her, and the girl understood that entirely.

With eyes so wide it hurt, Pepper took the envelope, peeking inside to find a passport, a letter, and a photograph of Mr Stark and a woman. The girls' mother, Pepper presumed. Shock was written into the PAs face, but she forced a smile all the same. After a quick look at the passport, she ushered the child inside.

"Come on in, Caroline. We’ll sort you out, okay?”

 LATE 2008

NEW YORK

A series of loud bangs on her bedroom door pulled Caroline from her daydream. Not even having a chance to respond, the door burst open and three young girls practically fell into her room.

“Turn the TV on!"

“As if you weren’t famous enough!"

“Did you know? You must've known?!"

Wide eyed and clueless as to what her friends were talking about, Caroline blinked back gormlessly as Amelie grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

“What channel?“

“Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" The 11-year-old spoke up, and all three heads turned to face her, humour in their eyes as they stated what was seemingly obvious.

“Your dad, Care.” Caroline knew her Father had been in some trouble. Happy had shown up outside the halls of residence, whisking her away immediately. The panic set in as her heart sped up violently. As the girls scrambled through the channels, they froze as a man in a suit appeared on the screen. Caroline's dad. Tony Stark. They watched in awe as he addressed his audience. As his daughter, she'd watched a few press conferences before. They were a bore, however, she couldn't lie.

The TV remote fell from Amelie’s hand as he spoke the four words that changed history.

“I am Iron Man.”

 MAY 2012

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Footage of the Chitauri destroying the very ground she stood on flashed through Caroline’s mind. Gripping Happy’s arm as she sobbed, the 14-year-old girl cried out desperately for her Father. Their relationship had been very rocky for a while. He’d rejected his new responsibility at first, leaving Pepper to parent the girl. He’d even shipped her off to boarding school, where he further pushed away his long-lost child. It wasn’t until Pepper dragged him by the sleeve to the young girl’s dorm room and forced him inside that he’d actually spoken to his daughter. From there, they established a solid relationship. Caroline, of course, fell head over heels for her Father. He could do no wrong in her eyes. That never changed, even as she grew.

Fear wracked her body at the thought of Tony not surviving the battle. Staring at the sky, she prayed and prayed that he return from that giant swirling hole of death that currently dominated New York. When she saw his body fall through the sky, her fear both vanished and increased ten-fold.

-

Later that evening, JARVIS informed her of her Fathers arrival at the beaten-up tower. Racing to find him, she threw her arms around his neck and cried. She cried and cried until she ran out, but she never let go of his hand.

 MAY 2015

NOVI GRAD, SOKOVIA

“Daddy?” Her voice came out a whimper. She felt weak and small.

“Hey baby girl, I’m uh…I’m guessing you’ve seen, right? Yeah, it’s bad, Care.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Listen, baby, I’ve gotta end this. Me and Thor, uh, we think we’ve got a way. A lot of people will die if we don’t do this. You're the best thing, you know?" His voice was soft, even as he continued to fight off robots and save the world. The line grew staticky and Caroline couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from her eyes. "I'm so glad you showed up on my doorstep all those years ago. I’m sorry for taking so long."

“Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye? Daddy you're scaring me!” Her voice was a desperate whimper, and a pain in her chest bloomed violently.

“I love you, Caroline. Remember th-" Horror erupted over her features as the line went dead. Not knowing whether she'd ever see him again, she made her way to New York, her heart dragging painfully behind her.

 NEW YEARS EVE 2015

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Caroline and her Father walked through one of the many laboratories of the new compound. On her 18th birthday the Stark girl was offered a position as a biomechanical engineer for the new era S.H.I.E.L.D. program, built following its collapse in 2014. Taking after her Dad, she had excelled in school, and to the amazement of her new bosses, had landed a glowing recommendation from Iron Man himself. The decision for her to live under a different last name to Tony was one he himself had requested in a bid to keep her safe for as long as he could. She had never really met the other Avengers, and only three other people knew of her existence; Pepper, Happy, and Natasha Romanoff. It was easy enough to hide her identity.

Caroline didn’t mind too much. She could still see her parents as much as she pleased, and it prevented any special treatment from schools and professors. Those around Caroline herself knew; her school friends knew, she didn't want to keep a secret from them, and besides, she didn't know any better when she told them at 8 years old.

“How’re you settling in? Are you sure this isn’t too soon? This is too soon. I’m taking you-“ midway through his rambling, Tony realised his daughter both lived and worked at the compound, rendering his threat useless. "I'll take you somewhere. Details, schmetails."  

“Dad! Calm down! You’re spiralling. I’m fine, I’m settling in just fine! Now come on, I need to meet everyone.” A proud smile graced the young girls features as she tried to rid her rather of any worry. With a sigh, he took his daughters hand in his own and led her to the Avengers quarters. Separating just before they entered the room, Caroline took a shaky breath.

“Folks gather round. This is our new Doc. With Banner MIA," his brows drew together as he spoke, and his gaze fell to the floor for a second before finding Caroline "she’s our go to! This is Caroline. Caroline Lockwood.”  A half smile appeared on his face, the bittersweet moment getting the best of him. After a few brief introductions, the girl bid them goodbye to get ready for one of Tony Starks famous New Year’s Eve parties.

 JUNE 2018

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Pepper sat with her daughter, a blanket around the two of them as they hid. They sat in silence, unable to find the words. Trying to maintain hope when everything around them told them to give up was the hardest battle they'd fought yet. “Momma? We’ll be fine, right? We always win.” Her voice nothing but a whisper in the darkness, she felt her adoptive mothers’ fingers tighten around her own.

“We'll be fine, baby. Your Dad will do what he always does. He'll save us. He'll save everybody.” The sad smile on Caroline's face couldn’t be seen in the dark, but Pepper could tell the moment that it fell. She felt the energy in the air shift. Did they lose? “Baby? Baby what’s wrong?" Placing her soft hands either side of her daughter’s face, she gasped sharply as the blanket fell around them, no longer supported by two bodies. Instead, a dark ash took the place of the youngest Stark.

“I’m sorry, Momma" she choked out before disintegrating completely "I'm sorry.”

Pepper was left alone, covered in heartbreak, grief, and the ashes her child left behind.

OCTOBER 2023

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

"Hey, sweetie. Do you want Mom?" Morgan shook her head and stepped closer to her sister.

“Can you help me? You’re my sister.” With sad, glazed over eyes, Caroline nodded. It's not difficult to sympathise with the two girls. Morgan knew all about her big sister. Stories were told, and pictures were framed in every inch of the house. Morgan idolised her before she’d ever met her. And when, by some miracle, they did meet, it was a few days before their fathers’ funeral. Two days before that, Caroline had been dead.

Dead.

It'd been one hell of a week.

To say the oldest Stark sister walked on eggshells around the younger one would be an understatement. Allowing their relationship to be on Morgan’s terms was the least she could do. The thought that Morgan may reject her completely never left her mind, despite Peppers constant reassurance. “I can braid your hair, if you’d like. Momma taught me when I was a little girl."

-

"Where's Morgan?" Pepper's voice barely registered in Caroline’s brain. She could feel herself drifting further and further away every day. But she didn't have the strength to fight it.

“Happy took her for cheeseburgers.” A hint of smile traced her mouth, but it didn't stick. It never stuck. The bags under her eyes were heavy and dark, and the once rich brown of her eyes seemed to have dulled miserably. After receiving her own private recording from Stark, she felt as if she'd broken completely. Turning to face Pepper, she struggled to continue, her voice hoarse from crying and screaming in the night. "They should be back an-"

“MOMMY SISSY UNCLE HAPPY BOUGHT EXTRA.” Watching the tiny girl stumble through the door, a brown paper bag clutched tightly to her chest, Caroline just stared in awe. Of course, Morgan was too young to really understand what happened. She missed her Daddy, and she knew he wasn’t coming home, but she managed to smile. Her eyes shined bright as ever. The world hadn't tainted her hope, it hadn’t torn away her faith.

It would be so, so easy to just let go. To just give up and fall into the oblivion that called her name. But in doing so, she'd miss even more time with her sister. Watching her eat with a pensive look on her face, clutching on to Pepper and watching all the strangers around her, Caroline made a choice. She could do it for Morgan. She could hold on and keep going.

So, she did.

TAGS:

@bucky-castiel​

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

The work life balance: Maternity Leave (Diary Entry/Long Post)

It’s a huge blur looking back from pregnancy to date, with kiddo being 4 months now. I ended up extending mat leave. I’m now (kinda) determined to start blogging about one of the biggest questions asked about medical training - is there work life balance and what is it like? 

Going to start with the topic of maternity leave. (This will be a personal view - so would love see what other parents in healthcare (or any profession) think about it and what their experiences have been)

A huge eye opener for me was actually watching netflix series: Sex Explained and Explained episode on women (which can be seen here for free). The gender pay gap in our generation is explained incredibly well - and boils down to women taking time off to be primary caregivers for children. I recommend watching those episodes as they’re fun, short and simply but smartly explained.

Image source: https://thenewdaily.com.au/finance/finance-news/2020/01/31/gender-pay-gap-new-low/

Okay. So. Maternity leave is paid parental leave usually given to the primary caregiver. Only one country in the western world that I’m aware of gives significant paternal and maternal leave - Iceland. Everywhere else, only the primary caregiver gets extended parental leave from 3 months up to a year (pay is less if you go beyond 3 months). Most of the time, mom’s are the primary caregivers, whether due to cultural norms or the fact that breastfeeding requires the mom be there most of the time. 

The other parent generally get 1 week to 2 weeks off from the day the kid is delivered. That’s it. Everyone’s reaction to this has been what-in-the-hell. This was devastating for me and my other half - as I needed his support and he would be missing out so much of our baby’s life. 

It also sets us up nicely for the gap to begin, if you watch the netflix series. We both graduate from medical school the same year, but as I take off necessary time from training, he won’t. (Is it stressful being alone with an infant while your other half works full time? Absolutely. It wasn’t as terrifying as I anticipated, it’s doable, but it’s really hard while you and the baby adjust to being alone). 

Image source: Cleveland clinic - also has great parenting advice.

That said, there are friends of me where the parents alternate taking time off, the mom starts off in the first year of life. The Dads often take the 2nd year off. This applies to also medical couples that we know. (If they both have exams, the mom delays her exams one year, the Dad finishes his, then take time off for her to do hers. This is easier said than done, particularly if there’s 2 small kids involved). 

With approaching mat leave with hospital administration, after I found out we were pregnant I wasn’t sure how workforce/admin would react. So, the first thing I did was contact a work colleague who recently had a baby (we were working together while she was pregnant). I asked her how she approached it. 

Generally, you have to have worked within a health service for a year to be entitled to parental leave - that is to say, they cannot fire you and you’re able to retain your job when you return. 

Many people I know take a minimum of 6 months off (less pay than 3 months) and a year. 

While I was pregnant this seemed a long time. Surely I wouldn’t need that much time? Even workforce (they all have small kids) said that I too, will want those 6 months if not a year. They recommended I chat to the other moms in my program. 

They said the same, they thought they’d only need 3 months off (we’re all eager to finish training as women without kids) but were encouraged to start with 6 months. In the end, post kid - they all felt that returning to work after 6 months was too soon, and ended up taking 9 to 12 months. The more senior doctors also suggested a year off. Even my obstetrician (a mom of 4) kept asking if I ever considered a year off. The idea that you don’t want to miss out time with them. From studying paeds in med school, we know full well that those initial years of development are so vital to setting up a foundation for the rest of their lives. 

What everyone consistently said was that work will always be there. Time with your children at a young age won’t be. 

The flip side to this is that not all women necessarily will want to be away from work that long. I thought I would be in that category. 

Post for another day - but your whole brain gets reprogrammed once you become a parent, particularly, a primary caregiver (whether mom or dad). I’ve had friends who’ve cried when parental leave ended as it’s that hard to be away. When you go through the hell of hourly feeds, sleep deprivation etc, the bond goes deeper, you feel that they need you. And at the end of you, you really need them. This wasn’t something that really sunk in for me until suddenly I was near the end of mat leave, and then I realized I wasn’t ready to go back. 

However, I have other friends who chose to go back sooner in part time capacity. They couldn’t afford to take time off. In this career however, it meant that they went onto full formula feeding. It was too hard to keep up with pumping for an infant needs and resident workload. (On a busy day, we hardly have time to eat or use the toilet, I can’t imagine finding time to get to the pump room, get the pump out and sit there for 10-30 mins). I envy them that they returned to work, and their kids seem by comparison to mine - more gentle and malleable in personality (they tolerate daycare pretty well). I think one mom I know managed to keep up with pumping, but she returned to work when her kid was already on solids. 

Image source and also good resource on pumping and returning to work.

Now that I am a parent to a young kid, I do prefer the idea of part time and job sharing. Even though that will mean longer training, less pay (greater gender gap) etc. etc. I do wish that our laws and regulations were less punishing on the other parent. They are antiquated to be blunt. We should be allowed paid parental leave for either gender so that parents can alternate looking after small kids full time at home. 

Ultimately, kids want time with their parents above all else. Even babies - you can buy them a toys and they wouldn’t care about them as much as interacting with you.

That said, I don’t judge those who choose either to be full time at work or full time mom’s. Either will have its rewards and both are hard, requiring sacrifice. I completely understand the draw to both. 

I think it’s a tragedy that different facets of society look down on either full time working moms or stay at home mom’s. I think it’s unfair there is a pay gap and working part time will mean blows to your career progression (even though to put it bluntly, you are working less hours). 

Is there a middle path where you are rewarded for both continuing to work while avoiding being away from your kids most of the working week? 

One answer to having a better juggle is perhaps telehealth in the future. The ability to work at home I think is already life changing in some careers and I can’t imagine how much of a shift it would make in medicine. With Covid19, we’re already seeing a huge shift towards, it’ll be interesting to see how this will evolve further. I’m not saying telehealth should replace face to face medicine, but it should be utilized more. 

Going to try to post at least once or twice a week, if only to maintain some sense of sanity with a 4 month old. 

See you in the reblogs if you have any questions or have your experiences to share.

[lakersworld]

‘My beloved Kobe’: Lower Merion coach Gregg Downer pens essay on Kobe Bryant’s passing.⁣

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My favorite sports moments came during the 20 years of soaking up every second of my idol’s — my hero’s — Lakers career. My beloved Kobe Bryant.⁣

⁣For two decades, I kept West Coast time as Kobe ascended to greatness and perfected what he’d started at Lower Merion. I learned to get by on five hours of sleep while Kobe became the greatest champion and most feared competitor of his generation.⁣

⁣I saw Kobe’s air balls in Utah, his buzzer-beaters, his 81-point game, the rings and near misses. I witnessed his absolute greatness as a player. And I did so with immense pride, recalling the journey we took together to win a state title in Lower Merion, a journey in which he taught me how to win and pushed me to be the best coach I could be.⁣

⁣When asked by some stray reporter for the 50th time if I would ever have another Kobe Bryant, the answer was simple, and it will always be the same: absolutely no way.⁣

The moments we spent together were even more special. I shot free throws with him at the old Forum before practices. I swam and ate a few meals with him at his house overlooking the Pacific. I traveled to games all over the country, including the Finals series against Indiana, Orlando, Boston, and, of course, Philly. We exchanged e-mails about strategy. I worked his basketball camps. I introduced him annually to current Aces players.⁣

⁣And in a private moment, deep in the halls of Lower Merion High School, he became one of the first to know a dream of mine was about to come true. My beautiful wife, Colleen, was pregnant. We stopped in front of Room 225 for an embrace I will never forget. He was so happy for me. And I was so happy he was there.⁣

My father died, at 89, last fall. He also watched 20 years of Kobe’s play — 24, if you include high school — and it helped strengthen the bond between us. Dad would tape the late games and watch them in the morning. If we felt Kobe had an off night, we simply erased the DVR.⁣

Every morning, when I called my dad, most conversations would start with "Did you see what Kobe did last night?” I can’t imagine Dad’s shock when Kobe entered heaven on Jan. 26. I hope they are buddies and watching old game tapes together.⁣

The memorial at Staples was a Mount Rushmore of basketball experiences. If the premise had been different, if the celebration had been for lives present instead of lives past, it would have been the pinnacle of my career.⁣

⁣I’d been looking forward to that moment at next summer’s Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame induction. It would have been a joyous reunion and the moment of a basketball lifetime for a scrawny kid from Media, Pa., who never could have imagined he’d one day coach the NBA’s biggest and brightest star.⁣

⁣At the memorial ceremony, I hugged Kobe’s sisters and parents tight, and the tears never stopped. Vanessa’s speech was one of courage, resilience, and leadership. Although I don’t know her, I was so proud of her. Kobe would have loved her toughness and resolve and would have demanded she fight on for their three other daughters.⁣

With the world hanging on her every word, Vanessa gave a beautiful, intimate remembrance of Kobe and Gianna. Diana Taurasi and Sabrina Ionescu symbolized Kobe’s immense pride and passion in being a #girldad and made it clear that Gianna was developing into another Mamba. They thought that she would one day be in the WNBA. This was not idle speculation. Gianna could have been whatever she wanted to be and had the perfect father to guide her dreams.⁣

⁣I knew before many that Kobe’s real dream was to be the next Michael Jordan. We talked about it often as he developed from age 13 to 17, and you could clearly see it in his mannerisms, his imitations. Michael was a huge part of his identity.⁣

Jordan’s speech was iconic, just like the man himself. With tears pouring down his face, the ever-so-stoic and prideful Jordan — he of the six championship rings Kobe so relentlessly chased — acknowledged that Kobe was his little brother and that Kobe was an amazing player. Kobe had to have been smiling ear to ear from the heavens as his hero validated his greatness and gave him his due. I hope Kobe and Gianna shared that incredible moment.⁣

Most have no idea the work that went into Kobe’s chase of Michael’s acceptance and full respect. And I’m sure Kobe still wants M.J. one-on-one when he eventually joins him in heaven. Michael had better remember to bring his sneakers.⁣

The speeches have ended, but for me the essential question still remains: How do I move forward from this horrific tragedy? I am a teacher, coach, father, and husband. I, like many, am not sure I have the answers right now.⁣

Memories and flashbacks are everywhere at Lower Merion. Ten months each year, six days a week, I coach in the gym Kobe built. He can pop into my head at any moment. One morning, I spontaneously dropped and did 24 push ups for no apparent reason.⁣

Kobe needs his high school coach to be strong. My current players need it. My students need it. I need to continue to affect players and students in a positive way, as I’ve been trying my best to do for 30 years. Kobe needs me to stand tall and sharpen my resolve. The ceremony helped, but I miss my hero immensely.⁣

⁣I have a beautiful 7-year old daughter named Brynn Riley. She is my pride and joy. Every time Kobe saw her, he picked her up and hugged her tight. We smiled ear to ear, as did Brynn. He held her like his own.⁣

The “girl dad” movement Kobe ignited is something that now feels tangible to me. Maybe that’s the lasting connection to Kobe I need. Brynn comes to my games. She alternates between cheerleading and actually helping coach the team. She brings a clipboard. She comes to the film studies and all the pep talks. Her favorite activity after big wins is soaking her dad with water during locker-room parties. She recently made her first basket on a 10-foot hoop and completed two weeks of my summer basketball camp without complaint.⁣

We swim together, have sleepovers by the fireplace, do gymnastics, soccer, and baseball together. And recently, our favorite activity is our own version of backyard NFL football: Eagles vs. Patriots. Much to our delight, the Eagles always win, even if her extra points are a little low off the back fence. We laugh together and cry together through all aspects of life.⁣

⁣Like any parent, I want Brynn to have a great, successful, healthy life. She can be whatever she wants to be, and I want more than anything else to be the girl dad who helps and guides her through the good and bad. Kobe’s love for his girls, his legacy as a father, strengthens me. The bond we shared in raising our daughters is the greatest gift of our relationship. It’s what inspires me most.⁣

My players know I like to choose short phrases and collections of words to motivate and guide us during the season. I am going to focus on three words for my own motivation and peace of mind: courage, resilience, and love. Coaches need a game plan. For the first time since Jan. 26, I feel I have one.⁣

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Gregg Downer as told to Mike Sielski | via Inquirer ⁣

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