#they both get injured a lot so they often visit medic Kei

[wool-string]

[animeangst]

The Flower of the Month

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Tsukishima x Reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Angst

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Cancer, Character death

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 860

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

I jsut wanted to thank you all so much for supporting me! I recently hit 700 followers and just wow! I'm super excited for some stuff I have planned :)

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Extra warning: this fic is pretty heavy

---

You had been with Tsukishima since you both graduated highschool. The two of you did everything together and really just complimented each other in every way. You were both living the dream, your dream jobs, a great apartment. Everything was fantastic and going in the right direction.

That was until you were diagnosed with cancer. It was like your whole world stopped, right at the edge of a cliff. The doctors said they had caught it early, that it was treatable. You just didn’t respond well to the treatment.

At first it was manageable, nothing the two of you couldn’t get past. You still went to work and the two of you made sure to go out together every weekend, just the two of you. Slowly you just kept getting worse, and worse. You had to quit your job and stay home, you couldn’t go out anymore.

That was okay though, or so you told yourself. You had lots of time to read, or play video games. You got to spend all day doing the things you loved to do but didn’t have time for. You got to cook for Kei, you started making dinner every night. Although it was tiring, you loved to do it; until you couldn’t anymore.

You finally had to come to terms with it, and stay in the hospital for long term treatment. The doctors had said you should be hopeful. There were new drugs to try and therapies that showed promise in patients like you. Although you were frustrated, once you got better you could go back to how things were.

That was a year ago. You had been in the hospital for one whole year, and 4 years into your cancer treatment. Tsukishima had visited you every single day, some days he would even bring friends. In a strange way you were embarrassed to be sick in front of the people you knew. Eventually you asked Kei to stop bringing people.

The two of you spent every evening together, and every day Tsukishima would bring you a flower. A single flower that the florist recommended that month. By the time the month was over you had a whole bouquet.

You had kept at least one flower each month and pressed it. In your book you had 12 beautifully pressed flowers that you hoped to frame when you got home. You knew exactly where you wanted to hang them too.

You often thought about things you would do once you were allowed to go home. The doctors had said your condition had started to improve. Tsukishima had even gone so far as to suggest you plan a trip!

Lately that is what you have been doing. Tsukishima would get you books from the library that you could read about places you may want to go. It was so tough to choose, and you hadn’t landed on a place yet.

You were always bouncing ideas off of Kei, seeing his reaction and gauging his interest. The next day he would always have more information on the place you had suggested. You always thought it was cute.

You loved him so much, and you knew he loved you too. You figured it must have been hard for him that you were sick. No one wants their partner to be sick, or injured or anything to be wrong with them.

Once you were all better you would take care of him for a while, take a load off his shoulders. You were going to go on a trip, and start living your life again. You were so excited. It was almost the time that Kei came every day.

A small smile tugged at your lips has you closed your eyes to fall asleep.

---

Tsukishima had just left the florist, he had become well acquainted with him over this past year. This month he had recommended daisies. The florist mentioned they were often sent as get well soon messages. It seemed perfect.

He had gotten you a new book and his flower like always. This was going to be a good month. He knew that you weren’t doing the best but the new medication looked promising like always. Tsukishima just needed to focus on that.

This time will be different, and you will be coming home soon. He had spoken to the doctors about possibly moving you back home with care. Kei knew you would like that. He had planned to bring that up today!

Tsukishima had arrived at the hospital and he went straight to your room like always. He heard doctors and nurses running ahead of him. There was a sound that he wished he would never hear. Without thinking he ran to your room to make sure…

Kei’s eyes landed on your hand, which was dangling limp off of the bed. Nurses bustling around you, and the doctor performing CPR on your unresponsive body.

He couldn’t look away, nor could he do anything to help. This was it. Tsukishima looked at the last daisy in his hand as he heard the heart monitor be turned off and the doctor announced your time of death.

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 1

Prologue | Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: Thank y’all so much for the nice comments on this new series! This picks up shortly after the prologue. I had to hold back a lot for this chapter because pining is not allowed yet - patience😌 I hope you enjoy, and as always feedback is welcome!❤️

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: some mentions of violence, angst (but not the Yearning kind yet)

You’ve just finished getting ready to start the day when you hear three loud knocks at your door. Hurriedly buttoning up your blouse, you go answer it and find Steve standing outside with his hands on his hips.

“Peña’s out of the hospital and back home now,” he informs you.

You briefly remember the scene from a couple days ago. He’d been fine, of course, just bleeding out and unable to stand. A local helped you call an ambulance while you got Peña upright and put pressure to the wound. Much like he always did, he spent a bit of time swearing under his breath when he claimed you were making too much of a fuss over it. You had to drive the Jeep back, so he went off to the hospital on his own once the paramedics arrived. You made sure he was going to be okay before you left him, and Steve went to visit him so you assumed he was recovering.

“Okay,” you comment. This couldn’t wait? “Is he alright?”

“He’ll be off work and on crutches for a few weeks,” he answers. He looks down at the floor before looking back up at you.

“What is it?” you ask suspiciously.

“They...put us in charge of watching over him until he’s back at work. Mostly you.” He mutters the last part, and you raise your brows.

“What? Why me?” you ask, confused.

“You’re the one who lives next door to him,” Steve answers, matter-of-factly. He and Connie live a couple floors above you, so logistically he’s right. But that doesn’t mean you want to be his personal nurse.

“Yeah, but—” you start to say, a little louder.

“It’ll be fine,” he insists, patting you on the shoulder. “You just need to check in every now and then and make sure he’s getting some food and water in him.”

Steve grabs your hand and slips a key into it. “I’ll come by too, but you’ll be able to hear if he falls or something at night, right?”

At that, you can’t help but chuckle dryly. Yeah, you can hear plenty, alright.

~

After work, you drive back home and feel the tension leave your muscles once you step into the apartment complex. Work was uneventful, without any new leads or intel. Mostly it was just you and Steve poring over mindless paperwork. As expected, you’d gotten quite the scolding from the colonel and Messina today. This was nothing new; not with Peña for a partner. But it was the first time he’d gotten himself hurt in one of his schemes, which didn’t look good on either of your parts. You didn’t feel like hashing it out with them, so you took your warning and left, opting to chide Peña on it on your own time.

Steve had gone out with Connie after leaving today, so it’s on you to check on Peña first. The heels on your shoes clack as you make your way down the dim hallway to his door. He should still be fresh off the IV painkillers from the hospital, so he probably won’t be awake to answer. You pull out the key Steve gave you and unlock it, the cool air greeting you as you enter his flat.

It’s not your first time in his apartment. You and Steve have often had late nights here, working on some new lead after hours. Only a lamp's faded light is on, but you hear rustling inside.

“Peña,” you call out. You find him in the kitchen, trying to heat something up in the microwave while leaning on his crutches. His hair is tousled and messy, and he's in a t-shirt and loose pants—a surprising sight and a stark contrast from his usual attire. He greets you with only a glance. You almost ask how he’s feeling but the cold gesture makes you decide against doing so.

You hold up the paper bag in your hand. “Steve picked up your painkillers,” you tell him, putting it on the counter.

“No need to knock before you enter,” he remarks sarcastically, pulling his food out of the microwave.

You roll your eyes, figuring he’d be in a bad mood. “You’re supposed to be in bed. Doctor’s orders. And you’re welcome,” you counter. How does he manage to be insufferable even when fully medicated?

“You really always go by-the-book, don’t you?” he clips, the sound of his crutches clanking on the tile as he walks over to you. Jesus, Javier thinks to himself. He already has to deal with you at work, and now he has to deal with this in his own home, too?

“The hole in your leg says otherwise, although I wouldn’t say that’s my fault,” you answer tersely.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Messina seems to have made you and Murphy my punishment,” he grumbles.

You purse your lips. “Believe me, this thrills me, too, Peña. But I can’t have you collapsing on me anymore,” you say, which catches his eye. “I’ll get in trouble again,” you add, and he smirks at that.

“Ever the caring partner,” he huffs, though he’s mildly amused. He looks you up and down for the first time since you came in. He notices how you’re playing with the fabric of your shirt; another habit you have, typically when frustrated. Javier hates that he knows this, attributing it to how much all three of you are around each other. You see each other around the clock, so it’s impossible not to pick up on the little things. For a moment he ponders what you might have picked up about him—not that what you think of him matters.

You ignore the sarcasm in his voice, eyeing the box of bandages and bottles of antiseptic on the counter. In all honesty, you’re not sure how well he’s dressing his own wounds; he probably gives them a quick swipe and calls it a day. “Do you...need help changing your bandages? I know how to clean them—”

“No,” he cuts you off.

“Okay, well if you need me to get anything—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts again. “So unless you want to help me shower…” he says, sneering at the face you make.

“Yeah, I’m not sure even Steve will help you with that,” you wave a hand dismissively.

“Anyways, these meds should knock you out for a while,” you continue, changing the topic. “Which means I can get some quiet on the other side of your wall, for once.” You're only partially joking, but Javier doesn’t miss the mild embarrassment in your eyes. He chuckles without humor, but doesn’t respond.

A moment passes before you speak again and readjust the bag on your shoulder. “Get some rest, Peña,” you instruct. With that, you head back out the door as he watches you leave.

He sighs deeply, running a free hand through his hair. Why can't Murphy be the one who lives next door?

~

You continue to alternate check-ins with Steve daily, always trying to come during evenings, when Peña’s more likely to be awake. The visits are brief and somewhat civil, although they usually involve you nagging him about one thing or another and getting snippy comments in response. Really, you know he’s a grown man and all, but even when injured he’s not terribly careful.

It’s not his fault his place is getting messier—he’s not fully mobile—but his flat is usually decently tidy, most likely for his “guests”. Now the place is covered in half-empty glasses and bottles of liquor, along with random things strewn haphazardly on the floor. You’ve told him often that the papers spilling across the floor are a safety hazard for him, but he brushes you off every time.

“You’re not on the job right now, you don’t need to be an asshole,” you tell him.

“You’re not at the office now either, lighten up a little,” he rebuffs.

Javier swears that if he hears you remind him to drink more water or be more careful one more time, he’s going to lose it. He tells you as much, but you’re never able to get through to each other. It’s always been like this as partners; of course it’s no different when you’re off the clock.

You seem to be under the impression that he’s impulsive; maybe he is, and maybe he’s not proud of everything he’s ever done. But Escobar plays the game according to his own rules—playing it safe only puts more people in harm’s way. Sooner or later you might understand, but until then he’s not going to wait around worrying until you do.

~

One night, you’re met with the sight of him, shirtless, sitting on the couch. He’s smoking a cigarette and barely looks up as you enter and walk towards him.

“Steve and Connie went grocery shopping and wanted me to bring you some stuff,” you tell him as you unload the plastic bags you’re carrying. “Looks like you’ve got some snacks and instant dinners to hold you over.”

“Thanks,” Peña answers, and you're almost taken aback by the tiny bit of politeness.

He picks up the prescription bottle on the coffee table and uncaps it, shaking a pill out onto his hand before picking up his glass.

You look across the room at him and frown. “Are you taking your meds with alcohol?” you ask, probably louder than necessary.

You walk over and forcibly remove the glass in his hand, replacing it with the water bottle from your bag. He looks up at you, annoyed at your snatching of his drink. “Jesus, Peña, don’t you know anything? Are you trying to get yourself back into the hospital?”

He responds by muttering something under his breath before throwing the pill back and downing it with the water.

“You know, me and Steve would have to come over a lot less if you took better care of yourself.”

“I don’t need you mother-henning me in the first place,” he retorts. “It’s a fucking leg wound, not something that’s gonna kill me.”

“That’s exactly what I thought, too,” you snap back. “Unfortunately for both of us, our bosses think otherwise.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” he tells you, shaking his head. God, you’re infuriating.

“No? Neither did I,” you quip. “Fuck, Peña, do you not—I'm just trying to help.”

He exhales and puts the cigarette to his lips again, leaning back against the couch. You dig around in your bag for a granola bar and shove it in his direction.

“Do yourself a favor and eat something, or those meds aren’t going to sit right.” He groans but takes it, and you turn on your heels to leave.

Except, Javier never misses anything; especially not the way the thin fabric of your sleeve slides up on your skin as you hand it to him, revealing a sliver of something white on your arm.

He abruptly grabs your wrist, gently but it still takes you by surprise. “Wait,” he mutters in a low voice, stopping you mid-step. He turns your arm over, not making eye contact as he pushes the loose fabric of your sweater upwards, revealing the large white bandages that are covering the back of your arm, near your elbow. He can’t see the damage underneath, but his mouth presses into a hard line.

You bite the inside of your cheek as he examines it for a few seconds before you pull your arm away from his hand.

“I thought you and Murphy haven’t been in the field recently,” he whispers, his tone suddenly much softer than it was moments earlier.

“We haven’t,” you reply quietly. You know he’s not going to drop it by the way he’s looking at you. “It’s...from the broken glass. When the sicarios shot at us in the car,” you shrug.

“Just because I was in a hospital, you didn’t think to mention you were injured?” he sounds offended, but there’s a different feeling cutting through the air, one that you can’t place your finger on.

It really isn’t a big deal, just a few superficial gashes that will heal easily—you’ve had much worse, working in the field. You hadn’t even meant to hide it, but the bandages aren’t a pretty sight and your work attire often consists of three-quarter sleeve blouses, or your favorite cardigan.

“Peña, it’s literally a few scratches. Hardly newsworthy,” you answer, though your own voice is calm now, too.

He has an unreadable expression in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he finally says.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him simply, and you mean it. “And I’m not the one who got a bullet put into my leg,” you continue, offering the smallest of smiles.

Javier glances at the ground before looking back up at you, but you’ve already turned to leave.

Hunting Escobar meant you were all in life-or-death situations regularly, one way or another. But for an unknown reason he suddenly feels a bit heavier, and he doesn’t like it.

~

The radio’s playing as Javier sits on the floor, tossing away some bottles of liquor that are crowding his coffee table. Christ, your nagging was starting to get to him. He wishes the stations would play something besides the latest news on Escobar. If there’s anything he hates about not being able to work, it’s that he has too much free time when he’s home alone. That, and the fact that Escobar and his sicarios are still out there, and there’s currently not a damn thing he can do about it.

He’s been on crutches for a few weeks, and is now used to your coming and going. He watches as you drop some more groceries off in the kitchen, but notices you’re quieter than usual tonight. It’s not a proper check-in from you unless you’ve reprimanded him about not taking his meds, or skipping meals, or something else. Not that he’s complaining about a break from the incessant nagging, but his attention is drawn to the more pronounced lines that have appeared under your eyes lately. It doesn’t take long for him to drop his gaze, but he knows there must’ve been things happening at work that you haven’t mentioned. Or it might have just been one of those nights; he knows those too well. He definitely knows better than to ask about it.

“Wait,” he calls as you leave, and you take your hand off the doorknob before turning to him.

“Any new leads?” he asks. You almost have this look of pity for him in your eyes, which he hates.

You shake your head. “Messina’s running some intel by the ambassador tomorrow. If all goes well, we’ll be back to business soon.”

He nods. “Thanks,” he says curtly.

Your lips press together into a tense smile before opening the door and shutting it quietly behind you.

Javier rubs the back of his neck, his eyes lingering on the door for a moment. He exhales quietly; there’s nothing except the sounds of the radio show and the ticking clock on the wall. What annoys him most of all is how dangerous it is when he has this much time to think.

~

It’s the weekend, so you make plans to get breakfast at your favorite spot around the corner. The few people you know prefer to sleep in on Saturdays, so you’re on your own. It’s early, but your stomach still grumbles with hunger. This makes you think of what Steve said about making sure Peña kept himself fed—you know very well that on many nights, whiskey is the only thing anyone is able to keep down. For a second you hope he hasn’t been drowning his boredom with alcohol anymore—not that it’s your problem.

At any rate, it’s probably too early to check on him, so you head out and plan to do it later.

~

Javier wakes up after an unrestful sleep, still groggy, and shuffles into the kitchen to find something to eat. He walks over to the cupboard to find a bowl, propping himself up on one leg. How much longer with these damn crutches? he grumbles to himself.

He takes the crutches out from under his arms, resting them against the wall and limping over to the sink. Pain sears up his leg and he hisses, but he hates needing the physical support—or any other support, for that matter. He’s about to fill a pot with water when he sees a package on the counter, wrapped in tin foil.

He grabs it, realizing it’s a large, warm plate of food with a note on top. Dinner. Eat, cabrón, it says in your scribbled handwriting.

For the first time since the incident, his lips curl into a small, genuine smile. You really are infuriating, he thinks. But somehow, it’s almost endearing.

~

It’s raining outside tonight, a light shower but it seems relentless. You hop over a puddle of water as you step into your complex and close your umbrella. It’s Steve’s turn to check on Peña, so you can go straight to your flat, much to your relief.

Your clothes are wet, so the cold air conditioning gives you goosebumps as you open the door. Turning on a single light in the foyer, you pry your wet shoes off, followed by the damp cardigan you have on. You’re not dry yet, but you almost feel a little better. Tonight calls for a hot shower, but you don’t have the energy for it, so you make your way to the bedroom.

You don’t bother turning on the lights as you strip yourself of the day’s burdens and change into something cleaner and lighter. If only your mind worked that way, too. As you crawl into bed, you feel as though you could just sink right in and disappear. The soft covers don’t do much to comfort you, and you’re not quite ready to lie down yet so you sit with your back against the headrest, rubbing your eyes from exhaustion. The rain continues to fall outside your window.

Images from today fill your mind. It was another day in the field, one you were supposed to spend tracking down a low-tier sicario. Instead, you found a bloody crime scene Escobar decided to leave behind to prove a point. You had no doubt Steve was at a bar now, doing what he could to drown out the sight.

It’s not something you’ll ever get used to. Despite yourself, you think of more mundane things—your many meals eaten alone, the quiet drives home with only your mind keeping you company. Somehow, it makes things easier for you this way. You don’t want to imagine the possibilities otherwise.  It’s for the best, you tell yourself on nights like this—but repeating it doesn’t make it any easier to believe.

When your head finally hits the pillow and you pull the blanket up to your chin, you can’t help but allow yourself to wonder what it would be like if you didn’t have to face all of this on your own. It’s a common thing for you; empty thoughts in a dark and empty room, before fatigue finally overpowers your conscience.

On the other side of your thin bedroom walls, Javier lights another cigarette, deciding whether he wants to turn up the volume on the TV or turn it off entirely.

He’d already heard what happened from Steve. No, he wasn’t at the scene. But he should’ve been, instead of being stuck at home and helpless. When he’s out in the field, he likes to think he’s able to stomach it all better, running on pure adrenaline. He runs his hand along his jaw, willing the anger and tension to leave him. He wasn’t even part of this mission, nor did he make any of the calls, but somehow he knows it’s going to be another long night. He’s had worse days where he can’t take it anymore, finding comfort only in the arms of some woman he doesn’t know. Even then, it’s more of a distraction than anything else.

The guilt never leaves him—it’s a weight he deserves to carry. Every decision he makes affects something, or someone else. Whether he’s ever made a good choice, he’s not sure. But when he looks at the bandages covering the wound in his leg, tracing the edges with his finger, he knows he’s tired of dragging other people down with him.

 ~

Translations:

Cabrón = asshole

~

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[gothgirlmahi]

All That’s Best (Prologue)

Dark!Steve x Reader

New Dark!Steve series I’ve been working on. Mostly planned out so there should be a few new chapters soon especially since I’m cooped up in the house.

Masterlist

Summary: Steve saves you from a HYDRA base, but who’s going to save you from him? Warnings: Noncon, violence, Steve is crazy and will get crazier.

“Exterior is clear. I think some of them probably went underground,” Tony voice came in through the earpiece.

“Working on the inside. Nat, you find anything?” Steve asked.0

“Nope,” she said, “I think someone might have tipped them off that we were coming.”

“Or they saw Iron Man coming for the base and scattered like roaches,” Sam said. He wasn’t wrong. The Avengers hadn’t taken the most stealthy approach in this mission, but there wasn’t much reason to. They knew the base didn’t have that many people in it and anywhere they could run from this vantage point would get them caught. Even the underground tunnels had to lead somewhere nearby so every escape route was practically a dead end.

Steve crept through the corridor silently, watching for any potential threats. Even with silent footfalls, the halls echoed and creaked of their own accord. As he turned a corner, he noticed a doorway up ahead, with a bit of light emanating from it. Getting closer he saw a handprint of fresh blood staining the wall.

He hurried his gait and peaked through the door, stopping at what he saw. A woman, tied to a chair, covered in blood. Your head popped up when you heard him enter the room. 

“Help,” you begged silently. Your head sported a bloody wound, oozing steadily through your hair and down your neck. Your body was covered with other signs of struggle, ripped clothes and fast forming bruises.

“I found someone,” Steve said into the mic, “give me a minute.”

He approached you carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asked and felt stupid. Of course you weren’t okay. You were going to bleed to death if he didn’t get you out of there.

“They did this to me. I was just...I don’t know what’s going on. Please help me.” Steve ran to untie you and you nearly collapsed in his arms. The metallic smell of your blood hit the air and it smeared against his suit as he held you. Steve grabbed you firmly but gently and headed towards to quinjet.

“Injured civilian. Bringing her out now. She needs immediate medical attention.”

“Why was she there?” Tony asked.

“Maybe I’ll ask her when she’s not about to pass out.”

“Fair enough.”

“The place is empty,” Nat said. Steve could hear her on the other end of the hallway he was running through. That must mean they had cleared the whole base.

Steve looked down and sighed. You were quickly losing consciousness as he sprinted to the plane. When he was in, Banner looked you over and asked Steve to set you down.

Clint and Natasha ran in next, followed soon by Sam and Wanda.

“You guys head back, Rhodey and I are gonna stay and make sure everybody’s gone,” Tony said.

Natasha jumped in the pilot’s seat and began to fly.

Steve looked at you and frowned. You looked so pitiful, barely conscious and so confused about what was going on. Your head wound was horrendous and he had to wonder what exactly you were hit with. Banner inspected the wound for a bit and started applying pressure.

“I don’t think she’s gonna die, but the sooner we get back the better.”

“ETA fifteen minutes.”

They had been staying at a temporary location while they staked out the HYDRA base. There was medical personnel on site and people that could help you. Banner had given you something to stabilize your condition and it sent you right to sleep. Steve sighed, looking at you. It was a shame that someone like you was treated like that.

You were too...perfect. Everything about you, the curve of your lips, the melodic tones of your voice even as you cried for help. Like an angel. He didn’t have time to think on it too long as they were quickly approaching their landing point. As soon as they hit the ground, he would have you seen to in the med bay. Then he could see about getting you home to wherever you were from.

You were in the hospital for a few days. Recovering. The team was still trying to wrap up any loose ends which kept them near the base and near the hospital you were in. Steve came to visit you everyday, bringing flowers or candy or any other thing you mentioned. He found out that you lived in New York. You were supposed to be released soon so he told you not to waste an airplane ticket when you could catch a ride back with the team.

Talking to you made him only hate HYDRA more. They were really the scum of the earth. They had taken you, a young woman with no family and no one to take care of her. No one to look for her when she went missing. Someone who wouldn’t be missed. Your parents had died when you were a teenager which left you mostly fending for yourself. Then HYDRA struck.

Now that you were out of the hospital and back in New York, Steve was conflicted. He couldn’t just let you go home alone. It wouldn’t be right. The streets were too dangerous and you were possibly injured or even traumatized from your experience. He would make sure you got home safe and check in later. Follow you and watch until you got securely in your apartment. Just so you had someone on the planet actually checking on you.It was his job to protect people and make them feel safe. And you had been so grateful when you woke up in the hospital. You thanked him at least eight times and cried and hugged him. Your hugs were warm, loving, welcoming to him. He wouldn’t mind another one. He wouldn’t mind a lot of things coming from you.

It didn’t help that you were so pretty. More than just easy on the eyes. Gorgeous really. Like a personally commissioned sculpture, the ideal of beauty. Aphrodite in human form.Steve had become infatuated with you and he knew it wasn’t to a normal degree. He started following you more often until it became an everyday thing. There wasn’t any woman who ever managed to hold his interest like this, not even Peggy. Maybe it was the dependence you had on him. He had fended off a few unsavory encounters you had never been wiser to. Stayed in the shadows to protect you. Peggy had never needed him in that way. She was always well enough to see to her own safety but the idea of you needing him set him off in a mission to protect you. Because he loved you. 

He had been following you for weeks now. Watching as you went to work, came home, went about your routine. You were his obsession. Thoughts of you filled his waking and sleeping mind. But there was a problem. He knew he couldn’t be there all the time. Couldn’t protect you 24/7. Even though he saw himself as your personal hero, he was still Captain America and had to attend to his business. What would he do when the team needed him? He was starting to consider his options.

It was a shame really. And your apartment wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of safety. Once he watched a man sneak in the key card locked door behind one of your careless neighbors. He hadn’t heard of anything bad happening after the incident but the act filled him with dread. What if he hadn’t been there to watch? What if that man had ill intentions for you? His poor, helpless sweetheart. You had already been made a victim once and he didn’t want to see it happen again. Things had to change.

He asked you out on a whim although he was sure you’d say yes. When he wasn’t secretly following you, he did call you to catch up occasionally. You were always so eager to talk to him, to tell him about your day and to listen to him detail his own. When he called you, you sounded excited. His plans were to take you to a new gallery that had opened up and go from there. Both of you could appreciate good art so he knew it would be a perfect date. Maybe dinner and a movie after. God, he wanted to give you everything.

The date came and went without a hitch. You both enjoyed the gallery and talked about it at length as he drove you to the movies. cracking jokes and having a good time along the way. You saw some generic action flick but Steve wasn’t so interested in that. He was interested in you. Interested in your smile, interested in that tight black dress you were wearing, the swell of your breasts, and whatever was awaiting him between your gorgeous thighs...

...No. 

He could wait. 

He would wait. He had to.

Dinner went similarly, talking about the movie and the art you saw. You were so animated when you talked, it was absolutely enthralling. The way you described things, the jokes you told, Steve was sure you couldn’t get anymore perfect. And he was sure he was in love with you.

And that was when he knew exactly what he had to do. 

..............

Masterlist // Chapter One

[dadster-and-skelesons]

Okay so because I’m having tol kitty science man brain melt, here’s a profile for my newest muse Ebon that no one asked for! (Most info deals with his main verse that involves @spookyscientistskeleton​‘s W.D. Gaster and @puzzlebones​‘s Papyrus and Kaye)

Name: Ebon

Age: Roughly a few hundred years old and some change. His looks like he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s.

Occupation: Healer-In-Training (Pre-War); Field Medic (During the War); Healer, Lead Researcher on SOULs and Lab Assistant to Dr. W.D. Gaster Ph.D. etc. (Post-War, Pre-Accident); Gaster Follower 2 (Post Accident)

Magic Type: Green. He mainly deals with healing magic and has on several occasions been a help to many monsters around the caverns. He tends to make house calls frequently when he isn’t working on his research.

Family: Father (deceased), Mother (deceased), Ivy (sister, deceased)

Early Life: Ebon was raised by his parents and older sister on the surface. Due to the nature of their magic (and the fact that cats just naturally have healing capabilities) his family were the healers of their village. He always wanted to help others so he was more than happy to pick up the practice around the age of 7. He was in charge of minor injuries and illnesses when he first started out but his parents found he had a lot of magic at his disposal and slowly worked him up to more serious ailments.

The War: Ebon became a field medic at the age of 17 when the war began. At first he would work in temporary hospitals or other encampments that were further from the front lines. However as the war dragged on he was thrust into the front lines to do what he could to help salvage their troops or use support magic to boost their fighting skills. This put a target on him and the other healers that eventually got them killed or captured by enemy forces. Ivy and his parents were among the healers killed.

Just After The War: Once the war was over and the monsters were forced Underground, Ebon was one of the only healers left and probably the most powerful. His kind hearted nature often got him exhausted from trying to heal and care for the wounded. This led to a lot of restless sleep shrouded in nightmares about the death and destruction he witnessed during the war.

During this timeframe he befriended Gaster. They both looked out for the other, usually sleeping in shifts because they were both so busy all the time and it wouldn’t do for both of them to be sleeping at the same time. Gaster would take care of Ebon through his exhaustion and in return Ebon would comfort Gaster after nightmares or waking up in agony from his injured eye that Ebon still couldn’t quite fix.

The first time someone had ‘fallen down’ was quite a rough experience for him. His healing did nothing to help, which distressed him greatly. Because of the nature of monster souls the war and its aftermath took a great toll on monsterkind. This eventually caused the phenomenon they later called ‘falling down’. 

The Lab: Once the Lab and Core were established, Ebon began his work on SOUL Research, using what he learned from the War and caring for others in the aftermath. He was a key part in the artificial soul project that brought about both Sans and Papyrus. When he wasn’t working in the lab he was making house calls to heal monsters or providing therapy for them.

He was also in charge of Sans’s health, especially when he was first created. During Sans’s childhood he would often get frantic visits from Gaster with a very sick small skeleton in his arms. He was the only assistant who would ever see Gaster in such a state mostly due to their lasting friendship. He would usually be the one to put the professor at ease whenever he was freaking out about his son.

The Accident and The Void: He can’t remember the accident. He can’t quite remember who he is. Yet he remembers his friend and his colleagues. In some timelines he can be found in Hotland, holding a piece of his friend. He doesn’t know how he got there or why. But something compels him to tell you about his friend and boss.

[propertyofwicked]

Could you do an a-z for dating dean please? I loved tom’s! 😍

i really enjoy writing these :) ive got a george one requested so i will be doing that later. hope you enjoy this one anon :)

a - argue

like the mature adults you guys are, any argument results in silent treatment till one of you realises your fault and apologises. sometimes it takes other people to point out your mistakes, but in the end you would talk it out, make compromises and understand your differences. a little goes along way with you and dean.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

dean likes your hands. he likes how they move to cup his face when you kiss, he likes how your fingers move effortlessly across your keyboard when you’re typing, he likes how they wrap around things ;) he likes how they fit perfectly in his and he likes how they run over the surface of his back.

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

you both spend a lot of time away from each other, as he is away filming a lot and you are at uni or doing coursework. when you do get to spend time together and it happens that someone is ill, you’re still going to spend as much time together as physically possible. you’ll spend the day in bed, wrapped up warm. If you’re ill, dean wants to treat you like a queen. under no circumstances are you to leave the bed, unless it’s for the toilet, and even then, he keeps an eye on you to make sure you don’t pass out on the way. he’ll cook you food and bring you painkillers as often as needed. when he’s ill, you’ll do mostly the same, perhaps try and move him to the sofa or go for a walk for some fresh air.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

to the start of your relationship, dean preferred to take you on high key fancy restaurants, but once you were comfortable settled together you’d go on cafe dates in-between lectures or just stay home and watch movies with some takeaway food.

e - engagements (how he proposed) 

dean had taken you to venice for your birthday, and spent the entire week spoiling you,as he usually would much to your protests. on the last night before you flew home, you went for dinner and on the way home, he took you to a cute little bridge, tucked away from the main town. whilst you were distracted by the stars appearing in the orange sky, he got down on one near and called out your name to gain your attention.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

his parents loved you. his mum and you often cooked together whenever you visited for dinner, or you and his dad would talk about politics or the football. His little sister liked having a female around that was closer to her age, you were more of her friend than her sister-in-law. your parents liked dean, he was the most respectable boy you’d ever dated and they could see how happy he made you. out of each of your friendship groups, you both were the longest to be single, so your friends were just happy to see you not crying over some failed fling.

g - gifts

as dean was away for filming a lot, he often wanted to remind you of how much he loved you by getting flowers delivered to your house and when he was done filming, he’d sometimes brought back bits of set or props that he thought you would like. being a broke student meant that sometimes the only gift you could send would be some lovely photos specially for him ;)

h - how you met

often, your uni would use it’s rooms to host interviews for press tours, or q&a halls. the uni offered pay for a group of people to set up the rooms and pack up at the end so you volunteered. tt was here you ran into george and dean as it was a 1917 q&a. they were lost so you helped direct them to the room they needed to be in. dean actively stalked you down after the interview and asked if you’d want to go for coffee with him and you hit it off from there.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

whenever, wherever. he’s down. the amount of time you spend apart just builds up your need to be together, so you grasp at any chance you can to be physically intimate with one another. it’s when you’re bored of a tv program, or he’s wearing a suit, you get the gist.

j - jealousy

you get fairly jealous as dean works around and with a lot of people you believe to be better, prettier, that yourself. as much as dean reassures you, you can’t help yourself from wondering if he’d ever leave you for one of the actress he work with. dean doesn’t tend to be massively jealous, but the more time he spends away from you, the more jealous he gets. he fears that you will find someone who can be in your life more permanently and physically than he can.

k - kinks

dean likes edging/control. he loves to see you struggle to contain your release until he says so, and he loves to take you beyond the point of pleasure till you’re literally begging to cum.

l - long distance

with dean working away so much, long distance gets hard. Sometimes he manages to come home for the weekend, but he could be gone for 3 months at a time. every night, you facetime or call each other whilst just going about your daily routine together, as if he was there. just hearing each others voices daily was enough to keep you going till you saw each other again.

m - moving in

there was never really a point where you moved in with him. your stuff just started manifesting it’s way into his house, to the extent you’d spend ages searching your room for it only to realise you’d left it at dean’s. once you were going into your second year at university, you’d been with dean for almost a year and he just kind of suggested that you live with him to avoiding massive bills for uni halls, but everyone knew it was a ploy to be able to spend more time with you.

n - nights out

as a student, nights out were key to social engagements. so, your group of uni friends and their partners would head out to a local pub and spend the evening chatting drinking or playing darts. you’d both stumble home at the early hours and wake up several hours later with a pounding hangover.

o - open with each other

whilst he was away, it was hard to be fully open with each other, knowing that anything bothering you would just upset each other further as you couldn’t be with each other at the time. once he was home, however, it was easy to spend hours wrapped up together talking about anything that was on your mind.

p - pda

neither of you are particularly into massive displays due to the public eye being on you more often than not, but a simple hand hold or peck didn’t go amiss. dean preferred to save all of his affection for home, where he could properly show you how much you meant to him.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

let’s be honest, you would go into any massively deep conversation it’d be more along the lines of “how was your day? what did you do?  did I ever tell you about the time that...” but it was the small moment s like that that counted.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

not at this point in time, as it is the start of your careers and you’re both pretty young but you had discussed it a little. if it was to happen by surprise, you’d both embrace it but one day down the line you fully plan to have atleast a child if not more.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

the simplicity of his happiness. it doesn’t take much to make dean smile, or let out a little laugh but every time he did you feel a surge of happiness rush through yourself. to see him happy made you happy, so you’d strive to do that as much as humanly possible.

t - together (what you do together)

you guys like watching movies, which isnt surprising given the nature of deans job. you also like to spend quite a lot of time in the bedroom ;)

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

it was rather common that you’d be out separately, you out with uni mates or him with co stars. drunk calls were the best, both of you becoming the funniest people alive whilst intoxicated. when he chose to stay home and you’d make you way back, fumbling to get the keys in the lock subsequently waking him up, he’d come to you and put you in bed. he’d make sure there was a glass of water and painkillers and a bowl near your head. you’d do the same, but drunk dean is flirty dean and whilst you were trying to change him into sleepable clothing, he’d make comments like “at least by me dinner first”

v - vacations

a lot of your holidays were spent on set with him, but sometimes you’d go abroad to malta or somewhere remote. you preferred quiet, adventure holidays than expensive beach holidays.

w - wedding

you had the cutest wedding ever. it was in this converted barn, with both your families and friends attending and the reception was basically a massive party in very fitting taste for you and dean.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

dean injured himself on set of 1917, where he slipped down a trench and twisted his ankle fairly bad. because of it, he was sent home for two weeks to recuperate, where you literally tended to his every need. you brought him food, drink, medication and care to the point where he literally had to make you spend time on your other work rather than him for some time. normally it would just end in you falling asleep, cuddling on the sofa, in your living room.

y - you (a random headcanon) 

you’d had a long and bad day at uni, so you came home stressed out of your mind, muscled tensed and a pounding headache. the moment you stepped foot into the flat, you bag dropped to the floor and shoes kicked to the side, you walked into the living room where dean looked up at you and sent you a small smile. he noticed the fatigue in your eyes and posture, moving to pat his lap for you to sit on. You found your way onto his lap, legs wrapping around his waist as he moved to lay down. you hands moved under his back to hold him properly and one of his arms snaked around your waist, the other moving to brush a hand through your hair. his head lifted up slightly to press a kiss onto the top of your head.

“bad day?”

“very. but it’s slightly better now.”

“you’re very welcome babygirl”

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

dean would be in bed before you every night without fail as you’d be sat doing coursework till late. but he always stayed awake till you made your way into the room and held out his arms for you to climb into and rest your head on his chest. his hands would go straight to your hair and brush through them softly, lulling you into a deep sleep that he too would fall into soon after you.

[irispublishersmedicaljournals]

Iris Publishers - Current Trends in Clinical & Medical Sciences (CTCMS)

Can Emergency Medicine Become Redundant?

Authored by Andrew Hague

Injury and illness

Injury and illness are the two medical problems. Injury can be sudden and requires emergency treatment. Illness is incremental and treated progressively.

Doctors are role models

Much work is done to prevent illness. We see this in better hygiene, personal and social; washing hands and sanitation. Lifestyle affects health and people are advised on diet and exercise. The equivalent advice from doctors about emergencies and injuries is missing. In all societies, doctors are role models. We all grew up thankful for the attention of a doctor at some stage. They brought us into this life and will see us out. Seldom do they pronounce on politics and although they have a good income are never seen as having more than their fair share of wealth. People respect doctors and this status should be used by doctors to influence behaviour. Doctors, whether they like it or not, are role models. What they say, is influential.

Causes of injury

There are four classes of causes of injury:

4. Misfortune

From the first of carelessness to the last of misfortune, the chance of avoiding disaster gets less which means that a doctor has less influence. Nevertheless, statements by doctors will be heeded and when it is understood that the doctor invites redundancy this advice will be respected. We wish for the same from the police and fire brigades. Indeed, the fire service devotes a lot of effort to inspecting buildings for fire safety. Do the police invest time preventing crime or is that left to the deterrent effect of sentencing and punishment? In many cases, it is hoped that people will be careful to avoid injury but still they turn up at the A&E in pain and talking about accidents. Investigators admit that the truth is there are no accidents, only mistakes that were avoidable.

Consequences

A child has no concept of consequences. Over time, by trial and error coupled to imitation, the process of conditioning adds to the memory bank and the child becomes an adult aware of the consequences of their actions. People who have not acquired this knowledge should be recognized by doctors for their ignorance which will become evident in frequent visits to the clinic. Their teachers will have already identified these people at school as slow learners. It is in these encounters that doctors have a role to play. Interestingly, the accident prone are not always those scoring low in education. There are many explanations for mistakes. The person who does nothing may stay safe but achieve nothing and the ambitious may push the boundaries of sense to explore beyond. This is the consequence of having the brain we acquired when we mutated into homo sapiens.

Carelessness

There is an assumption that tidiness is safer than a mess. Do more accidents happen in a messy or tidy workplace? I do not know but from my own experience and this includes owning a factory for many years, a mess is not the cause of mistakes and tripping over wires. Where there are obvious dangers, people are alert and avoid them. When there is deceptive safety, one’s attention can wander letting the day dreamer trip or walk into a half open door. Our brains are not born to cope with neatness. The cave and the jungle floor are always a tangle and walking depend on watching where to put your feet for every step. Only since manufacturing required orderliness has a clear path become essential. This allows carelessness.

There is the often-quoted story of two mountaineers trying to find their way to the Royal Geographical Society through the back streets of London. These men had climbed the world’s mountains and then one of them tripped over the kerb when crossing the road in London and broke his leg. As a doctor, what can you advise to prevent such mishaps? Obviously, the fellow was safer on Mount Everest than the paved streets of London.

I visit many countries and complain when I cannot drink the tap water and walk at ease in the towns because of the holes in the pavements. However, I do admit that the locals never seem to fall on those pavements and neither did I; I had to watch where I was going. Carelessness is thus a response to a deceptively safe situation. Add some dangers, as our cavemen-forebears expected, and there should be fewer accidents. Modern manufacturing which is as automated as possible has reduced the chances of injury. Earlier methods often allowed the operator to injure themselves.

Working a fly press involves placing the component under the press tool and swinging the handle to bring the tool down with a load of anything from 5 to 50 tons. Repeating this cycle ten times a minute creates a rhythm of complacency. When the left hand moves before the right hand instead of the other way around, the hand can be under the press with disastrous consequences. Later improvements were to install guards; the guard came down before the press. That resulted in some cases of the guard trapping the hand preventing it being withdrawn from danger. The operator had to wait a second, which can be a long time in these circumstances, for their hand to be amputated in one blow.

Eventually, designers arranged for the descent of the press to be controlled by two buttons, one a shoulder’s width away from the other so that both hands had to be on a button before and whilst the press came down. The release of one button would stop the descent of the press and interrupt the cycle. Automatic pick and place machines have mostly replaced human press loading and it is only where labour costs are so low that investment in automation cannot be justified that workers are exposed to dangers. Automation is criticized for creating unemployment.

It increases productivity and safety. Only the setter, the person setting the tools under the press, is in danger when preparing a new tool in the production process. As the setting task is not repetitive with each step having to be thought about, the injuries are fewer. Setters were in danger if someone switched on the machine not realizing there was a person at the back or inside. These calamities not only resulted in death but led to claims of manslaughter incriminating the person who switched on the machine and the employer. The answer was for the setter to isolate the machine and withdraw a key to the control box, lock it and keep the key in his pocket so that the machine remained inactive until the setter switched on again.

Recklessness

This is where we remember the story of the boy cycling around the house and as he takes his hands off the handlebars he shouts, “Look Mummy, no hands”. A few minutes later he reappears and shouts, “Look Mummy, no teeth”. Due to his bravado, he had crashed. The same happens driving cars at speed, playing with knives or generally showing off. The need to be reckless, seen more in youth than maturity, is shuffling into pecking order to find a place in the hierarchy of society. Less skill means more crashes and you slip down the scale of ability. Balance a football on your nose and the crowd will cheer. Humans play these games because they position each person where they can best support the tribe.

Modern society does not depend on physical skills. The computer nerd is today’s leader. When a doctor explains to the children at the local school that fooling about is dangerous, some sense may prevail and lead to fewer injuries. Recklessness will persist because the desire to show physical prowess is innate. With education essential for survival today, the clever ones are revered, and this will influence our species as physical strength and agility is less desirable in the gene pool compared to mental ability. All species adapt to the environment or become extinct.

 The human environment is changed by our own behaviour and we are these days in the midst of an evolutionary shift. The damage we inflict on the environment causing climate change is expected to lead to our extinction. It certainly will but only if it kills us before we kill ourselves by preventing deaths through extended longevity so that adaptive mutations cease. This is a medical emergency beyond the ability of emergency doctors.

Aggression

Lack of fear and aggression goes together. When a wild dog approaches a group, it will sense the meek one who is afraid and attack. This is enabled by the electrical circuits and magnetic fields by which brains operate and is how humans and animals can relate to each other. As a doctor, you will have learned little about this at medical school and yet it is fundamental to behavioural studies and cancer [1]. Aggression is useful in primitive society when dealing with predators, less so in a civilised society. The military employs soldiers trained as commandos, to operate behind enemy lines and, where necessary, kill with their bare hands. Such a person, who can emerge from an assignment and look unperturbed is almost unknown. When the fictional James Bond peals off his diving suit and walks nonchalantly into the bar for a drink shaken and not stirred, he is nothing more than entertainment. The brain does not work that way. An actor can play the role to the cameras but in real life, the adrenalin and tension involved dominates the soldier and, for many of these people, rehabilitation is difficult.

As a doctor, dealing with the effects of aggression, especially when coupled with alcohol and drugs, is a nightmare. To stop it would amount to eliminating those people programmed to be aggressive. Either they find a role in the security forces and we hope they obey the law, or they become useful to organized crime. The doctor will sense these attributes in a young person. I doubt they can be ameliorated. The only way is to direct that person into a role where they can be useful, and the military is an opportunity.

Misfortune

This is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There is little a doctor can do to prevent victims being struck by misfortune. Awareness of danger is everywhere. Entertainment media dwells on buildings exploding, cars flying off the road and rolling down the mountain, jumping out of a plane and landing safely in a haystack. I feel that this awareness diminishes the sense of danger rather than creating risk avoidance.

News programs refer to natural disasters. They are not disasters. Avalanches, earthquakes, floods and forest fires are natural phenomena that have occurred since the earth was formed and will continue after our species is extinct. In many cases, they are predictable and thereby avoidable. Modern weather forecasting can give two days’ notice of a cyclone or hurricane, time enough to move people to shelter. Living on the side of a volcano where the soil is fertile is always tempting but the gases rolling down from the crater can be poisonous and when the volcano erupts the lava is destructive. You don’t need to be a doctor or a geologist to warn of such dangers.

This is where the sober, thoughtful advice of a doctor carries a lot of weight. Every community has its danger areas. It may be the high cliffs, a motorway, a mosquito ridden swamp, places where the unsuspecting can get into trouble. Tell the community leaders. They will listen to you. Fences can be erected at the edges of the cliffs and busy road and the swamp can be sprayed to control the mosquitos. Always present a solution to the problem and be sure you have no relationship with the contractor who will carry out the work.

Psychology

Preventing injuries involves more psychology than physical medicine. Psychology still falls within the skills of a doctor. There is little scope for direct action. The best a doctor can do is influence and advise and it is by being a doctor that notice will be taken of your advice. The inevitable conclusion will be that humans are accident prone and seek rather than avoid trouble. The doctor is then expected to repair the injuries just as a garage would fix a car damaged in a crash.

I have left their hyperlinks in place. The extent that the injuries can be traced back to psychological causes differs. Certainly, a disturbed mind leads to suicide and violence and very likely to road crashes. Many years ago, when I was teaching sociology to an adult college class in which we were studying criminology, I proposed a cure that I still believe is the only cure and is in most cases impossible; the cure for criminality is to sentence the criminal to a good home. Here is a murderer. Please love him. The explanations were made by John Bowlby in the 1960s and earlier. His best-read book is Child Care and the Growth of Love [3]. Only by parental love can a child acquire empathy and be able to pass love on to others. These bonds are essential in human groups and exist in all animals. Recent botanical research adds to this insight by finding electrical relationships between plants. A person who grew up unloved can be expected to not fit into society. They will not accept the common rules of behaviour and be unaware of others’ feelings. Without empathy, cruelty is easy. Should this individual become a parent, the children will also lack bonds.

Doctors will recognize these people and their disruptive, often temporary, families. They are crimes and injuries in the making. What can a doctor do to prevent future mishaps? On the face of it, very little. Most doctors work inside a bureaucracy and there will be no scope for interfering in a patient’s private life, for that it is how it will be perceived. In earlier times, religious leaders would step in, but their leadership has given way to the smart phone screen which cannot love, only excite and provoke. Sociologists call it alienation and anomie; being cut off from society and having no feeling of belonging. If this were the lack of vitamins or a virus infecting the blood, a doctor could and would do something. The affected (instead of infected) patient is equally in need of help but seldom is a doctor seen as the person to turn to. Eventually, it will be the police and their aim are to pass to the courts, then prison. Society offers no cure despite knowing the cause and suffering the consequences. If what cures is medicine, then here we need social medicine. I contend that doctors apply medicine. If it is not the police to become involved, at least it will be the emergency doctor stitching up knife wounds.

Even amongst well brought up people there is a range of temperaments from placid to impetuous. Impatience can cause injury. Think of bad driving or pushing in a queue. Does such an irritable person need a tranquilizer? Theoretically, extreme behaviours could be chemically restricted, a technique sure to cause ethical arguments. People self-administer their personality shift with alcohol in one direction and caffeine in the other. I advise against both drugs, but they are popular. Medically there is no safe upper limit for alcohol. Coffee is fully accepted, approved and big business. Politicians create laws, companies lobby politicians and consumers accept laws. I love coffee, its taste and smell, but I read my own senses, and something tells me to be wary; minimize on coffee. Look after the brain for a healthy body. Anything that affects the brain is dangerous. This does not include listening to Beethoven.

I have little sympathy with addiction because I see it as selfinflicted. More compassionate souls feel sorry for those who cannot stop doing something. In the context of injuries, think of speed and racing. The winner is the one who placed their life most at risk. That is stupid but the audience loves it and next time greater risks will be taken. Confined to a racetrack, only the participants get hurt. On the open road, you and I can be hit. I remember a doctor assigned to a Formula One racing team explaining that every bone in their star driver had been broken at least once. Didn’t that put him off? No, he is addicted, and nothing will stop him. At the end of the line, the publicity was increasing the sales of something.

Trauma Infection

The first action on a trauma patient brought into Accident and Emergency on a stretcher, assuming the bleeding has been staunched by the medics, is to treat with a CellSonic VIPP machine to kill all and any infection. The intense pulses will penetrate to catch germs thrust into the wound. Importantly, stem cells of the right type in the right quantity will be delivered in the blood to exactly the right place by the immune system responding to the pulses. The blood will automatically have more oxygen and growth factors to aid healing. All this can be done before the doctor arrives to inspect the patient.

Professor Richard Coombes, an orthopedic surgeon of Charing Cross Hospital in London always said that CellSonic VIPP machines should be standard equipment in all emergency units. After the wounds and bones have been set, use the CellSonic again to kill any infection. This can be instead of antibiotics or allow a much lower dose of antibiotic. The benefit is saving the patient from developing antibacterial resistance and reducing the contamination of local rivers whereby antibiotics travel through the patient and the sewage system to rivers where fish and surrounding land are contaminated.

Conclusion

Doctors can help to reduce the demand for emergency medicine. It requires an extension of their usual skills into the therapy of psychology and social manipulation. Humans have brains which search for change. In the process, they hurt themselves and each other and call upon doctors in an emergency. If a more placid life is desirable, emergencies will be rare but that is not the current trend. Expect more horrors. To read more about this article: https://irispublishers.com/ctcms/fulltext/can-emergency-medicine-become-redundant.ID.000503.php

Indexing List of Iris Publishers: https://medium.com/@irispublishers/what-is-the-indexing-list-of-iris-publishers-4ace353e4eee

Iris publishers google scholar citations: https://scholar.google.co.in/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=irispublishers&btnG=

[nad-zeta]

Hey, I would like a match-up please. Very introverted and quiet(I will literally not interact with someone unless they showed explicit interest in me first) and will take a lot of time to open up. A huge animal lover, and a vet. Am also pretty passionate about science, especially biology, and I have a bit of a distaste for superstitious/preachy religious people. My hobbies include, besides the classic reading and playing video games, horseback riding and martial arts, even learned to use a gun.

Hi, there, dear!💎 thanx so much for the request! I hope you enjoy it and I hope you are staying safe and well!🌸 And soz for taking sooooooooooo long with it<3<3<3.

So I match you with................ Ieyasu

It was actually Masamune that pestered the shit out of you, that pulled you out of your shell to start interacting with the other warlords. Hideyoshi suspicions of you also lasted 0.2 seconds, as you were so shy and introverted around him he couldn’t help but turn into MOTHER MUST PROTEC CUTIE MODE. Between the two of them, you slowly but surely started opening up to the people around you and started to come to like it in your new home. You mostly kept to yourself not wanting to bother the people around you.

You spent most of your time reading in the castle’s archives. You were awestruck when Mitsunari first showed you the place, and it had quickly become your second home. You would spend hours and hours reading their vast amounts of books. You were shook at how advanced and spot on some of their scientific books were. You had a set routine, you would wake up eat breakfast and spend the whole day reading. You would often be so engrossed in your studies that you would fall asleep in the archives. That my friend is how Ieyasu came to slowly get used to you. He would go the archives late at night to pick up more books and drop off ones that he had just finished reading. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sleeping princess. It seems you had yet again fallen asleep sprawled across one of the newest biology arrivals. He quietly walked up to you, to see what you were reading. His eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn’t help but give you a slither of a smile “Not as dumb as you look”. You were busy reading a new complex biology book, filled with advanced concepts and terminology. He carefully took off his hoari and gently draped it around your shoulders, careful not to wake you. He then spared you one more glance and left the room. 

You always got excited whenever you saw Mitsunari or Ieyasu in the archives. The best was when the three of you would sit together and have tea while discussing different scientific topics. THB you were even shook when Mitsuhide would join in the conversation give some perspectives of his own

However, all that was thrown out of balance when one day Nobunaga announced that the oda forces were going to war and that you were to accompany them as lucky charm. You were honestly FREAKING OUT. Although all those complaints fell on deaf ears as Nobunaga’s word was basically the law. You were assigned to help out Ieyasu in the medical tent. You breathed a sigh of relief as at least you knew enough about biology and veterinary science to be of some help. Ieyasu showed you the ropes, teaching you all the ins and outs of patching up injured soldiers on the fly. At night, the two of you would go out and forage for plants to make some medicine. You low key impressed Yasu with your vast knowledge of plants, you were also a fast learner and pick up concepts quickly. By the end of the war, you were a natural at patching up soldiers and making medicines from scratch. 

The two of you had come to enjoy the other company and to say Ieyasu was a little sad to not have an excuse to see you every day would be an understatement.

After the two of you arrived back home, Nobunaga announced that some people had their eye on you and were planning on kidnapping you. You were shocked and a little scared. Ieyasu suggested that you learn some self-defence, and Mitsuhide chimed in saying that he would teach you how to shoot. And that my friend is how you landed up at Mitsuhide’s manor with Yasu. Mitsuhide taught the two of you to shoot a rifle. Of course, Yasu was slightly more skilled than you, as he had been doing these lesson for a few weeks now. Although TBH you shocked both of them when you picked up the rifle, after observing Mitsuhide shoot, and shot the target dead in the centre. These rifles were slightly different from the guns back home, but the basics remained the same. This basically resulted in you and Ieyasu having a shoot off to see who the best student was.

After your friendly lil competition Ieyasu grabbed your hand all while being as red as a tomato and lead you to his manor. He then gave you some salve to help ease the stiffness and muscle pain from a full day worth of shooting. At this point, you had quickly come to sum up the porcupine. You knew he was actually a massive sweetie pie and that his contrary way of speaking was just a mask. After he handed you the medicine, he offered you some tea. 

As the two of you were sipping on tea and chatting, he curiously asked you where you had learned to shoot, and that is when you also revealed that you knew martial arts. Ieyasu looked at you in awe, was there anything this woman couldn’t do. 

He had long ago fallen in love with you, but he just didn’t know how to tell you

One day you were walking around the garden when you spotted Ieyasu crouched down near a big sakura tree. You slowly made your way over to where he was crouched down, curious, to see what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock at the scene in front of you. A small grey cat was severely injured, it looked like someone had beaten the poor thing. You crouched down beside him, this wasn’t your first time patching up an injured animal, you are a vet after all. You looked into Yasu’s emerald eyes, they were red with unshed tears. It was clear he like you was a massive animal lover. You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it. “Let’s go back to your manor, I know how to patch this lil guy up.” “Silly girl, its already too late, his injuries are too severe there is nothing we can do for him.” 

You ran to the castle and grabbed the medical kit in your room, you then took the cat from Yasu’s arms and gently laid him down on the soft hand towel you had brought with. You had tools in your medical kit that Ieyasu has never seen before, he was shocked. You took out your stethoscope and listen to his little heartbeat, afterwards you gave him a quick once over to asses the damage. You started to patch him up. You wrapped the small cat in a blankie you had brought along, and you and Yasu made your way back to his manor. You placed the cat to rest on Ieyasu’s futon. “I can’t believe how cruel people can be, hurting such a poor defenceless animal”. Ieyasu simply nodded and made the two of you some tea. You had told him about your life, your job back in the future and well the fact that you were from the future. Everything started to make sense to him.

Why you were so naïve, so pure and so innocent. And Yasu told you about his life, his time as a hostage, everything. Your lives had been so different from each other, yet here you were sitting across one another each in love with the other. You had visited Yasu every day to check up on the little cat. Through these visits, you and Yasu became even closer. And one-day Yasu decided to confess his love for you. He was overjoyed when you stated that you too had loved him for a long time.

The two of you made the cutest couple, the dr and the vet. The two of you patched up and healed every man, woman, child or animal that crossed your path in need of help. You loved how soft and sweet Yasu is, a side only reserved for your eyes, and your eyes alone. He loves to cuddle and snuggle you all day long. You love the feeling of his warm arms wrapped around you. You can’t help but compare him to cotton candy, soft like a pillow and sweet as sugar. He will often come behind you as you work on making some medicine for one of your newest animal patients. He will gently snake his arms around your waist and prop his chin up to rest on your shoulder while he watches you work. He will definitely give you a few kisses on the cheek and back of the neck. 

He loves it when you turn in his arms and return the warm embrace. He loves it, even more, when you give him a small lil Eskimo kiss followed by a sweet soft kiss on the lips. You have made this softi boi the happiest boy in all the world, and he will spend every day reminding you just how much he loves and adores you.

Other potential matches............... Yukimura 

I hope you enjoyed it, love! ^_^❤❤🔥

[godtierwallflower]

hi!! I was thinking about LeeSaku, and wanted to know, what are your thoughts on this ship? do you like it, does it work, etc?

LeeSaku is a ship that was unfortunately all but dropped in the canon, much like our boy Lee himself! And also much like Lee, it was cute with a lot of potential and could have been explored for some interesting depth and had some cool setup, even if it didn’t go anywhere!

I like it, I think it could work, and I’ll put my thoughts under a cut for you!

I thought that Lee getting a crush on Sakura after she shows how smart and able to see through genjutsu she is. Lee recognizes ability and he was absolutely blown away. He came on strong and didn’t mince his words, but then, Sakura came onto Sasuke even stronger and pushier, so that’s not an insult to his character.

And Lee jumping in to protect Sakura, putting himself at risk and more-or-less handicapping himself because protecting a stationary target is a huge liability in a fight. It definitely demonstrated that Lee was serious about his desire to be there for Sakura and shine in her eyes, and Sakura recognizing that and thanking him for it was a very sweet, very endearing moment for her. When she smiled and said that he inspired her, all beat up but earnest, and he cried tears of joy because that’s what he wanted to hear… 

Sakura and Lee both represent human weakness and they both have expressed that they feel inferior to their teammate(s) in some way, but they’re pretty opposite in some key aspects.

Lee had nothing to begin with, no skills. Even his taijutsu was bad, and no one except Gai ever expressed any belief in his potential. Despite that, Lee had a clear goal and worked tirelessly for it. Lee’s been a hard worker that almost no one saw any potential or talent in from day one of ninja kindergarten. He’s built up his own confidence and measures his self-worth against his growth, to the point of being self-destructive and having no survival instinct.

Sakura, on the other hand, was very complacent throughout Part 1 and before it, something she herself admitted. She’s often praised by others for being very smart, but she’s admittedly lazy with her training and isn’t motivated enough to actively train tooth and nail to improve herself until the end of Part 1. She spends a lot of time on battlefields playing it safe and not pursuing a specialty.

They both gain a lot of respect and care for each other during the chunin exams, and they both felt extremely disappointed in themselves and inferior to their peers after those chunin exams ended.

Sakura visits and watches over Lee in the hospital a lot, of her own accord. She sees how hard he works, even when he’s in so much pain and faced more humiliating defeat than she did. She’s inspired by his passion and concerned for his lack of self-preservation. After the chunin exams, she’s very sweet to Lee and open about how much she likes him, and he’s one of the characters that she’s nicest to.

She’s ecstatic to see him at the final round in the crowd, she cries and laments when she sees him pushing himself at the hospital, and she is there to try to comfort him during those times.

In the Sasuke Retrieval Arc shortly thereafter, Lee is the one who comforts and reassures a sobbing Sakura, when she’s worried about Sasuke. He’s clearly not doing this to curry romantic favor, since this is him cheering on Naruto’s mission to retrieve Sasuke. He just genuinely wants to reassure her and be there for her, just like she does for him.

I think Sakura being moved and inspired by how hard Lee tries and how proactive he is in his own training and goals  is really cool. And Sakura going on to become a medical ninja training under the woman who worked tirelessly to save Lee’s life opens a lot of potential, if you want to explore those two years where Sakura’s teammates were gone. Lee working through his rehabilitation and getting back on his feet, Sakura buckling down and deciding to be proactive and hard-working and move forward with a goal now. Sakura remembering how badly Lee was injuring and being even more motivated so that next time one her her loved ones gets hurt, she’ll be able to alleviate their pain.

Them crossing paths and encouraging each other often during the time skip is a really fun idea to think about, I think!

They could have become a really cool taijutsu battle couple. 

[koschei-in-leather-pants]

Columbus GA Law Firm

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Personal Injury Attorney Columbus Georgia

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After a crash, it is not necessarily uncommon to get a deal from your insurance adjuster representing the at-fault party. At this stage, many people would like to determine if it can be worth contesting this offer as soon as the amount may seem reasonable and won’t involve a lengthy legal process. But, there are some important points to consider before you make this decision.

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The true price of your case will come down to the “damages” you possess sustained due to the negligence of some other person. The entire damages would include the financial costs, emotional distress, mental anguish and physical experiencing injuries linked to the accident. Additionally, punitive damages could be laid on the at-fault person if their actions were especially egregious.

Under Georgia Law, the plaintiff, or the individual who received the damage, is eligible to compensation equal to the amount of damages they experienced because of the accident. These damages should be bought by the defendant, or even the at-fault person. More typically, it will be paid by the defendant’s insurer.

The damages awarded will probably be arranged by either side after negotiations. Either side will generate a figure they presume is fair and definitely will make an effort to reach a contented-medium settlement which everybody can concur with. If this type of settlement can’t be reached in negotiations, the way it is may be come to court as well as the judge will order the harm award be paid.

Columbus GA Accident Lawyers

Very often it is easy to detect an at-fault party and initiate creating a case against them. Still an experienced team of experienced accidental injury attorneys will offer you no end of advantages here. However, there are occasions the true parties responsible will not be as obviously identified and there could be many parties responsible for the incident because it played out.

There are alternative methods that every one of these potential defendant has to be in the accidental injury claim. Also you can count on every one of these defendants relying on experienced legal teams to safeguard their interests in such case. Because of this it will be imperative for the likelihood of a decent shake that you also include a qualified legal team to pursue your case in negotiations and courts if needs be.

Personal Injury Legal Claim Columbus GA

Most states could have a period frame through which injury cases can be created, this period limit is known as the statute of limitations and varies between states. In Georgia, defendants have 24 months in the date of your incident that caused the injuries to make their injury claims. Next time, the way it is may be void.

Call the law firm of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. if you wish to find out more about the statute of limitation mainly because it applies right here in Columbus, GA.

Personal Injury Case Columbus GA

There are lots of factors that are involved in properly qualifying a personal injury case which is tough to make a general approximations without checking out the details of the situation. At Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Law Office this site offers free consultations to those who have suffered injuries from negligent parties. We are going to review your case and provide a clearer picture of your own chances for recovering compensation. We shall also give you advice in the best strategy out of this point.

The important points of each one of these factors will have to be thoroughly examined and their damages transformed into a cash value. Those accidents that contributed to serious damages could have far greater effect on the lifestyle in the injured person and that can add value to the situation.

Some of these damages are really very easy to calculate, like the expense of treatment, however the damages for pain and suffering or emotional may require professional opinions and resources to calculate. A reputable law practice, like our personal, could have every one of the resources and connections to produce precise calculations as well as a strong case for negotiations and court battles.

18 Wheeler Personal Injury Law Firm Columbus GA

There are several important steps that will have to be extracted from submitting the lawsuit to reaching the ultimate settlement. Before an agreement might be reached both sides will have to agree with an award amount through negotiations. If this can’t be completed, then a matter will have to be settled in courts.

In addition there are many individual factors in every individual case that may have a role in prolonging or shortening the method. Naturally, those cases that happen to be straightforward and include only minor damages will be completed far faster compared to those that come with much more serious physical impairment pain suffering and extensive medical treatments.

Crucial Elements That affect the Length of a private Injury Case in Columbus

Settlements

In case you have an incredibly specific thought of what kind of settlement you think is appropriate, you will probably find that negotiations will take a little bit longer. Negotiating for a top-dollar compensation requires more work than in the event the injured party is flexible with their expectations. But, this doesn’t mean you must accept the initial offer you are provided.

There are actually the full case could be over in a short time if you accept the initial supply the insurance adjuster make. Of course, this could mean settling to have an amount which is much lower compared to the true importance of your own injury case and you may find your expections outweigh your compensation in the long term.

The insurer working with the defendant would want to visit your medical records both after and prior to the accident before thy will be ready to accept to an agreement. They will want to make certain that all of the injuries and damages you are describing from the lawsuit actually are from the incident in question and were not conditions you had prior to the incident.

Insurance carriers are really careful about their work and can try to do just as much as they are able to to lower the pay outs they create for medical expenses. When they can prove your injuries were not actually connected to the accident, they may have no responsibility to deliver compensation for them.

In case the injuries are, certainly, attached to the accident, they already have other methods to reduce the payouts they are required to make. For instance, they could say your injuries usually are not as serious as you described them and may only need moderate medical treatment for that forseeable future. Needless to say, this is simply not carried out with your full recovery under consideration, but also in the interests of the insurance provider.

These are generally just some of the key reasons to get a qualified injury law office in your corner to make sure that all the information are properly included as well as your case is bullet proof before entering negotiations.

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Accidental injuries lawsuits may take between several months to a few years to perform their course and the time frame you can anticipate is going to be individual to your case. If you would like a greater idea of what to prepare for from the personal lawsuit case, get in touch with our reputable law practice and schedule a free consultation using our injury attorneys.

Furthermore, having a Columbus GA injury attorney on your side will make sure the process is completed as smoothly and favorably as possible. Maybe the situation is strong and runs very smoothly from commence to final negotiations along with a settlement. But, when the challenge will not be so easily resolved, it will need to be come to court. It will likely be important to have strong legal counsel in such a gathering.

If I’m Partially to blame inside the Accident, Would It Be Still Possible to File an individual Injury Lawsuit in Columbus GA?

There is still an opportunity to recover damages from a crash should you be partially to blame for the injuries. In Georgia, legal requirements of modified comparative negligence implies that provided that an individual is below 50% responsible for the accident.

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While the thought of employing a team of high-caliber lawyers is usually a very expensive prospect, we will not allow financial ability to stand in the way of getting our clients the compensation they require for the full recovery. With the Law office of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C., we operate under a contingency plan, or even a “No Win, No Charge” arrangement.

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For that reason, we don’t charge out clients a cent for our own expert advice, professional consultations or extensive expertise in accidental injury lawsuits – until we win them the compensation they deserve and everybody goes home happy.

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[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 3: Sleight

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.

After surgery, Natasha was wheeled into a private room at NYP/Weill Cornell Medical Center, and once it had been made clear she would make a full recovery, Bucky called a meeting.

Five plastic chairs situated around the bed; every pair of eyes narrowed; each mind determined. Out of all the potential outcomes, none of them could have anticipated this, and it wasn’t just because Steve had chosen to defend himself.  

Natasha was dutiful, cautious, and extremely versatile. She’d carried more than her fair share of the water and had never shirked or shied away from any of the endless lists of tasks and responsibilities they’d given her. Over the years, she’d become the Queen in their metaphorical game of chess, was welcomed and respected in every territory, and was often the envoy, enforcer, and enticer. She was integral to the Families and invaluable to Bucky.

She’d also never been injured this badly before and that put them all on edge.  

“How did this happen?” Wanda inquired quietly.

Thor grunted, “We know how it happened.”

“We need to focus more on the why instead of the how,” Tony remarked.

Clint nodded in agreement, “If I’m being honest, I was glad to hear he’d returned, but now…”

As comptroller, Maximoff was most concerned with finances. Odinson, in his capacity as recruiter, was having trouble getting the fresh meat to settle down. Stark made sure law enforcement on their payroll turned a blind eye to Steve’s return, but this had drawn a lot of attention, and as a result, Barton had been forced to place a temporary hold on all incoming and outgoing product.

One thing they could all agree on was that the matter needed to be approached with even more caution. They still didn’t know the whereabouts of the deceased senator’s wife, nor the motivation behind Steve’s aiding in her escape. Bucky had assumed he’d returned for the funeral, but whether or not that was his primary reason for staying in town was unknown. Nevertheless, Bucky admitted he’d made the mess, and told them he would clean it up.

Clint was tactful when he pointed out they’d tried it his way and it hadn’t gone well. When Bucky asked for suggestions, Thor threw out the obvious option of having someone else finish the job. Wanda alternatively asserted that if he intended to let Steve live, he needed to be placated. Tony decreed it was best to keep enemies close and that Bucky should simply seduce him. Clint recommended backing off and giving Steve a wide berth for the time being.

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. While everyone continued to discuss how best to resolve the brewing conflict, he averted his attention to Natasha, who had woken up mid-way through the conversation. If anyone had the right to an opinion, it was her, and when he held up his hand for silence, everyone quieted down.

“Natasha?” Bucky prompted.

“Use him,” she rasped. “Make him an ally again.”

He’d never considered bringing Steve back into the fold, but it was the most practical way to resolve things. As the Families had never formally voted him out, he technically still had a seat at the table, and could return to it at any time. If Steve did return, things would change, but adjusting parameters and expectations wasn’t the issue.

Steve was a natural leader and would’ve been Boss had he not left. Loyalty and tribute were given and paid to the Families as a whole, but Steve inspired a level of fanaticism and devotion that Bucky just could not replicate. Though the title alone commanded respect, Bucky knew some considered him a placeholder; there were big players who’d been waiting for Steve to return, and if he was welcomed back, there would be a power shift. Even though Steve had never expressed a desire to run things, it was a mantle Bucky, if pressured, would be forced to let him have.  

War and peace, love and hate, progress and tradition – they were often two sides of the same coin, one that had been flipped many times over many generations. As head of the Families, it was left to Bucky whether or not to toss it in the air again, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was a gamble, a fifty-fifty chance, and he wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed playing the odds. He tried to look for a clear outcome, but the tide kept shifting, the waters were murky, and he couldn’t yet see in which direction the wind would blow.

“We tried the stick,” Wanda gently reminded him. “Let’s see if the carrot fares better. I’ll reach out.”  

Bucky inclined his head, “Very well.”

With the decision made, the others departed, but Bucky remained. He scooted his chair closer to the bed and when Natasha held out her hand, he took it. She’d been hooked up to an intravenous analgesia pump, but had yet to use the medicine, and that meant both her grip and her words were fierce.

“Whatever you do, don’t fuck with him,” she warned. “I don’t know what Steve’s up to, but I can tell he’s changed, and he’s dangerous. You watch your six, you hear me?”  

“I’ll be as careful as I can be.”

“Have you said anything to the press?”

Bucky hummed noncommittally, “They believe it was an attempted robbery gone wrong.”

Natasha nodded, let go of his hand, and depressed the button to release the morphine, “Good. Now, go away – you got shit to do and I need rest.”

If anyone else had dismissed and dictated to him like that, Bucky would have broken their jaw, but since it came from Natasha, he just smiled. Even with a foot dangling over the grave, she still busted his balls, and because she was the only real and true friend he had, he didn’t fight her.

The drive back to the penthouse was a slow one because of traffic and when he finally pulled into the private parking garage, he was exhausted, irritated, and starved. The guard at the desk greeted him politely and Bucky waved back. It was a quick, smooth ascent to the top floor, and when the elevator doors parted, he stepped into the foyer, and was greeted by an unexpected albeit not entirely unwelcome visitor.

“In the span of twenty-four hours, you’ve botched a takedown and you let me get the drop on you,” Bruce stated blithely. “Didn’t I tell you to change the security code after I installed the system?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gestured toward the kitchen, “What do you have for me?”

Bruce tossed a folder onto the island’s marble countertop and gave him a rundown on Steve’s activities. The man was good at keeping a low profile, but he was able to piece together some of what Steve had been up to while he was away, and squeeze a bit of information out the people who’d been helping him stay under the radar since his return.

“Steve is independently wealthy now, but where the money came from is a mystery,” Bruce informed him. “If the olive branch Wanda plans to extend involves cash, it’ll be useless. He’s got holdings and properties both in this country and abroad. I can’t find any red flags and it all appears to be legit.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and opened the fridge, “And the plot thickens.”

“Sam admitted he stopped in, but wouldn’t give details on what was purchased,” Bruce explained as he accepted a beer with a nod of thanks. “But knowing what Wilson keeps in that back room, Rogers is probably armed to the teeth.”  

He flipped through the photos and the intel, “I want to know who else he’s visited and where he’s holed up. And find out where he’s hiding that fucking widow.”  

“He knows how to avoid being seen, so, it’s not an easy task. It’s going to take time and cash.”

“Money you can have,” Bucky told him as he headed for the living room.

Bruce followed and sipped his beer while Bucky keyed in the combination to the wall safe. Once it was opened, he collected a few stacks, and handed them over.

“Grease palms and keep digging,” Bucky insisted.

“Will do.”

If anyone could find a needle in a haystack, it was Bruce, and Bucky knew he could rely on him to get it done. The man was a genius with a mind that absorbed and retained information like a sponge. Publicly, he put his Ph.D. to good use via publications and giving lectures at various universities; privately, he helped the Families by being a shadow in the world of data collection. Skeletons in closets, economic shifts, voter mindsets, new product on the street, backroom deals, who was getting up to what behind closed doors – Bruce knew it all, and on the off chance he didn’t, he always managed to find out.  

Bruce tucked the money away, tossed the bottle into the recycle bin, and as Bucky escorted him out, he strongly urged him to reset the alarm code. As soon as the door was shut, he did just that, and went back to the living room.

Exhausted down to his bones, he plopped down on the couch, loosened his tie, and kicked off his shoes. Cellphone in hand, he mulled over what to order for dinner, and after he decided on Italian, he closed his eyes, and settled back into the cushions. He must’ve nodded off for a moment, because when the doorbell rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered as he rushed for the door.

Bleary-eyed and absentminded, Bucky didn’t check to see if it was actually his food delivery, and within seconds, he was made to regret it.

He saw the fist that barreled toward his face, but wasn’t fast enough to block it or duck out of the way. Bucky was hit with such force that his head snapped back and he fell right down onto his ass.

Blood gushed from his mouth and nose and the copper-flavored taste rolled over his tongue and slid down his throat.  There was only one person in the world who could ring his bell like that, and when he looked up from his prone position on the floor, he cursed.

“Hello, JB,” Steve deadpanned. “Mind if I come in?” Chapter 4: Erstwhile  

Everything: @jennmurawski13​​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @captain-rogers-beard​​ @lilliannaansalla

[puppyexpressions]

How To Find A Dog Sitter

Deciding who to leave your pup with while you’re traveling is a tough call. Finding an excellent dog sitter isn’t always easy, but it’s important for your dog’s safety and well-being while you’re gone.

Be sure that you really trust your dog sitter to take great care of your dog and your house. It might sound easy to take care of your pup, but that means that there are also plenty of people who get work as dog sitters who are lazy and not ready to do a great job!

How to Find a Great Dog Sitter

Nowadays, it’s deceivingly easy to find a dog sitter. Simply pull up an app on your phone, and you’ve got a match with a sitter in minutes. Unfortunately, despite the assurances from those apps, you can’t necessarily trust the sitters or the minimal background checks that are done on them.

It’s generally better to find a dog sitter through your personal network. You might be able to hire a friend’s dog sitter, the teenage child of a coworker, or a friend of a cousin who loves dogs. Get someone who comes highly recommended. Local universities, especially if they have a pre-veterinary track, are also a great place to find sitters. College students are usually old enough to be responsible but young enough to be affordable.

If your dog has special medical or physical needs, be sure to be upfront about that. For example, if your dog is a very high-energy dog, plan to leave them with a dog sitter who loves hiking or trail running so that they’re both happy.

Questions to Ask a Potential Dog Sitter

Once you’ve got a list of potential dog sitters, it’s time to do a bit of interviewing. Don’t be shy about this. If the dog sitter finds this offensive or annoying, that’s a red flag. You’re leaving your best friend in their care, after all.

Ask your potential dog sitter:

What experience do you have with dogs?

Have you ever watched a dog similar to my dog? (in size, breed, temperament, etc.; It’s okay if it’s not an exact match.)

What’s your plan if my dog gets sick or injured while I’m gone?

How many times will you walk my dog per day? How long will the walks be?

How long will you leave my dog alone every day?

Can I see some testimonials or talk to past clients?

Will my dog stay at your place or mine?

If my dog does something that annoys you, how will you respond?

Will my dog be walked and cared for alone, or with other clients? You might like that your dog gets the social time, or you might prefer to avoid this risk. It's a personal choice.

Do you plan on letting my dog off leash? Most times, the answer to this should be no. It’s just not very smart to expect your dog to listen to someone who he doesn’t know.

Do you have insurance? Most part-time sitters, like college students, won’t have this. Decide if that’s OK with you.

If your dog is staying at their place, ask to see the space.

If the sitter will stay at your place, decide on your house rules for them.

Will you be driving my dog around? You might prefer not to have your sitter drive, or maybe the extra adventures are a bonus!

Do you have reliable transportation if the weather is bad?

How to Set Your Dog Sitter Up for Success

Once you've selected your dog sitter, it’s important to make sure you set them up for success. It’s a good idea to have your dog sitter over to show them where you’ll put keys, instructions, food, and more. You can watch them and your dog interact and show them around your house.

Don’t be embarrassed if you end up leaving your dog sitter a binder’s worth of instructions! Most dog sitters will really appreciate all the info. Consider including:

Your dog’s name, age, breed, and medical history

Your vet’s information

What tricks and behaviors your dog knows (It’s helpful if your sitter knows both the verbal cue and the hand signal for your dog.)

Any behavioral or medical information on your dog, such as your dog's recent surgery or the fact that your dog is shy with strange men

Your dog’s daily schedule in excruciating detail

Whether or not you’d like your dog interacting with people or other dogs while under the sitter’s care

Where all of your dog’s supplies and food are stored

Where your sitter will sleep

Whether or not your sitter can/should eat perishable food left in your fridge

Whether or not your sitter can have friends or significant others visit

How much do they eat? When? Where?

How much do they poop? When? Where?

What’s their favorite walking route? How far do they go? Do they like running, hiking, or fetch?

How many treats do they get? For what?

What equipment are they walked with?

Even if your dog is friendly, it’s often a good idea to have your sitter be a bit more cautious

TV and WiFi information

Basic neighborhood amenities, like a nearby pet store or snack shop

Where to park

Anything to watch out for or know about in the neighborhood

Who your sitter can call if they get locked out or has any other emergencies with your dog

Of course, you’ll go over most of this verbally when you meet your sitter. But no matter how simple the instructions seem to you, that's probably a lot of information for them. Make sure you have all the information they will need at the ready, and above all, communication is key.

[mianix]

"Mine" ~ A Gift Fic for LukeLemon-Art

I have been among the DBH community for a few months now and the one thing I love most about it is how supportive everyone seems to be. It doesn’t matter if you are an artist, writer, animator, video editor, cosplayer etc. You are welcomed here with open arms and encouraged to do your very best.

The best example of this I can give is @lukelemon-art. I have watched them encourage people of all mediums and fandoms to do well. I’ve experienced their fun nature and their generosity myself when they reblogged my friend @bunnylove56’s Reed900 fic when they weren’t sure anyone would like it. They gave her the confidence to keep going and I adore Luke for conspiring with me to get her to keep going. I never expected it and it only proves my point further.

The above artwork was recently done by Luke with an amazing backstory of Connor, discarding his LED and Gavin chooses to keep it, worn by a leather strap around his neck. Not only did this warm my heart, but inspired me to write my first Convin story as a gift to Luke for all their kindness, not just to me, but the community. Their art makes me happy, as I imagine it does a lot of you. So here’s me supporting their art and repaying them for too many kindnesses to count. 

Note: This gift fic is rated M and contains a big old lemon…lol Because of Tumblr’s new rules and to be safe, the preview will end with a link to finish the story on AO3 instead of the typical cut to read the entire thing on my blog. So if you aren’t into reading something a bit smutty, go back now, gentle reader.

———-

Connor wondered, honestly, what frustrated him more: the idea of Detective Reed disobeying Hank’s direct orders, or the fact that Connor had made a deal with him to get them to this point.

He had been trying diligently over the past year to find ways of endearing himself to the bitter Detective, but nothing he did seemed to quell the man’s hatred for him. No amount of help, kind gestures, or careful consideration had changed a thing between them.

They fought constantly on the job and it had shown its own wear on Connor over time. He recalled how, in a fit of frustration, he had pulled off his own LED and tossed it at the Detective’s feet.

“THERE! Since it bothers you so much! Now you can stop complaining about it and actually get some work done. Oh, wait. That’s right! I mean sit on your damn phone instead of actually helping us for once!”

Everyone had looked shocked to see such anger come from him, but they often forgot he was no longer a thing who took orders. It had all just boiled over and he couldn’t take it anymore. A part of him felt guilt at the look that crossed Reed’s face, but he walked away before he could worry on it too much. In that moment, he felt justified, but later he regretted it.

If for nothing else, he had taken pride in wearing his LED once he’d deviated to remind him of their struggle and to never be ashamed of who he was. Because it made him into the man he was now, who had friends, family and a life that was entirely his own.

This, naturally, was how he found himself helping assist Detective Reed into his apartment.

“Last door, on the left.” Gavin groaned as he stumbled a bit.

They’d been in a scuffle only an hour before, all thanks to Detective Yells-Too-Much. Hank, in some disturbing thought to force them to into being civil, had downright ordered them to work together.

“Frankly, everyone is getting tired of listening to you two argue all the time. It’s not productive and seriously hurts office morale. We’re fucking homicide. We see gruesome death and tragedy on the daily and somehow you two bitching every day is making it even worse.” Hank had said, frustrated when the two had yet another blow up.

“What about Nines?” Gavin had asked. It seemed the further from friendly he got from Connor, the more he stopped harassing the RK900 model. He’d actually started working with him, to Connor’s surprise.

“We’re swapping partners for the week. Nines will work with me and you two need to learn to work together. Fowler’s down my neck about this and if you two can’t work this out there’s the possibility of reassignment to a different department.”

That had gotten a reaction, from both of them. Because it would likely be one or the other, which meant Connor would have to leave Hank or Gavin would be losing his position in his preferred field. Neither of these were an option.

Connor moved to the door, pressing Reed to the wall to help him stand better.

“Keys?” Connor asked.

“Pocket.” Gavin replied with a twinge of pain. They’d been staking out a warehouse, helping out the drug division on a red ice case, but couldn’t seem to not fight. They were completely hopeless being stuck in the confines of Gavin’s car and their inability to ignore one another got them caught.

They were set upon by some low level lackey’s who luckily were too stupid to be properly armed. Connor had sustained some damage to his arm, but had come out holding his own. Reed, on the other hand, had not. A quick glance at the wound on his abdomen told Connor the glass bottle had cut Gavin as he tried to dodge it. He would be okay, but he would need stitches and proper medical care.

“Fuck that. I don’t have the money to pay for an ER visit. I’ll just do it myself, like always.” Gavin had said with labored breathing as Connor drove them away from the warehouse, the sound of gunfire finally breaking the air as more lackeys came to their friends’ aid. It was fight or flight for Connor and at seeing his human companion bleeding and exhausted, he chose to live and fight another day.

“What do you mean like always?” Connor asked incredulously. It was purely rhetorical though as he didn’t need to consider it much to know Gavin Reed refused to go to the hospital unless he was taken there by force… or unconscious. Connor considered that as a valid option, but cast it aside at the thought of the assault charges that might accompany it when Gavin gained consciousness.

But Reed was stubborn and finally they’d come to a compromise: Gavin would allow Connor to do it for him. He could locate the proper programs to accomplish the task of patching Reed up. If he could not get him proper medical help, then this was the next best option.

Connor stared at the Detective, whose free arm hung a bit limply at his side. Blood could be seen staining his shirt there, as well. Wonderful. Without much thought, Connor plunged his hand down into the Detective’s jean pocket to feel around for keys. He felt Gavin stiffen at his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ careful, dipshit. You’re grabbing my keys, not playing pocket pool.” Gavin bit out between clenched teeth. Connor ignored him and pulled the keys out, setting about the task of opening the door. Once he did, he heard a loud mewling getting closer.

The small, furry head of a cat peeked through the crack of the door, it’s tiny paw pulling at it to further open it.

“Don’t let him out. He’s a fucking escape artist.” Gavin groaned as he pushed the door in and pressed the cat inside. Connor followed behind him, closing the door and entering into Gavin Reed’s apartment for the first time.

Gavin went directly for his cabinets as the first room they entered was the kitchen. Off to the right was an open archway into what Connor considered was the living room. He didn’t have much time to consider it though as he watched Reed pulling out more medical supplies then he figured most humans would keep in their homes.

“How often do you get injured on the job?” Connor asked at the fully stocked cabinet of disinfectants, gauze, bandages and other medical supplies.

“Enough to be prepared.” Gavin replied as he opened a drawer to his left and pulled out a partially full bottle of whiskey and a small, unmarked kit. Connor eyed him for a moment, but decided it wasn’t worth the headache.

Gavin sat on the counter with some difficulty and Connor had no choice but to help him, as his arm was of no real use. Once there, Gavin opened the whiskey bottle with his teeth and took a deep dram of the amber liquid. Connor immediately took hold of the bottle and pulled it away.

“What the fuck, Connor? You gonna make me go through this stone cold sober?” Gavin asked bitterly.

“You’re the one who refused to go to the hospital, where they could ease the pain you’re about to feel. You have no room to complain and I need you lucid.” Connor said simply. Perhaps a small part of him enjoyed mocking Reed, but he tried not to think on it too much.

Connor turned to look at the supplies he was given and felt his eyes flutter as he downloaded the necessary program to properly sew stitches. He considered asking how Gavin also had access to the items required to do this, but was certain he’d probably either not get a response or would get a bullshit one.

Connor lifted the hem of Gavin’s shirt, glancing to assess the damage, but knowing full well his first instinct was correct. He did his best to clean the wound, having Gavin hold his shirt up so he could work. Connor noticed he was in pain, but he gritted his teeth against it.

“Since we have some quiet time, are you ready to tell me why you hate me so much?” Connor asked, figuring anything that distracted Gavin would be better than letting the man suffer.

“Because you’re a brown nosing cunt who - FUCK! The hell Connor?” Gavin roared when Connor threw caution to the wind and straight up applied the chemical cleanser without care to the wound.

“Sorry. My hand slipped.” Connor replied stiffly as he grabbed another piece of cloth and tried to be more gentle. Gavin glared at him, still tensing for the pain he no doubt anticipated, but Connor was content with letting the snide remark go.

“What do you care whether or not I like you anyway? We’re not partners, so why the hell should you give a damn?” Gavin asked, choosing his wording more carefully this time as Connor dabbed around the edge of his cut.

“I’ve only been trying to figure it out since day one. You’d think I personally wronged you in some way.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m an asshole to all androids.” Gavin replied. Connor’s eyes lifted and he noted Gavin had been watching him, but the moment their eyes met he quickly looked away.

“That’s not true, actually. What about Nines? You show him more regard than you ever have for me.” Connor said pointedly, not faltering in his look. Something passed over Gavin’s face, it was minute, but it was there. A moment of panic, then recovery.

“Nines does as he’s told. He doesn’t get in my way or stop me from doing my job.” Gavin replied and his eyes came back to Connor, side glancing him, then looking down to where the small cat was perched on the floor, watching them. It moved gracefully, wiggling its tiny behind before it jumped on the counter beside Gavin and stepped on his thigh. Gavin opted to focus there.

“Nines also is still an android. It’s very simple Detective. I. AM. ALIVE. I’m not a piece of furniture for you to do with as you please and until you learn this, it will be the primary cause of our arguments.” Connor said in quick succession. How many times must they have this conversation, re-worded in so many different ways?

“I’m in fucking pain here. Can’t you give me a break, just once?” Gavin asked and Connor noted his voice sounded weary. The cat at his thigh pressed its face into Gavin’s palm and he gave it such a momentary look of tenderness that It shocked Connor. Then it walked further up Reed’s leg, jumped effortlessly onto his shoulder and stood there.

“That’s not really sanitary for what we’re doing Reed.” Connor began, but found himself intrigued by how the cat walked behind Gavin’s head and laid itself around his neck and shoulders so casually. Its foot disturbed the leather strap that usually hung around the Detective’s neck, dipping down into his shirt. Connor had always wondered what that was, but opted to not pry.

“The cat stays. He’s more of a comfort than you are.” Gavin said, but it wasn’t as mean spirited as it might’ve normally been, because the cat was rubbing its face against the stubble on his chin. Connor just watched, forgetting himself momentarily. Who the hell is this and what did he do with Gavin Reed?

When Gavin’s eyes came back to Connor he seemed to remember himself and that look of indifference came back. It broke the momentary spell and Connor continued working.

Silence hung between them as he worked, except for the purring of the cat on Gavin’s shoulders and the occasional groan or gasp of pain from him as Connor used skilled hands to suture up the cut. He preferred the silence, not remembering a time when the two of them had been so close and not blowing up into a full argument.

He wasn’t sure why this gentler side of the Detective intrigued him. He did not even know he had a pet and never would’ve guessed he could be affectionate with anything. But as long as Connor pretended not to notice, Gavin lavished the animal with attention. Had he ever seen the Detective smile where it didn’t feel like he was baring his teeth as a threat? No, not around Connor. In the pain, he sought comfort in the animal and it seemed to sense his need of it. It never left his shoulders, nuzzling and pawing at the man the more his discomfort seemed to peak.

When he was done with his side, Connor moved to roll up the sleeve on Gavin’s shirt. This wound was superficial in comparison to the other and needed nothing more than a bandage. He stepped into Gavin, the Detective’s knee brushing the inside of Connor’s thigh. Gavin jumped, startling the cat, but did not remove it.

“Careful.” Gavin said in a low tone. Connor tilted his head, trying to figure out what exactly had set the Detective off. Gavin moved his knee, unable to meet Connor’s eyes and with a slight blush filling his cheeks.

“You do realize I have no genitalia to injure, correct?” Connor said innocently enough, but Gavin’s face went a bright shade of red almost instantly at his words.

“Why the fuck would you tell me that?” Gavin asked, obviously startled by this admission.

“You feared hurting me, didn’t you?” Connor asked in reply.

“That is so fucking weird.” Gavin continued with a groan as he covered his face with his one free hand.

“I’m a prototype, Detective. What use would I have for - “

“STOP talking. Please? Just, stop.” Gavin begged, still not looking at him. Silence hung between them, awkward to say the very least. Then Reed broke the silence. “Your arm. It’s injured.”

Connor looked down to observe the blue blood soaking through his jacket arm. He pulled his arm out of it and found his white dress shirt was covered in blue as well. Connor shrugged his jacket off, laying it neatly over the kitchen chair. When he turned back, Gavin was moving tenderly off the counter.

“Wait.” Connor called out as he went to help the man down. Reed waved his hands away, the cat still laying around his neck like a scarf. It yawned, unbothered, and Connor wondered if this was a natural thing for these two with how contented it was soaking up the Detective’s warmth.

“Get on the counter.” Reed said suddenly as he reached for the small, unmarked kit he’d had hiding with the whiskey bottle. Connor eyed it curiously, but when Reed turned and noticed him not moving he added, “Get a move on.”

“I’ll be fine. Once I’m back at the office I can use one of the android repair kits to patch up my arm. You needn’t worry.”

“What the hell do you think this is?” Reed asked as he opened the small container. To Connor’s surprise, it was an android repair kit. A crudely put together one, yes, but still exactly what was needed for superficial wounds like what Connor had. He stared at Gavin, who seemed to be getting flustered by Connor’s sudden attentions. “What?”

“I’m just surprised you’d have something like that so readily available.” Connor responded truthfully. He wouldn’t think that Gavin would even care enough to keep something like that around.

“I have an android partner. Why wouldn’t I?” Gavin asked, glaring at him. But there was something else there and for the first time, in a long time, Connor saw something in his peripheral vision. It was faint, but unmistakable as it ghosted into his vision.

Software instability ^^

It had been over a year since he’d deviated, since he’d broken free from his programming. These programs were gone and yet, for whatever reason, it had shown on his periphery screen.

Without knowing why, Connor obeyed and sat on the counter without any argument. Reed moved close and looked awkwardly at his arm, stared, then looked away.

“You’re gonna have to remove your shirt. I can’t get to it and if we need the soldering iron I wouldn’t recommend putting it close to fabric.” Gavin said simply. He wasn’t looking at Connor, but focusing on the cat on his shoulder instead.

“Of course.” Connor responded and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Connor didn’t know why, but there was static in the air that seemed to intensify with each button he undid. Gavin wasn’t looking at him, but he felt like he was being watched anyway.

Once the shirt was open, he slid his arms out of it and laid it neatly beside him. He turned to look at the cut and as he figured it wasn’t anything to worry about. He would likely be scarred from the soldering, but that wasn’t important. He turned back to look expectantly at the Detective, but stopped.

Gavin was still looking away from him, arms crossed at his chest. Connor noted something else of interest. Gavin’s pulse was elevated. He’d attributed this to stress and pain as he worked on Gavin’s wounds, but now he wasn’t so sure. His eyes could see piloerection forming on the man’s forearms; goosebumps. And the red hue that had been on his face had traveled down his neck to the skin peeking out from the v neck shirt he wore.

“Gavin?” Connor asked when the man did nothing. He saw him take a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily, exhaling. Then his eyes turned, focused hard on Connor’s and faltered. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little light headed from blood loss. I’ll be fine.” Gavin responded. But when he moved towards Connor, he caught a downward glance that became fixated on his thirium pump regulator. As if involuntary, Gavin’s hand came out and moved as if to touch it, but recoiled after a moment. As if he didn’t realize he was doing it.

The static intensified and made Connor’s skin prickle.

“Are you sure you’re okay Gavin? The wound is superficial and can wait if you’d like to sit down.” Connor offered, completely confused by this sudden change in demeanor. The whole time his cat perched, unbothered and suddenly unnoticed by Gavin as his eyes focused on Connor’s bare torso. Connor saw the man’s eyes dilate.

Software instability ^^

Gavin moved closer, setting the kit to one side of Connor’s hip, then taking his hand in his own to position Connor’s arm where it would be easiest to work on it. All Connor could do was watch, oddly fascinated by whatever phenomena was taking over the Detective and possibly…himself. This was new and fascinating to him. Exciting, even.

At one point, not wanting to focus so much of his attention on Gavin, Connor lifted his hand and stroked the back end of the cat as it purred happily. He saw Gavin’s eyes glance towards his hand, stiffening slightly until he realized its destination. He shook his head, blinking with a short breath as he set back to task.

“Okay. That should do it. Grip my hand.” Gavin said as he lifted his hand in front of him. Not in a handshake, but in fully open palm in front of Connor. He pressed his open palm to Gavin’s, entwined their fingers and gripped. “No malfunctions or weakness?”

“No. It feels just fine, actually. Thank you.” Connor replied genuinely, but Gavin was not quick to release his hand. Connor eyed him, that curiosity itching so much to be scratched. What was this? He felt his own thirium pump shift, more static. This was having a physical effect on him he could not place, the longer Gavin held his hand like that. “Gavin?”

In an instant, he hand let his go and he turned back to the table to place everything back into the kit.

“You should be good now. Probably best if you left. I should get some rest.” Gavin said quickly, but something else caught Connor’s attention as Gavin turned his back on him. Blood on the back of the Detective’s shirt. Another wound he hadn’t seen.

“Gavin. You’re still injured.” Connor said as he hopped down off the counter and walked over to him. He felt Gavin tense as he took the rim of the neckline on his shirt and pulled it down a bit.

“It’s okay. I can do it.” Gavin said quickly.

“It’s on your back. You can’t reach there. Take off your shirt and I’ll get it for you.” Connor offered. When Gavin didn’t move, he added “As soon as I make sure it’s nothing bad I will leave. You agreed to this earlier, remember?”

Gavin sighed, lifted his hands to gently remove the cat from his shoulders. He sat it onto the floor where it remained, staring up at them as if disappointed to no longer be a part of the situation. Then, begrudgingly, Gavin put his hands to the hem of his shirt and tugged upwards. For a moment, Connor caught the flash of something blue glint as it moved at the base of Gavin’s neck, then he realized that it was an LED. Unmistakably, his LED.

Gavin’s eyes followed his no doubt startled looking ones to the necklace at his chest and realization dawned there as he turned away, scrambling to get back into the shirt. Maybe hoping Connor didn’t notice?

“Gavin…” Connor began, but Gavin just started walking away from him. Without thought, he pursued the man as he entered his bedroom off the living room. Gavin tried to close the door, but Connor pushed it open easily as Gavin stumbled backwards. “Is that my LED?”

“It’s not what you think.” Gavin said quickly as he stood by the bed, arm out as if Connor might punch him. But Connor didn’t feel anger. He didn’t know what to feel, because he didn’t know why a part of him was hanging around Gavin Reed’s neck.

“Is that my LED?” Connor asked again. “Let me see it.”

He stepped forward, hand outstretched to pull at the leather straps that held it up, but Gavin smacked his hand away. That startled him, but did not stop his pursuit. Gavin grabbed at his hands, trying to prevent him from seeing it again and Connor found himself struggling with the Detective, being pulled towards him, hitting the bed and straddling over Gavin as he yanked the man’s shirt down. It was his LED, still glowing a dim blue as it pulsated against Gavin’s chest as his heart rate elevated quickly.

Gavin was breathing heavily and that red hue was more apparent on his chest as Connor held the shirt collar open. Gavin’s eyes were lidded and suddenly Connor realized something. Like all the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“You-” He began, but Gavin leaned up quickly and pressed his lips against his. Connor’s eyes widened, unsure of what to do, but finding himself intrigued. Fascinated. He could analyze the alcohol still left on Gavin’s tongue as it ghosted between his lips. His body temperature peaked, the open eyes watching him fully dilated and a scent lingered between them, coming from the Detective’s skin. Gavin took his bottom lip between his own and tugged. Connor felt something at this, but could not define it and that only made him pursue it more.

Static.

———-

Continue Reading on AO3

———-

Visit the lovely LukeLemon-Art:

- Instagram

[curekneepain56-blog]

A Detailed Assessment Of Feel Good Knees Plan

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[noonmutter]

Awkwardness Pt. 13 - Finale

Subtitle: “This Took HOW Many Parts?!”

Previous part can be found here!

(This one got long but that’s because there wasn’t a better place to cut it and frankly we wanna be done. Enjoy!)

    The good thing about worgen bites is that even if he wasn't already a worgen, they can't spread the curse these days, so they really are just big stonking bite wounds, more or less easily mended. And she got him there awfully quickly!

    Getting the priestesses in the room to stop staring and/or yelling at her for busting into the temple like she did long enough to realize there is a dying man on the floor and do something about it is actually much easier when all you do is scream "heal him" and point, too.

    The tricky bit will be keeping him from changing back before they're done fixing him, because it'd almost certainly overtax his system.

    The night elves probably see similar situations fairly often. They set up the city's primary portal in a healing temple. This is where Janosis brought Shedwyn and the hunting party when she got her body back, after all. They're probably just glad she doesn't dump the bloody pupper in a moonwell. 

    Still, there's enough shouting that Lucien goes from covering his eyes to covering his ears, and that is a mistake. Prae quickly covers the boy’s eyes with his wings after a tiny little gasp of horror, but it's too late. The next round of shouting is for an acolyte to get the boy out of there because he's trying to help and no. 

    Thankfully that command is accompanied by a higher-ranking priestess with her head on straight, because she starts shouting orders at the other priestesses and they listen. One of those orders is for them to flip him so they can figure out how badly he's hurt and fix it instead of merely stabilizing him with the magical equivalent of doing a transfusion on a patient who still has a gaping wound.

    Boss Priestess looks over Shedwyn, takes in the fact that her only injury is a bruised and bleeding scalp (which she stops while laying a hand on Shedwyn's shoulder), gun still in her hand, the anxiety, the tiredness (a quick Enervate), the guilt... And because she's a damned good Priestess of Elune, she asks what happened, in between Shedwyn shouting for the other priestesses to watch out for his claws.

    "There were three ferals, they came out of nowhere, they shouldn't have been that close to town-"

    The shouting and shuffling about didn't rouse him, didn't even seem to register with him. Even being shoved around and turned over, though it had to hurt like hellfire, only got another low baying sound of discomfort, but no real attempt to move. But the smell of Lucien coming close, probably trying to tell them to let him help? The distress and fear in Shedwyn's voice? Those made him open his eyes and start shifting around again. "... sky..."

    Boss Priestess loses her source of information, or rather, she has to follow it as it goes bounding over to kneel next to Terry's head. God damn it this thing had done its very best to eat her before, and now here she is petting it. "You're gonna be alright, honey, you just hafta stay still, please." One of the lesser priestesses, one who's dealt with a lot of worgen, murmurs, "Keep him from shifting, if you can... It's very rough on them physically." Dwyn whimpers. "I... I don't know how, I'm always trying to get him back to-" She turns back to Terry. "You hear that, honey? You can't shift back. It'll kill you, please don't-"

    "...tired." One enormous hand raises (to the alarm and consternation of the healers around him) to try and touch Dwyn's face, missing by a few inches and thus sparing her the mess of even more blood smearing across her cheek.

    She grabs for his wrist and sweet mother of life he is heavy. "Please don't leave me."

    One of the healers scoffs. "He's not going to die unless he changes at this point. Just keep him talking."

    "Talking's not really his strong suit." To Terry, "What do you wanna hunt when we visit Grizzly Hills, hm?"

    There's a faint, puzzled whine in the back of his throat that, if he hadn't bled most of his energy away on the way here, would've been accompanied by a headtilt. "...big-deer. .. Elk. Lots of meat. Fast."

    "Yeah, I thought so. They look delicious, right? And challenging."

    "Run for long time. Might fight." He trails off after that, eyes unfocusing (though it's hard to tell when they're glowing), and mumbles something unintelligible.

    "'Ey, no. No." She takes her life in her hands and pinches his ear, hard as she can.

    That makes him yelp and snap at her, though he's sluggish enough she can probably avoid him. One healer swears, another stifles a laugh.

    She sucks in a hiss of air through her teeth as she only barely dodges, her sleeve catching on those mad teeth of his. "G-good! No falling asleep!"

    He leaves his head where it is, huffing almost dejectedly and somehow managing to let his tongue loll from his mouth without biting through it. "Tired."

    She takes a deep breath, centers herself, and scowls at him. "If you go to sleep you will never see your sky again. Not ever."

    "My sky." A somewhat ridiculous argument, that his sky wasn't allowed to take his sky away again solely because it was his, but it was enough to make him turn his head.

    "Yes. Your sky. But you have to stay awake to keep her. You have to fight."

    The glow of rejuvenation fades and one of the healers breaks out the wire and needles for stitching, giving her an encouraging nod over Terry's side. He grumbles much too doglike for a wolf's dignity, licking his chops. "Mine. Fought. Killed. Mine."

    "Yours. Your sky. You killed them both very dead. But if you sleep now you still don't get to keep me." It takes both hands for her to squeeze his wrist, but it takes two hands just to hold it up, so...

    He doesn't say anything else, but his eyes stay fixed on her face and his fingers curl just the slightest bit. Behind him, the healers finish enchanting the wire so that it'd shift with him, and start a-stitchin'. Terry...does not like that sensation, not at all, and squirms.

    Shedwyn's eyes flick away from his to the stitching, and she wishes she hadn't looked. "Shit, no." She puts a hand on his forehead. "No. You have to be still, love. Just a little longer."

    Another whine, both of discomfort and indignance, but he tries to be still. It doesn't last very long, and it becomes something of a battle between keeping him still, and keeping him awake. Sooner or later, he was bound to pass out, though, in spite of pinching or talking. 

    One of the remaining healers stepped in to stop Dwyn from panicking outright when she took notice. "We are nearly finished. If we must, we will complete the stitching after he changes. The worst is past, and at this point, we are no longer concerned about his intestines falling out. Please relax."

    Shedwyn stares up at her like she has no comprehension of the word. Given the last few days, she may genuinely be forgetting. "I... he needs his medicine. I should go get it."

    "By all means, do." Anything that made her step back and breathe is seen as a good thing just now.

    "I'll be right back. Don't put him in a hospital, or he'll freak out. You don't want this thing freaking out." She rubs at her eyes. "He beat a worgen to death with another worgen after they'd done this to him. So... yeah. No hospitals. Where's my son?" 

    "Acolyte Alonika took him for a walk. They will be back shortly." 

    "Great. Have him sit with Terry. The wolf likes him. I'll be right back. ... Thank you." And poof, she's gone.

    There's a lot of dubious glancing shared between the cluster of acolytes and priestesses once she's gone, but they'll do as she's asked for the time being. Putting the little boy near the wolf while he's still a wolf is largely ignored, but once he'd shifted, Lucien was allowed to be nearby.

    Box is grabbed, along with anything that looks like it might be the key. A message is sent off to his doctor, letting her know that Terry was severely injured and lost a lot of blood, but he was magically healed, and Shedwyn doesn't really know how that will affect him or the effectiveness of his medication. She includes her own address in Darnassus in the post-script, in case they need to he found quickly. Once that's sent off, she returns with the box of his medicine. 

    Moving Terry as a human is far more viable than the wolf. Once the priestesses let her, she'd have him moved to her apartment.

    Thankfully, the priestesses want this mess out of their temple now please, so are more than happy to help Dwyn move him once she's returned. They've already gathered up his ruined clothing in the unlikely event they still wanted the pieces, and the one that had taken charge was about to ask Lucien where they were planning to go when Dwyn popped back in. Terry is out fuckin' cold, which an acolyte admits they encouraged for the time being. He moved less when he was properly unconscious.

    They get Terry upstairs into that stonking huge bed of hers. Lucien asks to be excused almost immediately, and Dwyn lets him go after a promise that he won't leave the apartment. 

    Dwyn only gets as far as trying all the keys she could find to open his lockbox, but ends up falling asleep sitting up.

    Normally it takes a bit of doing to rouse a guy who was not only sedated, but magically sedated. The upside to this being Terry is that doing it with magic actually makes it less effective, so Lucien won't have to struggle too horribly long before Terry is groaning his way back to something approximating wakefulness.

    Lucien continues to prod his face. It's the one area he's entirely certain poking Terry won't damage anything.  All that happened when he tried to wake Dwyn was that she fell over and bubbled herself, making it really difficult to poke her, but also letting the kid know she wasn't as dead as she looked.

    "Terry, please wake up. It's been hours..."

    "mnfit. .. stpit. .. stobbit." A groggy attempt to bat Lucien's hand away assures he is, in fact, alive and not crippled. "Lucien?"

    "Yes." He's perched on the edge of the bed. "Mom won't wake up. I promised not to leave the house, but there's no food and we're hungry. I know you're not supposed to move, so can I leave the house to go get food for everyone?"

    "Dwyn?" There's a moment of alarm when his mind catches up with recent events, and he tries to sit up. He succeeds, but it makes him hiss and hold his stitched up side. "...right. right. Yeah. Okay." His free hand comes up to push his hair out of his face, and he winces when he feels the crustiness of dry blood there. "...should be someplace nearby enough. Kin you make it in 30 minutes?"

    Lucien hums thoughtfully, but Praecormu is already nodding. "Apparently. Is there anything you would like aside from fruit?"

    "I'll be all right. Get what y'need for now an' we kin deal with proper groc'ry runs later when yer mum an' I aren't passed out an' covered in gross." He isn't about to tell a ten year old and a young dragon that he isn't hungry after eating a worgen's throat meat.

    Lucien and Prae share a look. "Alright." And then they're off, leaving Terry alone with a woman who's slightly less dead than him (but significantly more dead to the world) and a bunch of trashy porn romance novels stashed in the headboard.

    By the time Lucien and Prae get back, Terry will have tried to get Dwyn into bed (hoping her bubble lets him move her at all without frying him), gone looking for a shower, then a tub, then evidence of a benevolent god, then the goddamned sink. He won't be very fluffy or shiny till later, but at least his hair will be bloodless by the time he lifts his head out of the water.

    Prae and Luc don't say a damned word while they eat raisins and watch Terry use the sink.

    The fact that his wound is probably seeping after he moved around as much as he did prolly isn't helping his disposition any.

    Lucien is not a complete idiot or asshole. As soon as he sees the blood seeping through the bandage over his sutures, "You're bleeding!"

     "Mm? ... yeah, prolly."

    "{Stupid idiot. Did you hit your head, too?}" Lucien grumbles and walks over to put his hands on Terry without permission. Unless quickly stopped, he's gonna try to at least stop the bleeding.

    "{Watch your mouth,} Lucien!"

    "{Shut your face, I wasn't even cursing,}" Lucien responds distractedly, closing his eyes and concentrating on trying to feel the wound to make sure he won't make things worse.

    Terry will wait until Lucien is actually done, because messing up magicking that's aimed directly at him seems unwise.

    It hurts at first, just a fraction of a second as the enchanted sutures and Terry's weird physiology reacting strangely to the magic. Lucien gasps and his hands twitch like he wants to yank them back, then the usual feeling of radiating warmth takes hold.

    "Nnkffff--" The effort he puts into not being the one to swear is immense, before he's allowed to settle.

    Lucien removes his hands a few seconds later. "... That stopped the bleeding, but you should probably see a real healer. You should also change that bandage."

    Terry lifts his head from the water, pushes his hair off his face, then turns around and stares down at Lucien.

    Lucien stares wide-eyed back up at him. Kid doesn't know what he did or said.

    "You don't talk t'me like tha', boyo. 'Stupid idiot,' pff. Yer mum gets away with tha' crap because she's not ten."

    He shifts uncomfortably, then looks down at his feet and nods.

    "Somethin' else y'oughta say instead?"

    "... I'm sorry?"

    "Askin' a question?"

    "I don't know?"

    "Are you sorry or not? Pretty simple thin'."

    The kid shudders. "Yes. I'm sorry."

    "Good." Terry gingerly touches his ribs. "Thank you fer 'elpin' me."

    Lucien doesn't look up, just nods.

    "Don't be a dick about it next time. We get enough o' tha' when yer mum's right."

    "{Yes-} Yes, sir."

    He pats Lucien's shoulder and pushes away from the sink, heading back up to check on Dwyn. "Sorry t'day's been a mess, by th' way."

    Lucien grunts. "Wait." He goes to get an trio of apples from his grocery bag: a red, a gold, and a green. "For you. You like apples, right? All the books say you have to eat." Kid still doesn't look at him, even while holding the apples up for him.

He pauses, watching the kid move, and tilts his head as he picks up a golden apple. "'Ey. We're all right, Lucien. It's done, y'apologized, y'meant it, we're good. Okay?"

    "Uh-huh."

    "Mm." He takes a big obnoxious bite out of his apple, crunching with a great deal of satisfaction on his face. Lucien turns and leaves the apples on the kitchen counter.

    "If I kin wake yer mum, we'll go get dinner in a bit. I'll try not t'bleed all over th' place." With that, he goes to check on Dwyn.

    Dwyn is twitching and whimpering when Terry gets upstairs.

    "Babygirl?" He's quiet, but not so much that he'd be easily missed, as he approaches the bedside. She gave no response. There might be a bit of prayer running through his head that the stupid and unfair part of their week is over before he reaches out to touch her shoulder. "Dwyn."

    She shivers when he touches her, but the twitching stops. The whimpering slowly shifts pitch to be more like mumbling.

    "{Come back to me, my sky.}"

    The mumbling stops, and she places her hand over his. Otherwise doesn't seem to be awake.

    He sighs and sits down at the head of the bed, running his thumb across her fingers. "Been a mad fuckin' coupla days, babygirl."

    Her eyelids flutter when he sits, but she still doesn't open them. When he speaks, she sighs, "Why are you out of bed?"

    "Lucien needed feedin' an' then I was awake an' covered in muck. You needed th'bed more'n I did."

    "Your insides were outside. Please lie down."

    "I need a shower before I peel my skin off just t'make th'itchin' stop, Dwyn."

    She gropes blindly for him, and when she finds him, he probably wishes he hadn't said anything. But hey, at least he's clean now!

    "Ff--" There has been entirely too much magic done to him today, and he's all kinds of jittery now. "Dammitall."

    She does herself next. "Sleep." She finally opens her eyes to look up at him. "Or kiss me, and then sleep. Please?"

    "We need t'get food in this place or yer boy's gonna eat th' furniture."

    Closing her eyes, Shedwyn sighs. She sits up the way he should - like every movement is a trial in and of itself.. She glares at him a moment, then knee-walks closer to pull him into a kiss.

    There's no attempt to stop that, since he wanted a kiss rather badly now. His breath is a bit better than it could have been thanks to that apple and him gargling an awful lot of water earlier. "Sorry, love." Like Leon, he pronounces that just a little differently from 'luv.' "'E already woke me up t'ask t'go out an' get some stuff once. Doubt 'e'll wait fer permission again."

    She rests her forehead on his shoulder. "Let's never do this again."

    "Agreed." His fingers brush gently through her hair a few times before he sighs. "When this bullfuck'ry is over, I'm gonna propose on th' spot. While th'other one's body is still coolin' on th' ground in front of us."

    She chuffs out an attempt at a laugh. "We'll see about that."

    "I will fashion a ring o' bones if I 'ave to."

    "Such a romantic." She pats his chest. "For now, though, I'd best go get some groceries, while you get some more rest."

    "Please. I am beggin' you. Begging you. Give me a bathtub."

    She hesitates, but then her fingertips ghost in a circle around his bandages wound. "Is it alright to get this wet?"

    "I cannot put int' words 'ow much I don't care."

    "... No. No, I'm pretty sure you shouldn't get them wet for at least two days, love."

    "Dwyn, I don't 'ave th' clearest recollection o' th' past twelve hours but I'm almost positive I nearly died an' prolly ate somethin' while it was still alive. I would really, really like t' bathe."

    "... If I summon the tub for you, will you promise not to get that wet?"

    "I cannot promise anythin' I need t' submerge myself in 'ot water an' not move a while please."

    "... Then no."

    "Dwyn, please. I dunked my 'ead in th' fuckin' sink an' you did yer magicky thin' an' it's not enough."

    Shedwyn pushes herself away from him. "Terry, you will make yourself sick, and then I will have to take you to the Temple again. Is that what you really want?"

    He digs his fingers up into his hair and gets to his feet, starting to circle the room and making noises only properly described as 'fuming.' "I feel like I'm fuckin' covered in things an' I just need it off!"

    "I get that, hon, but- ugh." She scrubs at her face. "Alright, compromise? You come with us to get food. When we get back, you can sit in the tub and I will scrub for as long as you need. How's that?"

    Given the agitation he's exhibiting, it's probably not just a minor thing that he'd feel better about and more on the order of the kind of compulsion that shaving has turned into. He keeps walking for a few more steps before he makes himself stop and turn back to her. "Yeah. Yeah okay. Promise?"

    "Promise." She relaxes for a fraction of a second and is almost asleep again, but she snaps back awake and hops to her feet. She pulls a vial out of the air, downs the contents, and leaves the vial on the headboard. She head for the closet first, tossing out some spare clothes for him, and stripping unceremoniously out of her current grubby clothes and shrugging hurriedly into her standard, flashy robe. "Food first. I'm thinking Pandarian vegetarian stir-fry for the next few days. Maybe some vegetable stew. And mmm, pie. Pecan and apple pie both sound amazing right now."

    They really both needed to sleep. He'd been able to crash, but two wolfenings and a near-fatal wound sort of ruined the effects of what rest he'd gotten. As it is, he's sort of muddling along and nodding with everything she says just now, watching her dress. "Okay."

    She's a little surprised to see him not dressing when she turns back. She goes to grab the shirt she tossed onto the bed for him, but doesn't quite make it before she stops to ask, "Or I could just summon a mountain of fritters and brownies for Lucien and we could get a bath and go back to bed."

    "But y'wanted me not to yet." Normally that'd be the sort of thing he said just to be contrary, but the events of the last 48 hours or so have finally had a chance to set in for a nice solid ass-kicking in his head.

    She sighs and moves closer, and while she's shaking slightly from how much energy she suddenly has, the exhaustion is quite clear in her eyes as she reaches up to cup either side of his face. "Semi-bath. Half-bath. Mostly you sitting in some nearly-scalding water while I scrub for you because god damn if I don't know exactly how you feel right now."

    His eyes close and he does his best not to lean his entire weight into her. "Yes please."

    He can hear her lips part to say something, but she just blows out a noisy breath. After a second, "Get undressed." She summons the tub next to the window, then hurries on downstairs. "Start it filling and get in, would you? I'll be right back."

    If he had the energy for it he'd be looking at that tub like he wanted to have sex with it right now, but he'll settle for getting out of the remains of his clothes without falling down. "Yes'm."

    True to her word, she's back in under a minute, bustling around, putting out towels, pouring sweet-smelling soap into the water, stopping the water when it's gotten as high as she's comfortable with, and then finally shucking her clothes and climbing into the bath with him. Also true to her word, she starts scrubbing. Gently at first, then gradually harder. The only thing she says for a while is reminding him to tell her if she's being too rough.

    Once he's sat in the tub and there's water in it, he completes the shutdown process and just lets all his muscles untense as much as he can. Answers come in quiet grunts, and protests in slightly louder grunts and a small flick of his hand. The most he tries to do on his own is wash his hair, because putting his head into unsoapy water had just made it feel grosser somehow.

    She allows him to soap up his hair on his own, but when it comes time to wash it she makes him lean back so she can pour water over his head. At one point she says, "I'm sorry," but it's weirdly out of place as all she's doing at the time is rubbing his back. She says nothing else unless she gets worried he's going to fall asleep in the tub.

    It seems like he very well could after she puts his head on her pillows, but he exhales like he's been holding his breath for an hour and touches her wrist with the tips of two fingers. "Why?"

    "... 'why' what?"

    "Why're you sorry?"

    "... this is all my fault."

    "...pretty sure I'm at least 'alf faulty 'ere."

    "If I'd had you or Leon take me to their graves instead of Pin..."

    "Can't be anythin'..." He trails off, frowning as he mouths what he just said, sighs, and starts over. "Can't do anythin' for it now. An' th' stupid part's done. I know now, an' we 'ave a plan."

    Nodding, she kisses the top of his head. Teasingly, she asks, "Am I still allowed to feel guilty for a bit?"

    "Only til we get 'ome an' I've melted Doc down fer materials."

    "Pft. Heh." She thinks he's joking.

    "Start from scratch. Proper."

    "You don't have to melt him down to- wait, are you serious?"

    "Told you. Don't wanna see it ever again."

    She tangles her fingers with his so she can squeeze his hand. "Give it a few weeks, hm? For me? As often as I give you shit about paying more attention to him than to me, that gun has saved both our lives more times than I can count."

    "Took too many I want back. Almost took another one."

    She freezes a moment, then nods. "Sure."

    He squeezes her hand this time. "What?"

    "Sure, we'll melt it down."

    "...d'you really want me t'wait? Important?"

    "Nah."

    "Stiffened up."

    "...I didn't think about the fact that it... that your mum..."

    "You did. Yesterday."

    "Yeah. That's why I feel even more dumb right now."

    "Wasn't goin' fer dumb. Just...y'were right."

    "... yeah."

    There's a silence, eventually broken up by a soft huff of amusement. "... you fin'ly won fer my affections over 'im. Heh."

    "Pft. Maybe, but you'll have a new baby on the way in no time at all."

    "We'll see."

( @shedwyn )

[onceuponaprime]

Drautos/Cor: I. "Broken Glass"

Man this is an old prompt oops but proof that I do get around to them eventually. Kind of ended up longer than I expected, and the light smut was a surprise. These two are so bad at feelings…

Also on AO3Rated M

Cor knows he’s taking a gamble coming here, but he doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice. He’d been to the old apartment building a handful of times, each visit more charged than the last. The stairs creaked in odd spots, the lights flickered in the hall, and Cor had yet to be here when the building didn’t look like it was on its last legs. It wasn’t his place to comment on the place, regardless if he knew the captain of the Kingsglaive could do better. Huffing a bit from the trek up the winding stairs Cor arrives on the right floor and adjusts the collar of his coat. This could be a mistake, probably was a mistake, showing up here unannounced with his only reasoning being a bad feeling in his gut. Worst case scenario Titus slams the door in his face, but at least he’d know the man was ok. It wasn’t even five and no one had seen Titus since he’d finished his morning duties and disappeared at noon. It wasn’t like him to take half a day off, to just up and disappear with a few shrugs from glaives as an explanation, or to ignore any messages from Cor and other staff. Something was off, and Cor was going to figure it out.

When he reaches the door he hesitates, unsure if this is the best plan or if he’s better off just leaving. He could just shoot Titus a text and wait until tomorrow, but the uneasiness gnawing at his gut won’t leave so with only some reluctance Cor raises his hand and knocks.

“Drautos you in there?” No answer. He knocks again, a little harder this time, voice raising just a bit. “Drautos?” Silence on the other side. The man probably wasn’t even home, he was worried about nothing. The door across the hall creeks, and a curious face peers out. The kid’s expression changes when he sees him, something almost like relief in his eyes. Cor recognizes him, hard not to when the one time they’d met was on his first walk of shame out of Titus’s apartment. Mika was his name. From what little Titus had told him the kid was his neighbor across the hall, the one that brought his groceries once a week.

“It’s you!” The kid exclaims before Cor can say anything and runs up to him, wringing his hands nervously. He looked worried. Shit.

“Something wrong, kid?” The boy stops, shifts from foot to foot before looking at the door between them.

“I heard a crash, but no one answered when I knocked, so I uh… Mister Drautos doesn’t like to be bothered so I… I was afraid to get help,” he says, almost ashamed.  “I was waiting for.. I don’t know, but you’re the only person I’ve ever seen visit, I’m sure he’d want to see you.”

If the whole exchange didn’t happen so fast Cor probably would have felt embarrassed, would have thought about the kid’s words more. As it was concern was now tight in his stomach, and his only real focus was figuring out what was going on.

“Slow down, kid, it’s alright, he’s probably fine.” He says it to assure the kid as much as himself. “When did you hear the crash?”

“Uh, maybe half an hour ago? Not too long, but still.”

“Hear anything besides that?”

“No, sir. Just the door slamming when Mister Drautos got home today. He’s never home early.” Cor sighs and looks at the door again, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. When he looks down again Mika’s giving him an expectant look. “Are you gonna go inside?” His brows rise high enough for Mika to flush and look away.

“I don’t have a key, kid.” To emphasize his point he jiggles the door knob. He doesn’t expect it to be smooth, but it’s obvious the door is unlocked, and he masks his surprise quickly.

“Um, guess he forgot to lock the door,” the kid states even though it’s obvious. Cor’s almost grateful for the fact, it’d be more complicated otherwise.

Cor tightens his hold on the doorknob and takes a deep breath.

“Drautos?” When he once more receives no response he lets worry win over logic and slowly opens the door, but before he can inspect the small living space there’s a dark blurr arcing through the air and he pulls the door back, arm outstretched to keep Mika behind him. Glass shatters against the opposite side of the wall making Mika flinch.

“Go home, kid, I’ve got this.” The kid nods and scampers across the hall and slips back into his apartment, poking his head out a moment later.

“Let me know if he’s okay?”

“Sure, kid.” Mika seems satisfied with the answer, nodding as he closes the door again and leaves Cor alone in the hall, fingers flexing around the doorknob before he tries again.

“Drautos, it’s me, I’m coming inside,” he calls and this time when the door swings inward there’s nothing to defend against.

Broken glass lays strewn about the entrance and Cor steps over it gingerly to take in his surroundings. The small wooden side table that used to house the old radio Titus had was in splintered pieces in the middle of the small living space, broken bits of radio mixed in with the debris. Titus himself was in the corner, left leg kicked out in front of himself, arm draped over it, hand empty but still curled as if it was missing the bottle now shattered on the floor. His other hand was cradled in his lap, right knee drawn up to protect it. In all honesty he looked like shit, hair a mess atop his head, face flushed, and eyes glazed and unfocused.

“Are you drunk?” Cor moves closer, unable to slip of his shoes like usual with the floor turned into such a sharp little minefield.

“Does it matter?” Titus slurs, head tilted back to look at him but making no move from his sprawl on the floor.

Cor approaches slowly, picking his way through the mess on the floor until he’s standing above Titus. The man’s head rolls back and Titus glares up at him weekly, forced to lean back further into the wall to see him. There’s a lot to take in, his appearance disheveled and messy, the sweatpants and old shirt are freshly stained with spilled whiskey, the change in posture also exposes the way Titus was cradling his right hand close, and now Cor can see the hints of awful bruising on the side of his hand.

“You’re hurt,” Cor says as he crouches down. Titus flinches away, curling in on himself slightly.

“It’s fine,” he says, glaring at him weakly, and Cor matches his stare as he carefully bats his left arm away. Defeated Titus holds his right arm out, and Cor sees the extent of the damage, blood oozing slowly from the side of his hand where he must have crushed the radio, a shocking show of brute strength if Cor wasn’t more concerned with whether the hand was broken or not. He grasps Titus’s wrist carefully in his hands as he inspects the damage.

“You have any medical supplies?” Titus takes a while to respond, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Bathroom cabinet,” he says after a tense beat of silence.

“Alright come on then.” Cor stands and tugs on the wrist in his hand until Titus finally forces himself to his feet. Almost immediately he sways, staggering on unsteady feet until Cor is forced to wrap an arm around his waist to support his weight. What should be a short walk takes twice as long when he’s forced to drag Titus with him, the man now sullen and quiet.

Opening the door is tricky but Cor manages, propping Titus up between the door frame and the wall so he can rifle through the cabinet with both hands. It’s a tight fit for two grown men of their size, but Cor tries to ignore it. Besides the basics, the cabinet is rather barren, and Cor is surprised he even finds a bottle of antiseptic and a small roll of gauze. He would prefer more, but at this point he’ll take what he can get. Dustin was the real field medic, able to save a person’s life in the harshest conditions with the most simple of tools, his own talent in that field wasn’t much, but he could clean and dress a wound and that’s all he needed now.

Titus doesn’t fight him when he takes his wrist again and holds his hand over the sink, doesn’t flinch when he wets one of the nearby hand towels and dabs lightly at the wound. Cor tries not to look at him, keeping his focus on the task at hand, but every so often he steals a glance. Throughout it all Titus’s expression remains unchanged, eyes glued to their hands as Cor works, a sharp inhale the only reaction when Cor pours a generous amount of antiseptic on the wound.

“I’m going to have to touch your hand to make sure you didn’t break anything,” he says and Titus says nothing, hardly even shrugs, and Cor just sighs and as gently as he can, begins running his fingers over the bones in his hand, dark bruises standing out starkly against his own pale skin. Nothing shifts beneath his careful fingers and no sharp bumps interrupt his careful inspection. “Doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but you should be careful until the bruises fade.” Again Titus says nothing, simply lets him wrap his injured hand in silence. When he’s done he tucks the end of the gauze between the wrappings gently and lets go, but Titus makes no move, simply stares at his hand with a faraway look. Cor sighs and wraps his arm around the man’s middle again. “You need rest, c’mon.”

The trek to the small bed on the other side of the apartment is no easier than the one to the bathroom was, but Cor gets them there without incident. He removes his arm from around Titus and gets ready to ease him down on the bed when the man snakes an arm around his waist and pulls them flush, wobbling from the sudden shift before they steady. Warm breath ghosts across his neck smelling sharply of alcohol and he shudders, the tables turned abruptly.

“What are you doing, Drautos?” The question is quiet, but it thunders in the silence.

“Isn’t this why you came here?” Lips brush his ear and trail down, kisses that are sloppy wet and impossibly soft. “It’s why you always come here.”

“You’re drunk,” Cor reminds him, but he doesn’t push him away. Titus leans back slightly, eyes clear and dark.

“And?”

“And you’re not yourself,” Cor insistes, planting a hand on the man’s chest and holding firm. His eyes stray to the destruction in the middle of the living space, pointedly trying to ignore Titus and his advances. “What happened, Drautos?” In an instant Titus’s demeanor changes.

“I don’t want your pity,” he snaps, but the anger in his words doesn’t match the look in his eyes.

“I’m not giving it.” They stand there for what is easily a minute, staring each other down, stubbornly waiting for the other to give in first. Much to Cor’s surprise it’s Titus who does it, sagging until he drops onto the bed unceremoniously, head in his hands.

“It’s the same every year,” he mutters. “The same damn thing every year. My home burned, I watched it, saw people die, I can still feel it.” He shudders, lets his hands fall away to lay shaking in his lap. When he finally looks up at Cor it’s with the face of a broken man, and Cor feels his heart clench in his chest. “They play a broadcast on the anniversary every year, to talk about the fall of my home, of Cavaugh…” Cor waits while he tries to compose himself. He’s never seen Titus vulnerable like this, alcohol making him open in a way that hurts him to see. “It turned into a debate and-” He stops abruptly, like he’d finally realized his own openness, jaw clenched.

“You broke it,” Cor finishes. Without thinking too hard on it he moves to sit next to Titus on the bed. “I don’t pity you, Drautos, but no man can go unaffected from something like that, it’s only human. Sometimes you lose your temper, it happens.”

“Why did you come here, Leonis?”

“Honestly, I was worried about you.” Titus tenses and Cor doesn’t dare look over at him.  “I can go,” he adds. “You’re fine now, I can go.” He stands, barely makes it a step forward before Titus reaches out and grabs his arm.

“Stay,” he whispers, “please. I don’t… I don’t want to think, and the silence…” Cor turns to look at him, cheeks flushed with slowly sobering shame and it tugs at him in a way it shouldn’t. He moves carefully, slow enough that even Titus and his addled senses could stop him if he needed to, and cups his cheek, slowly lowering himself to straddle his lap. With one hand he tilts his chin up, forcing Titus to look him in the eye.

“Alright, I’ll stay, and we don’t have to think about it. It’s what we always do.” When he leans forward to kiss him Titus tastes of cheap whiskey and regret, but he doesn’t let it deter him. This was why he came here as infrequently as he did, Titus was right about that, and now at least it would provide a much needed distraction for both of them.

When their kisses grow more heated Titus wraps his arms around them and shifts until Cor’s back meets the stiff mattress and he’s forced to tear his lips away. If there wasn’t such urgency behind the movements it’d be ridiculous, he’s still wearing his shoes, but he’s not given the time to feel strange about it. It’s a slight struggle, almost comical, for Titus to remove his top, awkward as the action is with one hand. Cor doesn’t try and help him, simply runs his hands up his sides, digging his nails in with just enough pressure to make Titus hiss. Just the way he likes it. Titus leans on his right arm, letting his injured hand rest close to Cor’s head as he uses his left to ruck up his shirt above his chest, head dropping to give graceless attention to the newly exposed skin. Their hands fumble against each other as they both make to free each other from their pants. It’s easy to tug Titus’s sweats down enough to expose his length, but Titus makes a low frustrated noise akin to a growl as he struggles with the zipper on Cor’s jeans.

“Let me,” he says, is free hand finding its way into that messy dark hair and pulling slightly. Titus relents, and he’s able to pop the button and slip the zipper down, reaching under the band of his briefs and freeing his slowly hardening cock.

Not wasting a moment Titus bats his hand away and takes hold of him, pulling a gasp from his lips. There’s little finesse as Titus strokes him, no gentleness in the way he tugs him to hardness, urged on by the gasps Cor can’t contain.

“Wish I could fuck you,” Titus says, releasing his grip to press closer until their lengths brush together. Cor arches into him with a moan, core clenching with want, hand teasing both their lengths until he slips it around and pulls Titus closer with a grip on his ass.

“Next time,” he promises, arching up, seeking friction.

Like he always does when their intimate Titus takes the hint, wrapping his calloused hand around them both, pumping them both as he begins to rock his hips, creating the perfect friction. Cor lets his hand join in, their fingers meeting and bumping as they work each other closer to completion. His thumb stretches and swipes over the weeping head of Titus’s cock, and he comes with a strangled groan. Alcohol always makes it fast, and when Titus’s hand stills as he rides out his pleasure, Cor chases his own until he finally hits his own limit, their come making a mess of his stomach. Titus drops, a dead wait on top of him until his wriggling and shoving gets the larger man to roll to his side, a tight fit on the narrow bed. Cor sits up and stands, only a bit unsteady as Titus flops onto his back and immediately takes up the space he left.

“I’m gonna clean up,” he says, and Titus only grunts in response, eyes fluttering to a close. Cor sighs and makes his way to the bathroom, wetting the remaining hand towel and wiping the mess of come from his abdomen. When he gets back to Titus he’s asleep, something he definitely needed. He doesn’t stir when Cor leans over him to clean him off and tuck him back into his pants, not even when he rolls him onto his side, no small feat.

There’s a fair many thoughts vying for attention in his mind and Cor ignores all of them as he sets about fixing up the small apartment. The small room near the front of the apartment ends up being the utility closet, and he grabs the old broom that must have come with the place and sets to work. He’s grateful now that he didn’t bother taking off his shoes as he carefully sweeps the broken glass around the front of the apartment into the dustpan, depositing it into the trash with a clinking rain. The sound doesn’t wake Titus, he doubts anything will until he’s slept off the dangerous mix of hurt and drink, so Cor doesn’t worry too much about keeping quiet. The splintered pieces of the end table and crushed radio are easier to pick up, and he sweeps up after the larger pieces are in the trash just to keep himself busy.

Titus had asked him to stay, but damn if it makes him a coward he can’t. Titus had been too open, too vulnerable, and Cor feels like he’s seen a side of him he had no right to see. Best to leave now, before he wakes, now that Cor knows he’d be alright. Still it doesn’t stop him from pulling a glass from the cabinet of the small kitchen and filling it with water from the tap. He doesn’t think too much about it when he sets it on the bedside table, Titus snoring soft and oblivious as he covers him with the blanket on the foot of the bed, even though he has to tug it out from under Titus’s legs first. A knot lodges in his throat and he swallows past it, making it out of the apartment with a sudden speed, making sure the door will lock behind him. When it clicks shut he lets out a long breath, head resting against the wood. Damn why did everything have to be so complicated.

He doesn’t let himself stay there for long, makes his way across the hall and knocks lightly on the door. Mika opens the door just a crack, relief on his face when he sees it’s him.

“How’s Mister Drautos?” Cor sighs, rubs at the bridge of his nose.

“He’s gonna be fine, kid.”

“Was he happy to see you?” Cor says nothing, hands balling into fists at his sides before they relax again.

“I dunno, kid,” he replies with a shrug, turning to walk away before the boy asks him anything else. “But he’ll be fine.” There’s more he could say but he stops himself, leaves it at nodding goodbye and making his way down the hall.

If he tries he can pretend he’s not running away, but though he tries to keep his thoughts from straying down that path they do it anyway. Maybe he was running away, but it in all honesty he had no idea what he was running from. But maybe that was a lie too.