#Army Medical Library
Photo
After books had been accessioned, library staff cataloged the materials, adding authors, titles, and subjects, and then describing the books physically, by size, format, and length, so the content of these publications would be known to both staff and researchers, ca. late 1940s.
#Army Medical Library#Vintage#Retro#Library#Libraries#Librarian#Librarians#Book#Books#Bookish#1940#40s#1940s#card catalog#Index#photography#black and white#library wor
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Ruth Martin by National Library of Medicine
Via Flickr:
Collection: Images from the History of Medicine (IHM) Publication: [1944?] Format: Still image Subject(s): Librarians, Libraries, Medical Library Materials, National Library of Medicine (U.S.), Army Medical Library (U.S.) Genre(s): Portraits Abstract: Interior view: Ruth Martin, holding rolls of film, is sitting on a table next to a stack of periodicals in the reference division photoduplication section. A world map is in the background. Extent: 1 photographic print : 26 x 21 cm. Technique: black and white NLM Unique ID: 101445621 NLM Image ID: A017033 Permanent Link: resource.nlm.nih.gov/101445621
#Army Medical Library#photographic print#Librarians#Libraries#Medical Library Materials#Ruth Martin#periodicals#reference division#photoduplication section. world map#Public Domain#Still Image#Prints and Photographs#P&P#National Library of Medicine#NLM#Images from the History of Medicine#IHM#History of Medicine Division#HMD#National Institutes of Health#NIH#Archives of Medicine#NLM Digital Collection#flickr#book worm
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To Care For A Woman
Chapter 4
Simon Riley x Reader
Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...
Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
You were beginning to feel like Simon was hiding something. When he went out on missions he was insistent that you didn’t contact him. At all.
You never once wondered if there was another woman involved, Simon was too good to you for it to be that.
He was just so closed off when it came to the topic of work, and you weren’t sure why. Maybe he was battling PTSD, and trying not to let it color your relationship.
It had been six months since you had married Simon, two of which he’d spent deployed somewhere. Your parents had asked if you were coming home for the holidays, and you told them you would be working.
They still believed you had a job. In a way you did. When Simon wasn’t home you did light house chores, now that Dr. Radcliffe had cleared you for more movement.
Your leg was still weak, and running was out of the question. You’d begged Simon to let you get a dog but he’d bit his lip, given you a pained look, and explained that it wasn’t fair to the animal if you couldn’t care for it properly.
You’d nodded in agreement but it had hurt all the same. You were lonely when he was gone.
“So what are we doing for the holidays?” You asked as Simon washed the dinner dishes and handed them to you to be put away.
He shrugged as he scrubbed pasta sauce off one of the plates. “Haven’t celebrated in a while,” he admitted, handing you the next clean dish.
“Do you ever visit your family?” You asked.
“Have you ever been to Cambridge?” He went about scrubbing the cup your tea was in.
“I’ve never been to the UK, just the parts of Europe the 141 has taken me. Is that where you’re from?” You asked in excitement.
“No, I grew up in Manchester,” he said, passing you the cup.
“Is your family in Cambridge now?” You asked, feeling as if the conversation had gotten slightly off topic.
“No.”
You blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend the holidays in Manchester with your family?”
“It doesn’t have to be Cambridge, London is nice too,” he added, drying his hands on the spare dish towel. “We’ve got a few weeks to decide anyhow.” He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.
You gaped slightly, blinking in confusion. What just happened? Had he really just swept your questions about his family under the rug with the distraction of a holiday vacation?
Maybe it was only fair. You’d made no effort to introduce Simon to your parents, but that was different. You were a daughter, not a son. If your parents found out their little baby girl had been injured, and married off to some strange man, your father would blow a fuse.
You knew very little about Simon though. The only thing you knew about him was his strange relationship with Ghost. Why was someone as sweet as Simon even mates with someone like Ghost?
~
Simon had started taking you into town once a week. He didn’t like to keep you cooped up, and Dr. Radcliffe had warned him you’d end up in trauma therapy if he kept you isolated during recovery.
Simon was relieved you didn’t display much interest in going to the mall. You were perfectly happy to go to the park and pet dogs, or go to the bookstore for hours on end.
You were begging to accumulate a small library, and sooner or later he’d need to build you a bookshelf.
“Out for the weekly book haul I see,” Jesse, the store owner said as you approached her counter, most of your books in Simon’s arms. You grinned at her as she scanned your latest finds. “You’re practically keeping me in business at this point.”
You shrugged and gave Jesse a bright smile. “You had new stuff in the gardening section, thought it might be helpful for the herbs we just planted,” you said, flashing Simon a grin.
He didn’t give you much of a reaction, but that was normal when he was in public. He wasn’t exactly fond of strangers, but he tolerated Jesse for the free cups of tea she bestowed on the two of you when you sat down to read in her cafe.
She’d never asked for the details of your relationship with Simon, but she always chuckled softly when he handed over his debit card without so much as a grumble for your somewhat expensive taste in books. A man that supported his partner's love of books was a good man in her opinion.
Jesse placed your books in a bag and handed them to Simon with a smile, unbothered by his flat expression and aversion to talking more than what was necessary.
“Have you decided where you want to go for Christmas yet?” He asked as he helped you load into his truck.
“Maybe we should stay home this year. I was just thinking it’d be harder to travel with my leg, and you already don’t like crowds, I can’t imagine how busy London must be this time of year…” you trailed off as Simon buckled into the driver’s seat. “But I would like to put up a tree!” You added.
Simon raised a brow at you as if he were amused by your declaration. “A tree?”
“Yeah! A Christmas tree! And we could have some of your teammates over-“
“They’ll be with their families,” he stated quickly.
Your smile fell. Oh. Right. “Maybe just the Captain then?”
Simon bit his lip but nodded. Price was aware of the situation, and the least likely to spill the beans. He supposed inviting his Captain over for a holiday meal would be alright.
“Speaking of family,” you began carefully, “Can we stop by the post office next week? I’d like to ship my parents' Christmas presents,” you requested softly.
Simon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like to see your family?” He asked, and you shook your head.
“No, I…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“You haven’t told them.” It wasn’t a question. He’d heard your phone calls with them. They still thought you were working for Price.
“It’s…it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. It’s just that I don’t want them to worry, and I know that they will.” Simon nodded, grasping your hand gently in his. “I’ll figure something out…eventually.”
“I have to go for a mission next week, but I’ll be back before Thanksgiving. We can put up the tree when I get back. I’ll…leave the truck with you, you can make it to town on your own?” He asked.
Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to even offer, but now that you thought about it, it was a little ridiculous to expect you to stay put while he was gone. It was your left leg that was injured after all, you could still drive.
“Yeah, I know the way. Thanks, Simon,” you said, offering him a brilliant smile.
“Just be careful,” he reminded you. He’d leave a pistol with you just in case. The holidays were always more dangerous. He was starting to regret not getting you that dog. He would have to look into putting up a fence, but that was a long term project that he’d need a longer break from work to accomplish. Like hell he was gonna pay some stranger to come out to his home where his wife was to do the job.
Once the truck was parked and your books were unloaded, Simon went about doing his chores while you made lunch. At some point you heard the buzz of his saw outside. He seemed to always have some sort of project going.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the other night as you went about piling chicken salad on two croissants. Why was he so closed off concerning his family?
You eyed you bedroom door, wondering if you should just leave it alone, or put your detective skills to work.
You left your plates on the counter as you slipped into your bedroom. Simon didn’t keep many personal items, therefore your nightstand was always a little more cluttered than his between your laptop, medications, and other odds and ends.
You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. All you really knew about Simon was his name and that he’d grown up in Manchester. Your search would likely yield little result.
At least that was what you thought until you were starting at a death record. A death record for Simon Riley, bearing the same date of birth and identification information that was on your marriage certificate.
“Y/n?” You jumped, your head shooting up to see Simon in his sweaty work clothes standing in the doorway. “Gonna hop through the shower before lunch…everything alright?” He asked, noticing how pale you’d gone.
“I…um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You sputtered, closing your laptop screen. “I’ll go finish lunch,” you said, limping back into the kitchen.
Simon watched you, his head cocked to the side, before he shrugged, and stripped down to get a shower.
You tried to ignore the knots forming in your gut. Simon Riley was dead, and you had no unearthly clue who this man was. Did Ghost know? Had he unwittingly sent you right into the arms of someone dangerous, or was Ghost well aware of who Simon really was?
Your hands shook as you went about finishing the lunch preparations, and you quietly set the table, hyper aware of the other person in the house.
Simon was still in the shower, you had time to go back for your laptop. You quickly made your way into the bedroom, lifting the screen as you sat on the bed.
Your eyes scanned over the obituary with concern. Simon Riley…served in the royal army…died in a fire…no body…wait…no body?
You scrolled down a bit until you got to the photo at the bottom of the page. It was your Simon. You felt your throat tighten.
Why was your Simon supposedly dead? It made no sense. The man in the picture, albeit a little older, was currently showering in the bathroom.
You scanned through the rest of the obituary, noticing the mention of his family. Each name was highlighted, and you risked clicking on the name of the previous Mrs. Riley.
You felt like you were going to hurl when you were greeted with an even more morbid obituary. His entire family was gone. Murdered. Stolen right out from under him. It suddenly made sense. His overprotective nature was simply a trauma response. It still didn’t explain the falsified death certificate, but it was a start.
It wasn’t until you were staring into the photographed eyes of Tommy Riley that it clicked.
Tommy had brown eyes, practically identical to Simon’s. There was one other person you knew of with those eyes. One other person who’s voice sounded so similar to Simon’s, even if it was a little rougher.
Was Tommy…Ghost?
AN: OOOOOH Ya'll excited? We get spicy next chapter...
Tag List:
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@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok
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@novausstuff @copiasratscheese @i-feel-violated @itsagrimm
#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost mw2
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Planetswap-AU Outline!
Finally manged to finish the backstory-outlines for my planetswap-au!
I Lion El‘Johnson (Olympia):
The tyrant of Lochos received a vision that a child from the sky would take his throne and so he ordered his servants to kill the infant. But instead they gave the baby to a huntress, who went on to raise him as a girl. Many years later she meets Calliphone, the princess of Lochos who ran away, and while they slowly fell in love, they started planning the revolution.
III Fulgrim (Barbarus):
Beeing captured by the tyrannical overlord Necare, Fulgrim spent his whole life in a tower on the highest mountain of Barbarus. While beeing forced to work for Necare, the toxic atmosphere slowly but surely did irreversible damage to his lungs. When the Emporer finally came to Barbarus, Fulgrim was closer to death than live, and even after leaving the planet, he is in dire need of medical treatment.
IV Perturabo (Baal Secundus):
Perturabos pod was found by the mutants living in the desert and they raised him as one of their own. And seeing their suffering, he wanted to help. And he managed to, building houses and trying to improve medicine.
V Jagathai Dorn (Inwit):
The young Jaghatai was found by the patriarch of the house Dorn. Growing up amongst the feuding houses he soon learned the in and outs of both politics and polite society and became a master of artic warfare. It didn‘t take long for him to conquer the whole world and so he set to the stars, soon having taken over the whole of the Inwit-cluster.
VI Leman (Prospero):
After landing in the desert of Prospero, the planets psykic jackels led the infant to the city of Tizca. Roaming it‘s streets, Leman finally found a home in the cities great library. He learned the place of every book and despite beeing of great help to the people of Prospero, he always felt like a outsider due to his inability to use magic.
VII Rogal (Cthonia):
Rogal was found by one of Cthonias many gang-leaders, who quickly came to treat him as her own son. As the young primarch grew up, he realized what his mother was actually doing and in a fit of rage accidentally killed her. Terrified of what he did, Rogal ran away and hid out until the emporer arrived.
VIII Konrad (Caliban):
There are many strage creatures in the depth of Calibans forest and one of them is the Lady of the Lake. As beautifull as she is deadly and often accompanied by the Watchers in the Dark, she may help those mortals brave or foolish enough to seek her out. But if they are deemed unworthy, they may loose their heart to her.
IX Sanguinius Khan (Chogoris/Mundus Plannus):
Raised by a tribal leader, Sanguinius had a happy childhood until his father was killed by a enemy tribe. Gathering his own army, he set out for revenge and once he tasted blood, there was no going back. With both fear and diplomacy he united the warring tribes of the steppe, attracting the attention of the planets empires who soon managed to capture him. The day of his supposed execution, he killed the local emporer and fought his way back out, soon taking over the whole planet.
X Ferrus Manus (Terra):
Ferrus was raised by the Emporer himself or more accuratly, it was Malcador who did most of it. He traveled the stars ever since he was young and no, the Emporer definetly did not loose a teenage Ferrus, leading to him slaying a necron construct which coated his arms in living metal.
XII Angron Guilliman (Macragge):
Angron was raised by loving parents and had a very happy childhood. Thanks to his empathy-powers he came to greatly care about regular humans and so started to improve live for everyone. He also introduced proper democracy to Ultramar and started adopting every stray cat he meets.
XIII Roboute (Deliverance/Lycaeus):
Roboute grew up in the shadows, always hiding from the prison guards and helping prepare the slaves for the revolution. But it didn‘t work forever and he was caught. The sadistic guards were fascinated by the strange boy who was too big and healed too fast. But even after he escaped and the revolution suceeded, Roboute would never be the same again and still struggles to speak.
XIV Mortarion (Colchis):
When a especially bad drought hit Colchis, multiple children were sacrificed to their god of nature. Little Mortarion was the only one to return, no longer human and never to grow up.
XV Magnus the Red (Nocturne):
Nocturne has always been a unstable planet, the myriad of vulvanos and lavafields forcing it‘s inhabitants to constantly move. The young Magnus soon realized that he had the power to controll both fire and the earth itself. He learned how to fight the planets vulcanos and turned the deathworld into a much more hospitable place.
XVI Horus (Nuceria):
Horus was lucky: the high-rider who found him decided to keep him instead of throwing the child into the figthing pits. He grew up in luxury and later used his influence not to improve live for everyone but to have good time, doing drugs and playing gladiator. To him it was just a game, afterall he is a primarch, he wouldn‘t loose.
XVII Lorgar (Medusa):
Lorgar grew up in a secluded monestary high in Medusas mountains. As she got older, she realized that she is not a man, which led to her beeing kicked out of the monestary. Wandering the lands she had to learn who she actually is and find a more healthy relationship to her religion,
XVIII Vulkan of the Russ (Fenris):
Vulkan was found by a young dragon, who miraculously didn‘t kill the infant, instead taking care of the young boy. As he got older, his interest in humans grew until he decided to join the nearby human village. Quickly discovering his talent as a smith and warrior -as well as a love for everything shiny- he became the leader of his people.
XIX Corvus Corax (Chemos, kind of):
Corvus landed on the planet of Chemos, but they didn‘t stay there for long: harlequins found the infant wandering about and after a bit of godly intervention accepted the infant as one of their own. They learned the harlequins dances and stories, how to use eldar weaponery and about Cegorachs mysterious plans as they travelled the webway. And for the story to advance, they need to leave their adoptive family… at least for now.
XX Alpharius and Omegon (Nostramo):
While they landed on a absolutly horrible planet, they were together. Speaking a language only the two of them can understand, they did their best to survive as so many street urchins did, and maybe improve that hellhole of a planet.
#warhammer 40k#primarch#fanfic#Planetswap AU#lion el'jonson#fulgrim#perturabo#jaghatai khan#rogal dorn#konrad curze#sanguinius#ferrus manus#angron#leman russ#roboute guilliman#mortarion#magnus the red#horus lupercal#lorgar aurelian#vulkan#corvus corax#alpharius
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what are White Lily and Elder Faerie jobs in (modern au) other than babysitting for Dark cacao and pure vanilla kids.
The fact that dark cacao is a full time nurse and pure vanilla is part-time is oddly ironic because pure vanilla healer.
I feel like if Dark Cacao had a Job that match him is being a general at a army boot camp.
I imagine White Lily works as a Professor and gives lectures on either History or Biology.
Elder Faerie strikes me as an artsy kind of guy, since the Faerie Folk in game seems to be very sophisticated based on their culture shown so far (eg. their extensive library, their emphasis on singing/music, the architecture etc)
So I think he is also a Professor, maybe Art-History? Something like that.
And they kinda met through that.
About PureCacao!
I may have worded it in a stupid way (more than likely), but Cacao does *not* work in the medical field.
I imagined him as an Ex-Cop that now owns his own Home-Security company and gives Kumdo (Korean Sword-fighting) lessons on the side.
Vanilla is mainly a stay-at-home parent, but he has a degree in healthcare and worked in the healthcare sector before giving up work to focus on their kids.
He still occasionally volunteers part time, but not more than once or twice a week.
Also thank u thank u for asking me stuff about this AU bc I need to talk about it more- :,D
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you’d come back to me ✧ anakin skywalker
angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)
request: You're Padmes little sister and some of the clones start to take a liking to you and this enrages anakin for some reason???? He realizes oh shit, I like padmes little sister not padme 🤯 - @captainsbestgal
pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!naberrie!medic!reader
summary: anakin skywalker is in love with padmé amidala. he has been for years now. but, then why does her sister vex him so? surely he’s not pining after the wrong one… right?
word count: 5,929
warnings?: anakin and padmé are not married, idiots in love, jealousy, mutual pining, not proofread
While you were grateful for the Naberrie family taking you in, considering you a daughter of their own while sharing no blood relation to them, in a lot of ways, you often felt like a complete outsider. You looked to your family and you felt your accomplishments paled in comparison—especially when one of your sisters was Padmé, the former Queen and now Senator for Naboo. You were accomplished, sure, in your own field. Not everyone was able to serve as a medic for the Grand Republic Army, and certainly not everyone got to serve as a medic for the 501st. But you weren’t so foolish to think that your name was one that would go down in history. You were not the kind of person that would be remembered for years after your death. You were not the type of woman who would leave behind some grand legacy. When people remembered your family, you might only be a footnote. And you had long since been content with that.
You loved your work, after all. For as long as you could remember, you wanted to help people. You supposed part of that came from how the Naberrie family helped you. You remembered being scared, being helpless, and how they comforted you, made you feel at home, made you feel at peace. If you could offer that same sort of comfort to others, why shouldn’t you?
But, with that being said, there were some moments in your line of work that made you want to smash your head into the wall. You loved the 501st, but you weren’t sure if it was just the nature of the boys or if it was something that Anakin, their General, encouraged, but it seemed like they just didn’t know how to stay out of trouble. So, when you saw that you were going to be dealing with a potentially concussed ARC Trooper first thing when you started your shift, you already knew that it was going to be a long day.
Fives was laying on one of the beds, clutching his head, whining to Echo about how much his head hurt. Oh, of course it was Fives. Of all the clones in the 501st, he seemed to be the most keen on getting into trouble. Sometimes, you wondered if he found trouble just so that he would have an excuse to talk to you. And, it almost seemed like you were right, when you made your presence known.
As you walked up to the bed, you greeted the clones. “Good morning, Fives, Echo. Heard someone got into a fight with a cliff and lost.”
“Doc! You’re here!” Fives said, giving you a dopey sort of look. You fought the urge to laugh, knowing that would only spur him on more. “Was thinkin’ you were standin’ me up!”
You looked to Echo, who was holding his brother down, stopping him from jumping out of the bed. “Just how hard did he hit his head?”
“Hard enough to know I’ve fallen for you,” Fives slurred. He tried to sit up again, but Echo pressed down on his chest, stopping the movement.
Echo shook his head at his brother. “Fives forgot his jetpack, so General Skywalker used the Force, but he miscalculated how far to throw him.”
“Sounds like I’m going to have to have a talk with General Skywalker,” you said, a scowl forming on your face. “That’s not the first time he’s done this. I can’t keep letting him hurt my boys.”
“Hear that, Echo? I’m her boy!” Fives crowed. He pushed away his brother’s hands, sitting up, letting out a groan as he moved. But that didn’t stop him for reaching for your hands, tugging you close to him. It took you by surprise, so you didn’t have time to pull away, convince him to lie back down. “When we’re in Coruscant again, do you wanna go to 79’s with me? My treat?”
“I was speaking about all of your brothers, Fives. All of you are my boys,” you corrected.
His shoulders deflated. “Oh.” But then, he perked back up, his eyes once more filled with joy. “Well, they’ll all be there, too! It’ll still be my treat and all but—”
“Doc? Did Fives make it down here alright? I sent him this way the second we got back from the mission, but you know how he likes to wander off—” Anakin’s words died in his throat as he saw that Fives was holding onto your hands, looking at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. “Ah, well, seems like I had nothing to worry about.”
You dropped Fives’s hands, turning towards the General, your hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re gonna have something to worry about if you don’t stop putting my boys in unnecessary danger. Isn’t it bad enough that they’re having to fight in a war? Do you really need to be using the Force to throw them against cliffs?”
Anakin’s face burned red. He looked away, avoiding your gaze. It was curious, the way the usually confident man could not look at you, much like he was a child being scolded. “That was an accident. And, besides, Fives is fine—”
“We don’t know that, yet. I haven’t started his examination. And, even if he is fine, that doesn’t mean he will be the next time, or whichever clone you decide to use as a crash test dummy. They’re people, Anakin. Treat them like it.”
Behind you, Fives leaned over to Echo, whisper-shouting, “Is it just me or does she get even hotter when she’s scolding people?”
“Shh, don’t make her scold us next!”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if she did. She can talk to me anyway she wants and I’ll fu—”
“Fives!” you snapped, looking at him and shaking your head. His mouth immediately shut and he dragged his fingers across his lips, mimicking a zipping motion, punctuating his silent statement with a wink. Letting out a sigh, you turned back to Anakin. “Be more considerate to them, okay? I know tensions are always high on the battlefield, that you might not be able to think everything through fully, but please always try to keep their safety in mind when you’re about to do something reckless. Promise me that, Ani. They may be soldiers, but they’re people to. Their lives matter.”
Anakin stared at you, a strange look in his eyes. If you were paying close enough attention, you might have said it was the same look that Fives had in his eyes when he looked at you. But you weren’t paying that kind of attention, because you were waiting for his answer and not analyzing his micro-expressions. “I promise.”
“Good. Thank you. Now get outta here, I got a soldier to patch up.”
He gave a curt nod, turning to walk out of the medbay. For a moment, you felt bad, an odd sort of sinking feeling settling in your chest. Had you been a little too harsh? It wasn’t often that you were out there, in active combat. Kix, as a clone medic, was the one who was out there. He took care of all of that. So you didn’t have the best frame of reference of the stress that Anakin might be under out there. Still, though, he should know better. Of all people, you would think he would empathize most with the clones.
But, as you turned back to your patient, Fives was grabbing at your hands again, looking at you like you were an angel that just dropped straight down from Heaven, as he asked, “So is that a yes? You’ll come to 79’s with me?”
You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t drop it. You knew how stubborn the man could be. If you kept avoiding the question, he would keep asking, stopping you from properly treating him. You couldn’t do your job unless you told him you would go. Besides, it might be fun. You deserved a break, too, didn’t you? “Sure, Fives. I’ll go.”
If you were looking his way, you would have noticed how Anakin paused in his step, the way his fists clenched at his side. But, you weren’t, so you didn’t know.
Anakin had never felt this way before. So conflicted, so confused, so hurt. Why? Why did he feel this way? Was it you? No, it couldn’t be. You were doing your job. You were tending to a patient. He had seen you do the very same perhaps a thousand times before. There was nothing different about seeing you today. But then…Why did his heart stop when he saw Fives holding your hands? Why did his heart sink when you agreed to go to 79’s with Fives? Perhaps…No. No. That was impossible.
His heart laid with Padmé, he was sure of it. Since the first time he saw her on Tatooine, he had dreamed of her face. She had always been so kind to him. As he trained at the Jedi Temple, he hoped that there might come a day when he would see her again. Years later, he did. And, oh, he felt just the same then as he did when he was a boy. She was his soulmate. She had to be.
So why did it feel like his heart had been beating for you ever since you joined his battalion?
His comm beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Padmé. Ever since they had reunited a few years ago, they had been in semi-regular contact. It was difficult, of course, given him fighting in the war and her serving as Senator for Naboo. But they always found time for each other. Yet, for a fleeting moment, he considered ignoring her comm.
He didn’t. He ducked into his room, making sure the door was locked, before answering. “Padmé,” he said. Usually, he felt lighter, happier, when he got to see her face. This time, he only felt a shroud of jealousy and insecurity cloaking him. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
She smiled. Anakin always loved her smile. He thought it made her angelic appearance become even more heavenly. But now, he found himself comparing it to yours. They were both beautiful, to be sure. But Anakin found himself more drawn to your smile. Why? What had you done to vex him this way?
“I heard you were going to be arriving on Coruscant soon,” she said.
Anakin nodded. The boys were well due for leave. They needed a break. Though, Anakin thought bitterly, they didn’t deserve a break if they were going to use it to attempt to charm you. To Padmé, he said, “We’ll be arriving within the day.”
“I wish I could see you,” she said. Her smile faded ever so slightly. “I have to go on a diplomatic mission in a few hours. If you would like, you can stay at my apartment. I might be back before you have to leave again.”
He shrugged. Normally, he would love the offer. It made him feel like she trusted him, like perhaps she liked him as much as he liked her. It felt different, this time. Like he would be committing some sort of betrayal. “I think I’ll stay at the Temple. I’m going to take a page out of Obi-Wan’s book and attempt to meditate.”
Padmé’s smile fully faded. She was always so good at reading him. Anakin often wondered if she was the slightest bit Force-sensitive. Or perhaps he was more of an open book than he realized. “Is something wrong? Is something troubling you?”
Anakin looked away. He wanted to say. If it was anyone else, Anakin would have no trouble telling Padmé. But it was you. Padmé’s sister. How awkward would that be? Not to mention, it could ruin anything that Anakin may have with her. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you know if your sister is seeing anyone?”
Padmé stared at him, her brows raised. Kriff. That hadn’t come out right, had it?
“I just mean, some of the boys were…I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into things, but it felt like one of them might be interested with her.”
She still stared. Did he need to elaborate more?
“I just was thinking that, if she was seeing one of them, I should probably have a talk with the trooper. You know, make sure they know they can’t use her or break her heart or anything like that. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s too good to be treated like that.”
Padmé hummed but said nothing. Anakin almost felt like a child again, when he had done something his mother explicitly told him not to do. He would try to hide the evidence, try to fabricate some story to explain the mess he had made. But his mother always knew. She always saw right through him. Padmé, Anakin mused, was a lot like his mother in that way. But he was grown now, and he knew that he couldn’t keep babbling on about a story that they both knew to be false. He had to pivot, had to redirect. Maybe then, the heat would be off him.
Anakin looked away, then back again. He asked, “Do you know? If she’s seeing anyone?”
“As far as I am aware, no, she’s not,” Padmé said. Anakin knew Padmé well enough to know that there was more she wanted to say, and she was never the kind of person to hold her tongue. “You don’t have to lie to me, Ani. If there’s something more there, something beyond concern for her heart, you can tell me.”
“There’s—” The words couldn’t form. Anakin wanted to deny Padmé’s accusation. (Right?) But the words soured on his tongue. It felt wrong, to say there was nothing there. To be sure, Anakin wasn’t sure what was there. But to say there was nothing would be untrue. He couldn’t lie to Padmé. Instead, he said, “She only deserves the best.”
Padmé smiled at Anakin like she knew something he didn’t. “You are one of my closest friends, Ani. If there was anyone who I could trust with my sister’s heart, it would be you. If you choose to follow her, you would have my full support.”
She was gone before Anakin could even think of a protest.
Dread settled in the pit of Anakin’s stomach as they arrived on Coruscant. The 501st, previously wore out from the stress of battle, had been rejuvenated at the prospect of well-deserved leisure, pleasure. When he passed some of the troopers, Anakin feigned excitement for them, though he felt anything but. All he could think of was Padmé’s words, of you agreeing to go to 79’s with Fives, of how he couldn’t figure out what this emotion was he was feeling every time he thought of your face.
But rather than returning to the Jedi Temple, as he told Padmé he would do, he found himself lingering, waiting to see you. Perhaps he could convince you not to go. Perhaps he could make up some task that you need to complete immediately, something that would prevent you from going out to 79’s. Would that be cruel of him? Sure. But was it not more cruel to let your heart be broken by someone you might one day lose to this war?
Anakin wandered the halls, trying to figure out what he should do. He tried to think about what Obi-Wan would say. He was sure his Master would talk about how the Jedi Code does not allow attachments, that Anakin should leave you be and let you do what you please. That Anakin should return to the Temple, that he should meditate, that he should remember that pursuing you would be allowed so long as he remained a Jedi. (What was the point, then, of being a Jedi if Anakin would be denied your love?)
Finally, Anakin decided he would leave you be. This was a fluke, he decided. The result of being away from Padmé for so long, of you being the closest thing he had to her on a day-to-day basis. There was no reason to bother you about this.
But, as he turned to return to the Temple, or perhaps to go to Padmé’s apartment, he saw you walking down the hall, the click-clack of your heels on the tile signaling him toward your presence. Against his better judgment, the judgment that told him he should try to place some distance between you and him, Anakin turned toward you.
Kriff.
He shouldn’t have done that.
You wore a dark, shimmery dress that left little to the imagination. The dress had a plunging neckline, directing Anakin’s gaze down to your cleavage. He swallowed hard, tried to look again, tried to show you basic respect. But as he looked away, his gaze trailed down your legs. Maker, had you always been so beautiful? Had you always looked like a goddess among men?
“Anakin!” you greeted. You smiled at him. He found it hard to look away from your painted lips. (What would it look like if it was smudged? What if he was the one to smudge it?) “I thought you would have left my now.”
He raised a brow. “Trying to get rid of me, Doc?”
Your eyes widened. “What? No! I-I just, you know…You have important Jedi duties. I-I thought you’d be back at the Temple already.”
He did. He really should have left a long time ago. Undoubtedly, the Council would have some sort of assignment for him to do while he was back on Coruscant. There was no benefit to remaining here. Except, of course, to see you, but you didn’t need to know that.
“Are you on your way to the boys’ barracks?” he asked. He couldn’t find a way to explain himself, so redirecting the conversation was the way to go.
“I—yes. How did you know?“
“I heard you tell Fives you’d go to 79’s with him,” Anakin said. He extended his arm for you to take. “C’mon. I’ll walk you over there, make sure you’re in safe hands.”
Though, he didn’t know if he should classify his hands as safe. Nevertheless, you held onto his bicep as you and him walked down the hall to the troopers’ barracks. It was quiet, the walk was. Anakin wasn’t sure if he liked that. He preferred listening to you talk.
“You should come with us,” you said as you approached the barracks. “I-I don’t know if there’s some Jedi ban on going to bars—”
Anakin barked out a laugh. “—we’re allowed to have fun, Doc! It’s not all meditation and contemplation and boring things.”
“—I didn’t know! You all are so unlike everyone else. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to break your Code!” you defended. You looked away. Anakin could feel your anxiety. He almost felt bad, laughing at you like that. “Anyways, I just wanted to say you should join us. If you’d like to, I mean. I-I know this war hasn’t been easy on anyone, and you deserve to have some fun as much as the boys.”
“Oh, I shouldn’—”
The Force did not seem to be with him. Just as Anakin was going to politely turn you down, they reached the barracks, the clones already barreling out, seemingly in search of you. Anakin’s words died in his throat as you were ripped away from him, Hardcase pulling you into a hug. Anakin’s jaw clenched. He didn’t like it, seeing another man touch you. But what could he do? He didn’t like you like that. If you were Padmé, it would have been different. Anakin would have had no problem making it clear that that sort of thing wasn’t going to happen. But you weren’t Padmé, so no matter what he felt, he had no right to step in on your fun.
“Move out of the way, she’s only going because I asked her—” Fives said, stealing you away from Hardcase. Anakin’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “—which means she’s my date!”
“Oh, stop, I’m no one’s date!” you laughed.
Fives pulled away, gasping, his hand on his chest, right over his heart. He turned to Echo, throwing his arms around his brother, dramatically crying on his shoulder.
Anakin thought the display was over and was ready to leave, sure that you were in safe hands, when he saw Rex approach you.
The blond clone threw his arms around you, squeezing you tight, lifting you off the ground. “Can’t believe Fives finally wore you down, cyar’ika,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Anakin tried to stamp down the ugly green feeling washing over him. “Glad he did, though. I’ve been—We’ve all been looking forward to more time with you.”
Et tu, Rex? Of all the clones, Anakin would have thought that the Captain would have some restraint. But even the usually reserved man—at least, in comparison to his brothers—fell victim to your charms. If you could break down even Rex, were you really in safe hands?
Jesse was the first of the clones to notice that Anakin was there. He titled his head, brows furrowed together, and asked, “General? What are you doing here? Did you have a job for us?”
“Oh, he was just walking me over!” you said. You turned around to Anakin, smiling. Maker, did you have to have such a beautiful smile? “I was just asking if he wanted to come along with us.” Your smile dropped slightly as you looked back at the boys. “If that’s alright with you guys, of course, too. I don’t want any toes to be stepped on.”
“Don’t dance with Fives, then,” Echo said.
“Hey!”
“You don’t have to worry about stepping on toes,” Rex told you. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that General Skywalker can join us if he likes.” Rex glanced at Anakin. “No pressure, sir.”
Before Anakin could try to sort through whether he wanted to go or not, Jesse had slung an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close into his side. His head dipped, asking, “How’re you still single, mesh’la? With as sweet as you are, anyone here would be more than happy to make you theirs.”
You caught Anakin’s eyes. There was something…sad in your gaze. Anakin felt the need to reach out, to comfort you. But you were already looking away, looking back at Jesse. “I could never be with the one I care for. I could never ask him to betray his duties.”
Right. Of course. You could never ask one of the clones to betray the Republic. The clones had a duty to fight in this war. To do anything else, to contemplate a life outside of the war, would be treasonous. The clone would likely be decommissioned, you would likely be thrown in jail, if such a relationship ever was to become known. You were too good of a person to ever consider pursuing such a relationship.
Fives threw his arm around your shoulders, knocking Jesse’s off. Jesse glared at his brother, but Fives ignored him. “Oh, c’mon, you’re worth more than duty and responsibility. If you asked, any one of us would leave all this behind.”
Anakin would, too. It was interesting. He hadn’t really ever wanted to leave the Order for Padmé. With her, he always thought he’d try to make it work. Try to be a Jedi and be a husband and not allow the two to become too overlapped. But with you…He found himself willing to throw it all away.
Fives cast Anakin a look, his face paling, as if he just remembered he was in the presence of a superior officer. “Hypothetically, sir.”
Anakin looked to you, the way you chewed on your lip as you stared back at him. “Hypothetically,” Anakin said, “I would say you’re special enough that even a Jedi would be willing to break the Code.”
Your mouth fell open into a perfect “O”. Anakin pushed away the thought of what it might feel like to kiss you, to slip his tongue into your mouth, to hold you close, and—No. Stop that.
“I do need to return to the Temple, though,” Anakin said. “Have fun, and stay out of trouble, Doc.”
“She’ll be in good hands, sir,” Rex said.
Anakin wasn’t sure if there were any good hands you could be in besides his, but he held his tongue. He offered you a tight smile before turning to leave. He ignored the wave of sadness that washed over you. He couldn’t comfort you. It was not his right, and he didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. Besides, he was tired. He needed to get to bed.
He didn’t sleep that night.
Anakin Skywalker was avoiding you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Ever since that night you went to 79’s with the boys, he had made clear and purposeful attempts to stay as far away from you as he could manage. You couldn’t deny how much that hurt you. You thought…Well, when you saw him that night, for a fleeting moment, you thought he might like you.
It was a ridiculous thought, to be sure. Jedi didn’t do attachments. What greater attachment was there than being a relationship with somebody? Even if Anakin said that you were the kind of woman a Jedi would break the Code for, that didn’t mean he liked you enough to break the Code. It didn’t mean he was speaking of his personal feelings for you. It could have meant anything. It could have meant nothing. For all you knew, he could have been trying to assure Fives that he hadn’t spoken out of turn, not conveying a secret message to you.
But then, why would he not look at you? Why would he not talk to you? Why did he send Rex and Jesse to tell you that you’d be joining them on the battlefield instead of telling you himself? He always liked talking to you before, always found a reason to see you. After all, did he really need to come to the medbay and check in on every injured trooper when he knew you were perfectly capable of healing them? Did he need offer to escort you when the opportunity presented itself? Did he need to make you feel so special and so ordinary all at the same time?
Worse, when you tried to talk to Padmé about it, all she said was to let Anakin be for the time being. That he was sorting through something and that he needed space. Which would have been fine, if it wasn’t for the way Padmé looked like she knew something you didn’t. Maker, why couldn’t she just tell you? Why did she choose now to be cryptic and vague? Sure, Anakin was one of her closest friends, but you were her sister! Did that mean nothing?
You were pulled from your thoughts as you watched a trooper fall. You ran to him, firing a few shots at droids who stood in your way. When you reached the soldier, you fell to your knees, searching for the wound.
“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doc,” he mumbled.
You paused for a moment, examining the armor of the trooper. Oh, of course. Of course it would have to be Fives. How he managed to become an ARC Trooper when he always stumbled head first into danger, you would never understand.
“Well, that would mean you would have to stop having two left feet and falling straight into the line of fire,” you said, finally finding the blaster wound. With one hand, you began to apply pressure, using your free hand to open your medkit, searching for what you needed. “Your brothers should have called you Lefty instead of Fives. Would’ve been far more appropriate.”
“You have terrible bedside manner. You wound me,” Fives said.
“No, that was the droid.”
Fives huffed out a laugh, then groaned, clutching at his ribs. “Kriff, don’t make me laugh, mesh’la.”
You hummed. You just finished patching the blaster wound, so you turned to the ribs. They didn’t appear to be broken, which was good. You didn’t have the time nor the supplies to be setting broken bones. “Looks like you bruised your ribs. I don’t got anything to treat that, but Kix should. I’ll send him over, okay? Just sit tight.”
“Am I gonna live, Doc?”
“You’d better,” you said. You leaned down, pressed a kiss to his helmet. “You’re my best friend, Fives. Who else is gonna annoy me if I lose you?”
“Echo’d do a pretty good job at it, I think.”
“Wouldn’t be the same. I’m gonna get Kix now. Don’t do anything stupid.”
As you rose back to your feet, you looked around, trying to mind the clone medic. As you searched across the battlefield, you found Anakin first. There was something beautiful in the way he fought, you realized. You shook your head. You needed to focus. You didn’t need to ogle over the General—especially not in the middle of the battle.
But, Maker, it was so hard to find Kix. Couldn’t they have have given him a bigger symbol than the little one they put on his arm? With everyone moving around, it was hard to tell who was who. All of the paint on their armor was beginning to look the same. Couldn’t they have painted a big red symbol of Kix’s back or something? (Of course, that would make him a bigger target to the enemies. If he was easier to see, he was easier to kill. And if the medic went down…Well, it was easier to take out a battalion. But never mind that! You needed to find him for Fives, and it was impossibly difficult in these circumstances.)
“Doc, get down—”
There wasn’t enough time to react. By the time you saw the blaster being fired your way, you couldn’t have gotten down. It struck you in the side, right where you didn’t have any armor to protect you. You heard a scream—was it yours? Maybe Fives was screaming. It wasn’t a non-possibility.
You fell with a thump! as your head hit the ground and it all went black.
When you opened your eyes again, you were under the bright, fluorescent lights of the medbay. Somewhere, there was shouting. Who was shouting? Couldn’t they step out into the hall? It was hardly good for the patients if someone was yelling. Healing required rest, and it was difficult to rest when someone couldn’t shut up for five minutes.
You tried to sit up, groaning as you did, to tell the person off. Instantly, the shouting ceased. Kix was on one side of you, Anakin on the other. At the foot of the bed you lied in stood Fives, who looked like he just got the scolding of a lifetime. You looked at Kix, who seemed just as sheepish, then at Anakin. You could practically feel the anger rolling off hm.
Perhaps you should have held your tongue, but you had gone over medbay etiquette with him a thousand times. For him to disregard it the second you were out? It felt disrespectful. You said, “You know you shouldn’t shout in the medbay.”
Anakin ground his teeth together. “And you know you should be mindful of what’s going on on the battlefield.”
Your brows furrowed together. “I was.”
“Oh? And that’s why you're here now? Because you were so mindful?”
“People get injured out there all the time. I wouldn't have a job here if they didn’t. Things happen, Ani. I’m fine.” You paused, then looked to Kix. “I am fine, right?”
“As fine as you can be given the circumstances,” he said. “Should be up and running by morning.” He glanced at Anakin then back to you. “Assuming that you’re allowed to rest instead of being chastised.”
“Watch it,” Anakin snarled.
You sat up more, another groan escaping. Kix was quick to help you find a more comfortable position. Once settled, you said, “Don’t yell at him for something I did. And, kriff, don’t yell at me for trying to my job!”
“Oh, so your job is to just stand there, out in the open, unprotected!?” Anakin snapped.
“I was trying to find Kix—”
“So you just stood there?! To find someone, you use your eyes! You don’t just become a karking target!”
“Kind of hard to find the other medic when he’s wearing the same armor as everyone else—”
“That’s why he has a medic symbol! It’s bright kriffing red! How the kark could you miss it?!”
Kix stepped in, raising his hands slightly, as if ready to push Anakin away if he got too angry. Anakin snarled at the medic. You were almost certain they were about to fight over your bed when—
“Sir, if I may—” Fives cleared his throat. “—it’s probably best that you go. Let the Doc heal before you reprimand her.”
Anakin turned on the ARC Trooper, his eyes flashing with…something. “Right, because you care so much about her—”
“I’m the one who helped her after she was shot, sir.”
“And you’re the reason she’s injured! If you hadn’t—”
“Get out.”
Anakin’s head whipped back around toward you. His gaze softened ever so slightly. “What?”
“I don’t want you here right now, and protocol is that the patient can have anyone be ordered to leave their room while they’re healing, even if that person is their superior officer. So, go. Come back when you’ve cooled down and we can talk about what happened. But you have no right to come in here and yell at me like I’m so petulant child when all I did was my job. I might have made a mistake, sure, but you can’t tell me that you’ve never made a mistake out there.”
Anakin stared for a moment, two, before saying in a softer voice, “I was worried about you. I care about you.”
“How much could you care when you’ve ignored me for weeks?”
Anakin blinked, slowly, then nodded. He turned to leave without another word. But, as he reached the door, Anakin turned back to you. He was too far away for you to read his expression. But there was something in the way he held himself, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he couldn’t quite stand still, that told you he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. What was it? Could you do anything to help ease it?
“I don’t like it when you’re out there, Doc,” he said. “I don’t know if it’ll be the last time I see you. I don’t know if you’ll come back to me. You’re not trained for battle. Anything could happen.”
“There’s more important things to be worried about than a single medic,” you said.
“Not to me.” Anakin looked away, then back again. “I meant what I said the other day. You’re more special than you think.”
What he said? Was he talking about that night you went to 79’s? That was the last time you’d really spoken to him until now. But what had he said? Maker, you wished your head didn’t hurt. You wished Anakin wouldn’t speak in riddles. Oh! Wait, had it been something about leaving the Order? But, why would he…
Oh.
Oh.
“I could never ask that of you, Ani,” you said, “no matter how much I would like to.”
“You don’t have to ask. I would do it anyways.”
And maybe the worst part was, you knew he was telling you the truth.
#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x fem!reader#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x y/n#anakin skywalker fic#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker fan fiction#anakin skywalker fanfic#anakin skywalker fan fic#starrywrites#starryevermore
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Seashells from the March prompts for Marion, please?
George, I hope you don't mind I went in a slightly different direction for this. It's Marion, but it's...not. This is also for the Kind Anonymous Friend who asked for Harding's departure.
He still couldn't believe he'd left them.
His bedroom at Walter Reed was terribly empty - white walls, an iron bedstead also enameled in white, a bedside table, a small chair, a tray on wheels they could place over his bed if he wanted to get work done - if he'd had any work to do, that is. But Neil Harding hadn't been allowed to take any work with him. The 100th doesn't go off ops, and neither do I. He'd been saying it for weeks, even as he was doubled over in pain at his desk and Doc Stover was begging him to tell him what was wrong.
Well. They knew now. Gallstones - a whole lot of them. Easy enough to treat if you got to them early, but he hadn't done that, had he, and now he was back stateside, and his boys were still in it.
They needed me, and I left them.
His boys - and Marion.
There hadn't been a lot of time for good-byes, as they'd been rushing him to the hospital in London, and then straight onto an air evac flight back to the States to recover. He could do a month of bedrest just as easily in DC as he could in England, and there were boys who needed the space close to the war. The Army Medical Department seemed to think he was a total loss, as far as combat readiness was concerned, but he had things to do in England - people who needed him!
Who's going to take care of you, now? Who's looking out for my best girl?
They weren't the kind of instructions you could commit to paper. Red - please look after Marion. Look after, like she needed someone to check on her health. What she needed was someone to kiss her good night - to rub her shoulders and rub her out and fill her hot water bottle and cradle her, very gently, after having sex, at least once a night but perhaps twice. And the particular someone who should have been doing it was presently across an ocean, eating milk porridge and having a full shift of nurses fuss over his stitches and his wound dressing and his bowel movements, like he was some old fogey who would forget things if he wasn't asked.
It wasn't prison, but damn if it didn't feel close. There was a hospital library, and they delivered the papers every day. He was allowed his cigars, and if they liked the progress of his stitches they'd put him back on solid food soon. And they tried for some comforts, where discipline and order could fit them in. One of the nurses had set up his framed picture of Doris and the girls right where he could see it, on the dresser across from his bed. "That's better, now, isn't it, sir?" she'd asked with a sunny smile. "Can I get you anything else, while I'm here?"
He wanted her to take the picture down, but that would look bad. The woman herself would be here in a few days, but until then, he wanted to remain in the war, with the comforts he'd found here. "Lieutenant, there's a…a seashell, in my footlocker, in the top tray." It should have still been there, wrapped in a handkerchief. "Could you - could you put that out, too?" She nodded, and went to check his trunk, before pulling it out - a small, soft, pink spiral of a shell, the kind that you could hear the ocean in, if you held it to your ear. She set it down near the photograph like the two belonged together. "On the - the other side of the dresser, please."
She moved it, as instructed. "A good memory, I hope?"
Neil looked at it and thought of the ocean, and a walk along a barbed-wire edged breakwater in Southwold, a rare private weekend away. She'd found the shell in between the stones, tossed up by a storm. Your favorite color, he'd joked, stroking the pink with his thumb. Your favorite shape, she tossed back, and he realized how the swirl of the shell echoed the curve of a breast, peaking into a pink tip. He'd slipped it into his pocket like a talisman, careful not to break it, and that night he'd kissed those breasts over and over again like he might somehow commit them to memory.
Was it just one memory? No, more than that. But the nurse didn't need to know that. He had left - but she had stayed, and would remain until the stars went out. At least they could depend on her. Neil smiled and nodded, thinking of a woman in a pristine army uniform, laughing in his room's single chair. "The best."
#asked and answered#derry-rain#i have written a thing#mercurygraypresents#tds cinematic universe#marion brennan
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[AO3] [Dreamwidth]
Obi-Wan gets his Master's rank. There's a little more to it than that, though.
-
The blinking cursor on his datapad wasn’t mocking him. No, no it could not – Jedi-issued technology did not mock. Tease, maybe, but not this incessant, flickering tranquility.
It reminded him of Yoda.
He sighed, saving the file once more and shoving it off to the side.
One was not a Master until they completed the Trials, this was true. What the younglings of the Temple didn’t acquire a fine appreciation for until they apprenticed under another Jedi was thesis required to give something back to those that encouraged them on their path.
With the stacks of loaned data-sticks from the library neatly piled in an open container on his desk, Obi-Wan felt another bout of acute sympathy for the university students that accomplished this, seemingly, on the regular. The last time that he had written an essay of such thorough length was after his unconventional knighting.
Groaning, he pulled himself up from his chair, grabbing his empty caff cup and wondering how much of his ration card subsisted off of various low-grade stimulants and whether the healers could sense his blood pressure from across the Temple.
Probably. They were rather good at tracking him down when he skirted the truth on injuries.
Pleasant thoughts in mind, he ran a hand down his beard, peering through the cabinets for something quick to eat. His stomach grumbled for something fresh, but at the moment deadlines prevaricated the need for subsistence from the refectory. A pack of noodles in a vegetable sauce seemed the best compromise, and he filled both bowl and cup with water for the small, counter-top heating unit he had borrowed off of Aayla.
Listening to the unit work, Obi-Wan leaned against the counter, squinting at the table holding an atrocious amount of datapads that encompassed all of the work he had. Hopefully this thesis would be done soon, and then he could get back to his typical load of grading history classes, responding to whatever mechanical manuals Anakin had sent him, and the towering stack of forms Alpha had handed over to him for the running of an army.
Funny sense of humor, that man. He didn’t actually like that much reading, despite the ice-breaker of a quip during one of their first conversations.
Obi-Wan was tempted to blame Yoda. He was sure that would go over well.
Lost in his thoughts and attempting not to nod off on the spot, the ding of his food finishing startled him. He scrubbed a hand at his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and deliberately did not look at the chrono.
Seventeen out of fifty pages. The coffee absolutely did not give the relieving jolt it should have at the knowledge of how many sections left he had to go.
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Sixty-three out of fifty pages.
Anakin was laughing at him somewhere, probably. He consoled himself with the knowledge that his padawan would likely get a taste of his own medicine, grumbling to himself as he selected another colour to highlight a lengthy section.
When Alpha had inquired as to the status of his thesis, Obi-Wan had been sorely tempted to groan and toss the datapad at him. At least the data-sticks were returned, the rattling of that many crystals upon Jocasta’s service desk haunting him every time his eyes closed. The bastard had definitely laughed at him, swapping out completed requisition forms for new ones with a reminder that even a general needed more sleep.
At this point a Sith would be welcome. Either he wouldn’t have to complete this thesis, or he’d be granted a hefty sum of medical leave to stare at a wall that had nothing to do with his subject of choice.
Why, oh why, did he pick something he was interested in?
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Sixty-one out of fifty pages.
This time Anakin did laugh at him, but quailed and feigned sympathy at his master’s fatigued scowl. Anakin also has some choice words for his decisions in highlighter colour, but at least the outside perspective was helpful.
Somewhat.
No, Anakin, the perspective of droids on historical Jedi military strategy was not useful. Even if it was interesting.
He bookmarked the links his padawan had left annotated on the thesis. Maybe for some leisure reading later.
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Fifty-two out of fifty pages.
Well. At least he had a wall in medical to stare at. The trooper who had reviewed his vitals looked bewildered and impressed at how high his blood pressure, apparently, was.
Alpha had cheerfully informed him that minor shrapnel wounds that nicked an artery usually didn’t have such spray characteristics, and outside of the two troopers that had felt a little faint at the sight, the rest were taking bets on his continued medical improbabilities.
This time, at least, the running of an army was shifted onto Alpha’s shoulders. The man was nearly amusingly undeterred at the workload. Obi-Wan had asked him if commanders typically partook of caff, and bribed one of the few troopers willing to come by after that with a caramel candy Mace gifted him at the last war meeting to bring his personal datapad in.
Deadlines waited for no one, and at least the familiar stirrings of contempt at his page count could keep him company.
-
Forty-nine point eight-nine pages out of fifty.
It was his new favourite number.
This time he didn’t feel the need to fling the datapad out into deep space, but that was only because he was frantically double-checking all of his sources to make sure everything was in place.
He took a sip of caff out of habit. Eugh.
-
“Congratulations, Master Kenobi,” Mace said, smiling with his typical levels of compassion and no small amount of personal amusement, “A record of your thesis will join the Archives – it has been a while since we’ve had such an illustrious entry for mastership.”
Obi-Wan, thinking fondly back to the overly-sweet iced caff and triple-decker nerfburger with fries that he had enjoyed at Dex’s in celebration after a twenty-hour nap, frowned, “Master Windu?”
Yoda tapped his cane upon the Council floor, chortling, “Fifty pages, a challenge, it is not! Average, thirty-seven, it is.”
“Why I never-”
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Author's Notes
For @thenegoteator. Congrats on finishing your thesis!
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On this day, 3 September 1945, US president Harry Truman officially approved and expanded Operation Paperclip, a secret plan to bring Nazi scientists to US. Originally called Operation Overcast, the US was keen to make use of German technology in order to rival the Soviet Union. Eventually, 1,600 Nazi technicians were brought to the US, where they largely avoided prosecution for war crimes. Instead they were given jobs developing chemical and biological weapons, experimenting with "mind-control" in the notorious MKUltra scheme, and working on the space program. Wernher von Braun was made a senior director on the space programme, which was later absorbed by NASA. He was just one of the officials who was intimately involved in the Holocaust, as he selected enslaved labourers from concentration camps to be worked to death building rockets. Chief Nazi medical officer Walter Schreiber was involved in human experiments on prisoners of concentration camps, including supervising experiments where victims were injected with typhus, men were sterilised, prisoners were submerged in freezing water and locked into low pressure chambers, destroying their lungs. Schreiber was later exposed by the Boston Globe, so the US military flew him to safety in Argentina where he was sheltered by the government of Juan Perón, which harboured many other Nazi war criminals. Another Nazi doctor, Hubertus Strughold, also reportedly had knowledge of these same experiments, and was listed as "wanted" for war crimes by the US Army. But rather than face trial he was employed by the Air Force, described as "the father of aerospace medicine", had a library named after him at the Brooks Air Force Base, which was only eventually renamed in 1995, and was honoured with a portrait in a mural of "medical heroes" at Ohio State University. Pictured: German scientists in the US * We only post highlights on here, for all our anniversaries follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/wrkclasshistory https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2073747076143765/?type=3
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This life story begins at the end, with Aneurin “Nye” Bevan in a hospital bed, befittingly for the visionary political colossus who created Britain’s National Health Service in 1948.As Bevan (Michael Sheen) is creeping towards death, flashbacks of memory bring a hallucinatory quality reminiscent of The Singing Detective: beds and ward curtains are woven into scenes of his childhood as a Welsh miner’s son and a stammering schoolboy bullied by his headteacher. We follow his rise from local council politics to the House of Commons and high office under Clement Attlee (Stephanie Jacob, slightly sinister in a bald wig). Doctors and nurses morph into a bevy of characters from his past, the cast juggling this multiplicity adeptly, and there is a surreal song and dance breakout number as, one presumes, Bevan’s morphine kicks in.In a production written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, there is some inspired stagecraft as the hospital curtains of Vicki Mortimer’s ingenious set swish to reveal debating chambers and libraries. But the narrative is too long-reaching and schematic, its extensively researched material not fully absorbed dramatically.Co-produced with Wales Millennium Centre and running at over two and a half hours, Nye is a too full, yet too simplified, survey of the personal and political elements in Bevan’s world, with some high-pitched moments accompanied by syrupy music.
Bevan is presented as a renegade, Jeremy Corbyn-like figure of his day: both a thorn in the side of Winston Churchill (impersonated well by Tony Jayawardena) and the Labour party. There are council meetings, parliamentary debates, his first meeting with his wife, Jennie Lee (Sharon Small), the war and its aftermath. So much is packed in that the momentous invention of the NHS is tackled, as if in summary, in the last half hour.
Only then do we hear how the nation’s doctors were heavily opposed to Bevan’s proposition. There are exchanges on a screen with an army of hostile medics who look like Minority Report holograms, but we whizz past this opposition, which has enough in-built conflict to be worthy of is own full-length drama.
Sheen (grey helmet hair, chequered pyjamas) is well cast for his natural charm. He brings a curious fey playfulness and vulnerability but does not plumb the depths of his commanding character – or perhaps the busy script simply does not allow it. However, Bevan’s limitations as a son to his dying father bring some emotional mileage as he is too busy caring for the nation’s wellbeing to be there for him.
Small is not given much room for manoeuvre either, and Lee is used for exposition purposes rather than dramatic ones. She talks of her open marriage, describing Bevan as a “rutting stag”, which sits at odds with the cutely pyjama-clad man on stage. There are brief reflections on navigations between her career as Westminster’s youngest MP – and one of only five women – and her marriage. Both she and Bevan hailed from working-class backgrounds and there is a moment when he talks about “impostor syndrome” in this hallowed space. She is unequivocal in her outsider status: “That’s why this place needs us.” Despite these feisty lines, she remains flat, which seems a crime – her character could have been far richer.
Nye is still a vital play because Bevan is a vital man of British history. It succeeds in showing us just how high the hurdles he faced were. When he describes prewar healthcare – one service for the rich, one for the poor – it rings of today’s two-tiered system. “I want to give you your dignity,” he says, as the NHS launches. It is a rousing moment yet contains a terrible, tragic irony, given what is coming to pass with his precious legacy.
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Entry 0: Slenderman and the Mansion
04/03/2024
It has come to my attention that the man himself, the big boss, the operator, the most evil creature alive, has not been properly observed and detailed since [redacted] . As a result I have brought it upon myself to make a detailed entry on his existence, to warn others of him and hopefully deter them from seeking him out in the near future.
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Slenderman
Status: Alive
Age: Unknown
Species: Unknown
Danger: Lethal, DO NOT APPROACH
Appearance: A very tall, thin humanoid creature, capping at about 14 feet, with a featureless white face. It appears to be wearing a tuxedo but that may just be the way his skin patterns appear. It grows tentacles when angered or threatened.
The creature seems to be as old as evil itself. It can manipulate people by breaking into their minds and planting fearful ideas in their brains. You know that it is nearby due to the static it emits, and sometimes it can even mess with depth perception and cause other visual problems.
If you are ever left alone with this creature, you should stay quiet, avoid 'eye' contact, and appear as small and as meek as possible. It hates when people talk back, and is not above torturing someone simply for getting on his nerves.
Its origin is unknown, however its purpose is. It exists purely to destroy the creature known as ZALGO. Slenderman exists to build an army to destroy Zalgo once and for all. It will go through as many proxies, as many killers, as many soldiers as it takes to build the proper army to take down Zalgo.
It is unknown what happens after Zalgo is defeated. For now though, all that matters to Slenderman is that it gathers as many weapons as it can.
End entry 0
Entry 0.5 04/03/2024
The Slender Mansion (Wisconsin Location)
Status: Slightly damaged, still standing
Age: Unknown
Species: N/A
Danger: Safe
Appearance: A very large mid century gothic mansion built in the middle of a massive clearing found deep in the mid Wisconsin forests. It is huge, meant to house upwards of 25 people at a time. The interior seems to change and twist but that could be the effects of its inhabitants. If you stumble onto this mansion, give up. You can't leave now, they already know you're there.
The interior, usually, consists of 3 floors, a basement, and an attic. The bottom floor holds the kitchen, living room, den, and library, as well as two small emergency medical rooms. There are three bathrooms, usually used for post mission clean up.
The middle floor holds most of the bedrooms that the residents reside in, as well as two full bathrooms, one on each side of the floor.
The top floor holds Slenderman's quarters, Tim, Brian, and Kate's rooms, as well as 'the safe', where all guest data and files are stored. The bedrooms on this floor have their own attached bathrooms as full closets.
The basement is where hazing and body storage is, as well as emergency resources.
The attic is for extra storage and extra guest facilities.
The mansion, or manor, or house, depending on who you ask, did not exist until Slenderman needed it. It was built under mysterious circumstances by an unknown crew, and there are 6 others just like it scattered across the country, but remain unoccupied at the moment. They are used as emergency escape routes, and nothing more. A backdoor in case someone contacts authorities.
The Wisconsin Slender Manor, its technical name, has a barrier created by Slenderman that protects the house and residents from outside authoritative forces. It's like a blank mind field. Once someone who is not connected to the Project enters and exits, they do not remember what happened in the time they were there. However, once that field is left, if something happens outside of the property, it can be recorded and identified by police.
This mansion is extremely important to the Project, as it houses the man himself and all his little minions. Use EXTREME caution when going anywhere near its location.
End Entry 0.5
"And it was I that brought you here, but it was you who chose to stay."
#creepypasta#creepypasta rewrite#creepypasta revival#marble hornets#creepypasta fanfiction#slenderman#slenderverse#the operator#the slender mansion#sinshine's slenderman project
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Documents Division Staff, Army Medical Library, United States, 1948.
#Vintage#Retro#Library#Libraries#Librarian#Army Medical Library#Librarians#1948#1940s#40s#book#books#bookish#photography#Black and White#usa#united states
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I feel like sending Miya Osamu to medical school today!
MIYA OSAMU x GN!READER. (I hope this is okay :>)
｡+ﾟ *｡ ｡+ﾟ *｡｡+ﾟ *｡ ｡+ﾟ *｡｡+ﾟ *｡ ｡+ﾟ *｡｡+ﾟ *｡ ｡+ﾟ *｡ ｡+ﾟ *｡
Med student!Osamu lays on top his squeaky mattress, reminiscent of the immunosuppressant lessons he learned today and his first and only pharmacology partner.
Med student!Osamu thinks about how it was so adorable that you thought his iPad case was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. It was a custom case with a picture of his high school teammates eating onigiris together in their jerseys.
Med student! Osamu grinned from ear to ear when you asked if he was willing to be your lab partner.
Med student! Osamu is lucky enough to attend a medical school in his own town, whereas you are a traveler student. Making genuine friendships in a field like medicine is not an easy feat.
Med student! Osamu chugs a Red Bull at 2:30am as he crams for an exam that he completely forgot about and he has exactly 7 hours to study 5 weeks worth of pharmacology materials.
Med student! Osamu shows up the next day looking like he fought a army of zombie on the way to class, only to be brightened up by the sight of you.
Med student! Osamu gets all giddy when you walk towards him with a book clutched to your chest, smiling nervously, asking if he studied. He finds it so adorable when your shoulders drop and the forced grin on your face softens when he said he was on the same boat.
Med student! Osamu bombs the test and goes home to sulk. He fucked up, he thought. How is he going to redeem himself with only 2 months left of semester? But something made him sit straight up in his bed and reach for his phone and text a new number that has not acquainted his messages yet.
Med student! Osamu makes sure to be doting, he wakes up 30 minutes earlier than usually to pick up croissants and some delicious coffee on the way to the local library.
Med student! Osamu waits patiently by the front entrance, his arms are heavy with text books and his fingers clumsily clamp down around the paper bag and coffee cup.
“Here you go,” as he hands you the croissant, albeit at this point lukewarm and soggy.
“You did not have to do this. You could have slept in,” you insist, although grateful for the generous treat.
“I know, I just really wanted to,” he says, opening the door, lowering his hand to guard your lower back instinctively, without giving it a second thought.
“Let’s ace our finals, Miya-san!” You ball up your fist and pinch your lips and make a “let’s go” expression before cracking open your text and showing him what you’ve been working on.
Med student! Osamu doesn’t know if he is going to pass his finals, but one thing for sure, he is going to score a proper date with you.
#it’s dr. miya to you#been having an osamu brain rot as of late#my head is pounding as I am writing this#not hype :(#haikyuu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x reader#osamu fluff#osamu x you#osamu x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#haikyu scenarios#haikyu x you#hq drabbles
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On December 26th 1780 Mathematician and scientist,Mary Somerville was born in Jedburgh.
Before Mary Sommerville came around, the word "scientist" didn't even exist!!
Born as Mary Fairfax wasrelated to several prominent Scottish houses through her mother, Margaret Charters. The family moved to Burntisland when Mary was still a child, probably due to the navy connection, her father was William George Fairfax, rose to be a Vice Admiral in the Navy.
What makes Mary's later feats all the more remarkable is that when her father returned from the sea, he discovered 8- or 9-year-old Mary could neither read nor do simple sums. By this time I assume he father had started rising through the ranks as he could afford to send her to a boarding school, Miss Primrose's School in Musselburgh.
Miss Primrose was not a good experience for Mary and she was sent home in just a year. She began to educate herself, taking music and painting lessons, instructions in handwriting and arithmetic. She learned to read French, Latin, and Greek largely on her own. At age 15, Mary noticed some algebraic formulas used as decoration in a fashion magazine, and on her own she began to study algebra to make sense of them. She surreptitiously obtained a copy of Euclid's "Elements of Geometry" over her parents' opposition. In 1804 Mary Fairfax married—under pressure from family—her cousin, Captain Samuel Greig, a Russian navy officer who lived in London. They had two sons, only one of whom survived to adulthood. Samuel also opposed Mary's studying mathematics and science, but after his death in 1807 she found herself with the opportunity and financial resources to pursue her mathematical interests.
She returned to Scotland with her surviving son and began to study astronomy and mathematics seriously. On the advice of William Wallace, a mathematics teacher at a military college, she acquired a library of books on maths and began solving math problems posed by a mathematics journal, in 1811 winning a medal for a solution she submitted.
She married Dr. William Somerville in 1812, another cousin. Somerville was the head of the army medical department in London and he warmly supported her study, writing, and contact with scientists the family moved to London in 1816 where their social circle included the leading scientific and literary lights of the day, including Babbage and the Herschel Brothers
Mary began publishing her work and was winning acclaim across Europe, so much so she was awarded a pension by the Prime Minister Robert Peel in 1834. Scottish scientist David Brewster said of her she was "certainly the most extraordinary woman in Europe - a mathematician of the very first rank with all the gentleness of a woman".
William Somerville’s health deteriorated and in 1838 the couple moved to Naples, Italy where she stayed for almost all of the remainder of her life, working and publishing.
In 1848, Mary Somerville published "Physical Geography," a book which ended up being used for 50 years in schools and universities; although at the same time, it attracted a sermon against it in York Cathedral. In 1869, Mary published yet another major work, was awarded a gold medal from the The Royal Geographical Society, and was elected to the American Philosophical Society. In 1868 aged 87 she was the first person to sign
By 1871, Mary Somerville had outlived her husbands, a daughter, and all of her sons: she wrote,
"Few of my early friends now remain—I am nearly left alone."
In 1868, four years before her death aged 91, she was the first person to sign John Stuart Mill’s unsuccessful petition arguing for women’s suffrage, in her autobiography Somerville wrote that "British laws are adverse to women".
Mary Somerville died in Naples on November 29th, 1872, just short of reaching 92.. She had been working on another mathematical article at the time and regularly read about higher algebra and solved problems each day. Her daughter published "Personal Recollections of Mary Somerville" the next year, completed mostly of before her death.
There’s a wee biography on the link below delving a bit more into Mary Sommerville’s life.
http://dangerouswomenproject.org/.../mary-somerville.../
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Man something needs to be said for media access in Warhammer. I’m making a medic themed loyalist Death Guard chapter, so my thoughts was ‘oh, I should probably read Flight of the Einstein, cause that’s basically my chapter’s founding myth’. Except it’s not for sale. Anywhere. You can buy a paper back on Amazon for 200 bucks or get an ebook or get fucked. Those are your options
So often in 40K you’ll read some cool bit of lore in a wiki article and you go ‘that sounds fucking awesome where can I read that?’ And then you look it up and it’s from an anthology book made available only in a limited run at the 2018 Horus Heresy Weekener convention and now its only available from GW as an mp3 file for $26.99 (yeah, I’m that pissed off that I can’t read The Ancient Awakens by Graham McNeil that I googled what fucking convention the paperback was exclusive to, it’s a good fucking story. Or it would be if I could FUCKING READ IT)
So yeah, it blows that I can’t get these books without a time machine. I want to have a library of books not some tablet that has books. I want to be able to loan them to my friends, I want to build a timeline on a shelf so I can judge when something happens in relation to the rest of the setting, I want to have annotated copies and be able to reference a piece of lore I half remembered cause I thought of a new idea for an army based on it. But no, for the vast majority of Warhammer fiction, unless it’s new or really popular it’s audio book, 200 buck scalper copy, or a pirated pdf. I want paper in my hands I want to look at my shelf and see all the good times I had reading I want to get contact memories touching old paper and remembering where I was in my life when I first read it I want physical paperback books. James Workshop please I’m willing to pay like an extra twenty bucks to get it made to order please. Please don’t let all this good writing languish in inaccessibility I want to give you money in exchange for goods James please
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Look at you defending Keir who’s an abuser and defending The Illyrians who are also abusers 🤣
I didn’t defend Keir. I simply said I am surprised that since he is supposedly so awful that he doesn’t dig his heels in and go against Rhys and refuse to send his people to war.
The idea that every single Illyrian or member of the Hewn City is an abuser is laughable. There is absolutely no way that Mor is the only dreamer in the court of nightmares but the others cannot escape thanks to a society that the high lord contributes to.
Rhys allows the hewn city to exist so he can keep Velaris. He allows the Illyrians to be a war mongering people so that he can have two powerful armies. He literally does not care for any of the people so long as he gets his army. Maybe many of the Illyrians are abusive but that’s because the cycle of abuse is allowed to continue. Rhys doesn’t intervene. He banned clipping but every single female is still clipped.
Females in Illyria are suffering at the hands of males but they’re not allowed to the library, they’re not given the same care Mor was, they’re not offered any support by the IC. It is their fathers and brothers and sons who die in wars for Rhys.
When Rhys stood at Amarantha’s side, so did Illyrians. They were then hunted and executed when she died for… for doing the same thing their high lord did?
Rhysand withheld medical information from his wife and would have let her die if Nesta didn’t intervene, twisted a broken bone in her arm to coerce her into a deal, and sexually assaulted her every night for months. If his court is abusive it’s because they’ve followed the example set by the high lord.
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