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jomiddlemarch · 11 months

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Where might I be, if I were not here?

“Grace. Listen to me—”

“Just leave me alone,” she interrupted. At least, that was what she had intended to say. She wasn’t 100% sure those were the words that had come out of her mouth or ones he’d be able to recognize as belonging to the English language. It was entirely possible she’d spoken in Cantonese and didn’t even realize it. If pressed, she would not have been able to reliably determine the day of the week or the last time she’d eaten, though she dimly remembered Joel talking about broth.

“No. Take it off. Or I will,” he said. She turned her head, very slowly, and looked up at him. He might have sounded brusque or even harsh, well beyond brooking no nonsense, but instead he’d used a very gentle tone, almost coaxing.

“I only need to take a nap,” she said. It was a lie or she was dead wrong or she was wandering somewhere between the two in a greyish netherworld that was nauseatingly wavy around the edges. Joel crouched down so he was nearly at eye-level.

“Grace, you’ve been in those sweats for three days,” he said. “You’ll feel better once you’re in clean PJs and we can put your stuff in the laundry. Or burn them.”

“I’m fine,” she protested. Weakly. She was exhausted and the sweats did have a certain lizard-skin-that-should-be-sloughed quality to them, though she didn’t particularly want to admit it. “It’s no big deal.”

“They weren’t lying about doctors making the worst patients, were they?” Joel said. Thank God it was rhetorical, because her head was killing her, not that she was planning to say anything about it. “Grace, you’ve had a fever for the past week and Ted said they were maybe going to bring you home from the clinic in a wheelbarrow on Tuesday, you probably don’t even know what day it is—”

“It’s just a cold,” she said and winced. She’d stumbled home on her own two feet, the prospect of the wheelbarrow making her vomit into the sink in the corner of the exam room, running the faucet with the excuse that she was only going to splash a little water on her face before heading out.

“It was walking pneumonia until you stopped walking,” he said. “You look like shit and—”

“That’s mean,” Grace muttered. “You’re not supposed to be mean to a sick woman.”

“Let me help you out of those sweats and get you into a clean nightgown, darlin,’” Joel said. She’d admitted she was sick, so he’d won and now the gentleness was mixed with relief. Grace made a superhuman effort and sat up enough for Joel to do the rest of the work, dragging the sweatshirt over her head, letting her rest her forehead against his chest before dealing with the ratty sweatpants she couldn’t remember putting on. He made a series of murmured reassuring comments, c’mon now, there you go, like that, let me, baby and then she was somehow in a fresh, loose flannel nightgown which was mercifully not plaid, nor patterned with anything egregiously twee, only some faded rosebuds scattered on the cream-colored material and no lace at the collar or cuffs. Her hair would have been more of a mess if it weren’t a lank bundle heavy against her neck, unwashed for several days. The flu outbreak had started in Jackson two weeks ago, maybe three, and she’d had moments when she wondered whether the remnants of mushroom-uninfested humanity were going to go the way of 1918 before the tide had turned and then she’d started coughing.

“I look like shit,” she said, echoing him and he shook his head.

“You’re beautiful. You’re fucking sick as a dog, but you’re still beautiful,” he said. “Where’s your water bottle?”

“Bedside table,” Grace said, sinking back onto her pillow. Joel poked around among the various items stacked and clustered beside the oil lamp without lighting it, cursing lightly under his breath.

“This is a pile of junk.”

“I have a system,” Grace said. She didn’t look over at the pile he was rooting through. Usually, books were stacked in order of her aspirational plan to read them, Buddenbrooks not budging from the base, a hair clip was perched on top, the dish that held her earrings sat to the right of the lamp’s base and whatever face cream she’d most recently traded for was carefully set to the back, against the wall. She couldn’t have told him where to begin to find the water bottle at this point, even if she’d opened her eyes to look.

“Maybe when you’re well. It would be a miracle to be able to find anything in this mess. I should’ve stayed home with you,” he replied, finally managing to unearth the half-filled water bottle, flipping the cap and holding it to Grace’s mouth for her to drink. He watched her, careful to pull the bottle away before she sputtered. She couldn’t think of anyone in her whole life who’d ever looked at her with such intimate scrutiny.

“I’m a big girl, I don’t need a babysitter,” she said.

“You’re mine,” he said, taking off his wool work-shirt and then his jeans, leaving him in a tee-shirt and boxers. He was already in his sock-feet, having accepted her assertion that there should be no shoes worn in the home without her needing to bring up manure, though he didn’t always wear the slippers she left for him by the front door. He bent over and took off the socks, then walked around to the other side of the bed and got in. “Should’ve looked after you properly—"

“Joel, you don’t—you should keep on sleeping on the sofa,” Grace said. She couldn’t help the little sighing breath that came out when he brushed back the hair on the side of her face and settled himself next to her. It turned into a cough, but not a full-on hacking one, and he pulled her to rest against his chest when she was done.

“Where d’you think I’ve been sleeping, Gracie? I’ve been in that chair the past four nights,” he said, his voice lower now that he was so much closer. “C’mere, relax—”

“That chair will destroy your back,” Grace said. It usually sat in the corner of the room with a laundry basket on it, the slat back slicing the afternoon sun and shadow into cubes like grass jelly.

“It wasn’t the most comfortable, I’ll give you that. But there wasn’t a better choice,” he said. “Couldn’t keep an eye on you from the floor, tried it the first night.”

“You didn’t have to,” Grace said.

“Yes, I did. And I wanted to,” he said. He was quiet then and so was she, the comfort of the clean pajamas and even more, Joel strong and warm beside her easing the myalgia that had been competing with the headache and cough for first place in the Grace viral-misery Olympics. She felt sleepy instead of obliterated by fatigue and she’d run out of arguments.

“We’ve both lost people, before,” Joel said softly, like he wasn’t talking about the shrapnel they both carried. He wouldn’t say Kian or Tess or tell her the name of Sarah’s mother, but Grace understood him. Regret was its own creature, separate from grief. Sometimes it was like a poison eating you up, sometimes a vital tether between the past and the future, a rope strung between buildings in a Wyoming blizzard. “I wanted, I want to do better by you. They’d want that. You belong to me, belong with me. I don’t plan to let you go—”

He'd said everything except I love you. Except that he’d said that every other way he could, with the nightgown and the water and the chair, with his body and his heartbeat, his breath steady against her cheek, the way he said her name. It was enough and too much and she shivered. He held her tighter.

“You gonna tell me I’m your woman?” she said, trying to make a joke of it.

“If I thought you’d let me, yeah,” he said. “I expect, even at death’s door, you’d tell me to stop talking like a fucking caveman and respect your goddamn autonomy. But you are, even if I don’t say it so you can hear me.”

“You can say it,” she whispered. He made a sound like a laugh without it actually being one.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said. “You sleep now and you wake me up if you don’t feel good.”

Written for @pedrostories 1K celebration and because @tessa-quayle suggested it would be fun to play

#tlou au fanfic #joel/OFC #grace yang MD #hurt/comfort #tropes #second chance romance #only one bed #doctors making terrible patients ad infinitum #grief #romance #my ted lasso x tlou au universe #found family #pedrostories1k

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limeinaltime · 2 years

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Some doodles for the hyopthetical Nope sequel/side story because I won't be talking about it a lot. I do not kill my cringe, I kill the part of me that cringes.

Kind of reworked Black Spade and renamed her Blackjack, because that's a more fitting name (and way more fun to say). She's the scariest thing in the skies of Southern Cali, but there is one singular person who has gone unscathed so far just because she knows how to not set Blackjack off, and everyone else who does kind of has it coming.

Media also seeks out the families of the victims or instigators of tragedies without any real sympathy or respect for what they're going through, and the Star Lasso Experience is one hell of a tragedy. Jupe definitely has family and is a pretty well-known child star thanks to the Gordy incident, so I'm sure he and the rest of the Park family have been harassed over the years for more about the story and their relationship with the child star himself.

Maya is Jupe's distant hypothetical cousin, a recluse who lives out in the country, running a small farm business and generally living a simple life compared to the attention and fame her cousin chased. She doesn't understand why Jupe suddenly starts contacting her about selling her horses (Maya also works with a few and learned to ride as a kid) until after the new of what went down in Agua Dulce reaches the mainstream news and the media starts asking her about her relationship with her cousin. Which is awkward, since the two were never close to begin with and Maya hasn't seen him ever since Jupe made it big as a kid. She only knows about him, and eventually his wife and kids, through the TV. While frustrated upon piecing together what Jupe was attempting to do, she is still upset, mostly at the fact that she'll never get to know her famous cousin for real and that she took any chance of doing that for granted. It's not a big void in her chest, but it still exists anyway.

Blackjack isn't a newcomer to the farmland; she's been there for a while and figured out that the presence of these humans brings more food so she leaves the farm itself alone. While Maya's parents got to ambitious with business and tried to make Blackjack into an attraction, Maya just does her job and doesn't look at the sky when there's a weird cloud hovering overhead, which is what's ultimately saving her from suffering the same fate as her parents. The two have a symbiotic relationship, in a way, and while Maya thinks about how cool it would be from time to time, she's always known that Blackjack can't be tamed or controlled. The news of the Star Lasso Experience only hammers that in further.

Being an older UAP, Blackjack's not as afraid of humans, especially Maya, so she'll sometimes lose her cloud disguise and come down to observe whatever's happening at the ranch or eat whatever network is stupid enough to ignore the warnings Maya's set up to keep Blackjack from eating people. Maya doesn't look at her, but has gotten used to having a giant black disk big enough to eat her house hovering over her from time to time. The isolation Maya lives in can get a bit lonely, so it's nice to have company every once in a while, even if that company could easily make her suffer the same fate as her cousin and parents.

There really isn't much to say about this AU. There could also be some commentary on how far media will go to get the story, on things like true crime podcasts being disrespectful towards families trying to move on from the tragedies... there's no real story, but I think it fits with the themes this movie's set up. I'm also going to slap in that Maya is the provider of the horse feed Haywood Ranch uses and no one ever finds out that she's related to Jupe until later just because I think it's funny.

#nope 2022 #oc #doodles #this isn't a serious thing like what I'm doing with TLG and my MD AUs this is just a for-fun thing/exploration #if peele does decide to make more stories with the Nope universe he has a lot of potential material to choose from #also exploring how Jupe’s family was affected by both tragedies sounds interesting

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bccfggffbgv · 1 year

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Mini Fic: "Council" Meeting

*Sadistic Sam had made it to his hidden cave and arrived on time to start this personal meeting properly with "everyone" else...*

Sadistic Sam, with the titan's blood glyph all set: Let's get this next part over with...*He had then cutted the palm of his right hand and poured the spilt blood on the unique glyph...Allowing him to communicate with his other alternate selves from other worlds*

Sadistic Sam, after noticing that Adventureverse! Sam had arrived with his own assimilated absolute solver: So....How did it go~?

#source: epithet erased #Multiversal Fusion #multiversal fusion au #Adventureverse #chaos verse #The Sorrow Family #Sadistic Sam #Samuel Sorrow #(mentioned)#glitch productions #murder drones #md absolute solver #Absolute Solver #the owl house #Titan's Blood #Chaos-verse #SoundCloud

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fox-mulder-gets-pegged · 11 months

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Been spending my time lately thinking of a House MD au where, through a series of accidents and lies and a bet he didn't rly intend to win, House ends up as a registered foster parent (he's still addicted to Vicodin and his normal dickish workaholic self but for some reason he cleared the requirements and trust me he's as stunned and mildly concerned as everyone else is).

Through further Shenanigans™, he ends up accidentally getting handed fostership of not one, not two, but three hellish but brilliant kids:

1. This total smartass 16 year old named Robert Chase who yeah he's a bitchy teenaged boy and a former rich kid and Australian with enough mommy and daddy issues to reawaken Freud after his dad dipped and absconded all parental rights and his mom drank herself to death, but he's also got a nice car left over from his rich kid days and an eye for detail and weirdly enough his best friend/mortal enemy (some other teen named Eric Foreman) and his on again off again girlfriend (Allison Cameron, totally won't last if u ask House) both work at the hospital as a candy striper and after school in the cafeteria respectively so House can get all the inside gossip from Chase. Plus Chase has no problems breaking and entering into patient's homes which helps bc since he's not employed by the hospital Cuddy can't complain as far as House is concerned.

2. A 14 year old girl who only answers to Thirteen (House knows he could look her name up in her file but honestly it drives Chase nuts that she won't tell him her real name and that's good enough for him) and who's dad was declared unfit after the death of his wife to Huntington's devastated him. She's a total nightmare, snarky and quick witted and freakishly smart even tho she puts most of those smarts towards things like shaving Chase's entire head (eyebrows included) bc he's trying to grow a sucky teenage mustache, and trying to take House's wallet bc she keeps calling him Old Man and he informed her he's actually only 25 but the stress of fostering has aged him prematurely and she's like 95% sure that's a lie but she wants to check his license and make sure bc everyone lies. She loves tormenting Chase by telling him his best friend and/or his girlfriend is hot and asking if they're single.

And 3. This 6 year old boy named Lawrence Kutner who's weirdly cheerful considering his parents got killed in front of him. He's way too chatty and excellent at puzzles and the only morning person in the entire house and therefore frequently tries to make breakfast (he likes to be helpful and he hasn't burned the place down yet so House doesn't feel the need to stop him). Once he told House he was gonna build a Death Star in the living room and House said lol sure go ahead whatever, only to return home from work to discover Kutner called himself out from school and has a huge wooden frame made of broken furniture in the living room. House rly can't argue since he did say go ahead. Benefits of fostering a 6 year old are 1. The babes love it, 2. Free excuse to leave work early/come in late/not show up at all, and 3. Justification for buying juice boxes and Ritz crackers. The neighbor kid Taub is his go to babysitter bc his mom volunteered him forcibly and Taub is lowkey praying that babysitting Kutner could lead to an in at Princeton Plainsboro once he graduates high-school and finishes medical school (it won't, House doesn't believe in nepotism unless it benefits him).

The adventures of House and his Foster Ducklings mostly revolve around being a Found Family, but do involve frequent plots such as:

House fired his brand new fellows again (he tosses em every three or so months, he hasn't found The Right Team yet) and will sometimes bring his foster kids in, hand em doctors coats, and tell patients that they're just a bunch of medical savants here to consult yes even the 6 year old he's actually Harvard's youngest graduate ever.

House sends the kids to break into a patient's home. They refuse. House tells them the first one to find black mold or lead paint or a dead animal or whatever gets $20. They agree. Chase drops Thirteen and Kutner off at a bus stop across town and drives over himself so he can get an hour and a half head start (ultimate fuck them kids moment, however Thirteen did steal his wallet so guess who's paying for lunch and their taxi ride to the patient's house? Net loss.)

Cuddy demands House does his clinic hours. House sends his foster kids to do his clinic hours for him. Tfw you go to the free walk in clinic for a sore throat and a cough and your doctor is a 6 year old boy who keeps asking for help with spelling whilst filling out your chart.

Wilson babysits them one (1) time since House doesn't trust Chase not to throw a party or sell his foster siblings on eBay if left as the one in charge. He wakes up with a big strip of hair poorly bleached right down the middle. Chase crushed up stolen sleeping pills and mixed them into a juice box, which Kutner 'innocently' offered to Wilson. Thirteen was going to bleach and dye his whole head blue (for practice, she wants to dye her hair but she's certainly not gonna fuck up her own hair until she has the method down) but Wilson woke up pretty quickly due to years of House drugging him. Wilson has not offered to babysit again.

Anyways this is my House Foster Ducklings au which I'm thinking about actually writing. Thank u 🫡

#house md #greg house #robert chase #remy hadley #lawrence kutner #i just think Chase and Thirteen and Kutner are the most House's Actual Kids out of all the fellows #give that man three incredibly smart self reliant kids with issues™#i do imagine a plot where House does overdose of vicodin #and the kids find him #and they're in the hospital #and House has to contend with the fact that he either has to give the kids up to better homes #or make smarter choices bc it's unfair of him to be overdosing and almost dying when he has three traumatized kids relying on him #love when there's some middle aged guy whos like 'no im not a dad' but has a gaggle of kids following him around #feel free to message me about this au

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nyaifyz · 9 months

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#md family au #murder drones #murder dones cyn #murder drones nori #murder drones au #murder drones comic #Nyaifyz Art

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blog-name-idk · 11 months

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The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

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It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

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On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

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Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

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You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

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Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

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Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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lumineary-arts · 4 months

Note

Question about md swap au:

How different is the relationship between swap! N and swap! Cyn from the canon one? And what does cyn do after the prom episode?

Swap!N and Swap!Cyn are different in this AU in the sense they are actually biologically siblings! N would do anything for his little sister and is very supportive of her, even if she often can seem a bit ominous. She's still adorable! She's actually quite beloved by her peers, even being part of the cheerleading squad with V and J. She's so close to J, in fact, that she actually is roommates with her instead of living with N and Tessa. This is mostly so the reveal at the end of episode 3 can work.

So while N would do anything for Cyn, he also deep down knows she's a bit more independent and higher on the social ladder than he is. Cyn loves her brother and clings to him when she's scared, but with the Solver developing she's a lot more willing to get her hands bloody, regardless if N thinks its wrong. Hence why they end up battling at prom.

After the prom episode, Cyn focuses on getting into the Cabin Fever labs to figure out the origin of the solver, in the same way Doll does in the original series. Part of her wants to return home to her family, but her mind's a little too far gone and she's got tunnel vision on her goal.

#murder drones swap au #lumi answers!

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the-ace-with-spades · 1 year

Text

I have the urge to write a seven-season-long medical drama, so here is a concept for Top Gun Hospital AU with ER hate-to-love hangster AU that no one asked for.

as a warning: this is a bit incohesive and silly

All the aviators are doctors and all the WSOs are nurses. With the exception of Bradley (but there’s an explanation for it).

Mav — cardiothoracic surgeon; Ice — former neurosurgeon and Chief of Surgery, current Head of Patient and Medical Services (so, entirely admin). I imagine they have the same kind of relationship as House and Cuddy in this, including Ice keeping an entire legal team for Mav’s unconventional practice methods. They've met during med school and had been rivals up until they both finished general surgery residency. Slider is an OR nurse turned anesthesia nurse. Goose was an ER nurse and met Mav during his rotation as a med student and died after an incident in the ER during Mav’s residency (that was the moment he switched from emergency medicine to surgery).

Phoenix — emergency, but she managed the impossible (like Mav) and switched from obgyn residency after the first year (only chose obgyn in the first place because of her mom, a renowned obgyn in Oregon), she's still really passionate about the obgyn field but didn't enjoy the work enough to do it for the rest of her life; Javy — general surgery; Payback — emergency with sub-spec in pediatrics; Friz — respiratory medicine; Omaha — oncology; Yale — ortho surgery.

Bob — a former OBGYN nurse, left because of a toxic work environment, working in the ER six months now, Phoenix's favorite nurse now, duh; Fanboy — started in peds oncology, had to switch because it was too hard on him mentally and is now peds emergency; Halo — started as a palliative care nurse, switched to oncology after a few years; Harvard — OR nurse, switched from general team to ortho

Hangman is the new trauma surgeon starting in their ER. Born and raised on a ranch, was expected to take over the ranch but never wanted to. Thankfully, he had too perfect grades to not send him to college — his parents wanted him to be a vet, which obviously didn’t happen, so he could stay close to the family business. He moved to California for his MD. He has terrible bedside manners with patients and patients’ family, but is surprisingly decent with kids, has lost respect for nurses sometime during his first residency year, and had a terrible case of Ego hit him during his trauma surg fellowship.

Now, about Rooster:

Bradley got into a pre-med program, Mav (who had set up Bradley’s college fund) said he’s not going to pay for it since he doesn’t want Bradley to be a doctor (long hours, lack of work-life balance, burnout, high stress, etc. It was more complicated because Mav still has the Goose trauma). So they had the fallout, Bradley moved out and deferred college to find a way to pay for it and, wanting to gather hospital experience, started working as a CNA in Peds ICU at a children’s hospital which accidentally was having a new CNA intake at the time. He liked it, actually loved it, and started hesitating whether he should continue with pre-med and be like Mav or go for nursing, like his dad. Year after, he got an offer from the hospital that said hey, we’ll fund some of your BSN as long as you work for us while you study and then work for us for another four years after getting your license. So he became a nurse, got certified as peds nurse after working two years in PICU and after another three, switched to the Pediatric Rapid Response Team, where he stayed for another two years before getting a spot as a senior nurse in adult/peds ER in a different hospital.

His relation to Mav and Ice only came to light a few months after the hiring process, as Bradley didn’t even know they worked there when he applied and it’s still a hash-hash topic in the ER. He’s been in the ER for almost three years now and has become an unofficial second-in-command as one of the few with substantial experience.

I imagine he’s definitely one the best nurses you could have as a patient — he’s honest but in an empathetic way, he’s worked in the most demanding environments with the most complex patients (ICU and RRT), he’s skilled and experienced in most procedures. Because he is one of the few male nurses, he’s the one dealing with inappropriate patients, aggressive patients, patients that need restraint, frequent flyers, etc. and he genuinely doesn’t mind — he is the perfect mix of calm and firm that makes him very reliable in most difficult situations. He is absolutely most reassuring and guiding with new stuff, be it new nurses or med students that don’t know what’s happening, and he doesn’t judge. It does help, too, that he was partially raised by two very cocksure surgeons and therefore knows how to deal with doctors that turned a bit too arrogant.

Before I go to the hangster part of this shit, I want y’all to know it all started because I found this Rooster-coded scrubs:

I imagine that he buys most of his scrubs since the work-issued scrubs don’t fit well on men (most unisex ones are very much just female fit stamped with unisex label) and peds nurses can have lots of cute ones so the kids feel less nervous around them

Also, this is a warning that yes, Bradley is trans in this scenario, too, because I said so. It's relevant to a few scenes, I think?? and there's tw for transphobic OC

Now, a bunch of scenarios I can see for this AU:

On the first day at his new workplace, Jake makes a reputation for himself. He confuses Nat, in her hospital-issued scrubs and with her doctor tag clearly on display, for a nurse and literally talks over her in front of a patient. Same thing happens with Billy because he’s Filipino and there is a large number of Filipino nurses everywhere and he’s stereotyping. Then he makes another patient’s parents agitated. This is when he meets Bradley — he takes over to talk to the parents and calm them down before it can escalate, basically shushing Jake out of the room. Jake doesn’t clock he’s a nurse at first — he’s a big, very fit, very well-built, very handsome dude with a questionable mustache who looks comical in a pastel pink scrub top with a teddy bear pattern and a matching headband on his forehead, but also the sheer shock of how different to all the nurses he looks gives Jake a pause — so he doesn’t say anything even if it pisses him off a nurse just forced him out of the room.

It starts innocently with Bradley though — Bradley comes up and asks, “Jake, can you put the narcotics order into the system for Lily?” and Jake scoffs and corrects, “Doctor,” tapping his full tag with Dr. Jacob Seresin.

Bradley, as the nurse’s tag says, raises an eyebrow and says, “Doctor Jake, can you put the narcotics order for Lily?” Natasha, standing behind him, snorts. Jake doesn’t even have the time to tell him off because he’s already gone when his brain processes.

Natasha drops off a patient on him — a taxi driver who had a stroke while driving and had been in a car accident, that had been thrombolysed but might need emergency surgery because of a suspected GI bleed. He’s stable, so they're going to check if he can be admitted to neurosurg and wait for his turn there or if Jake will need to take over before that.

Bradley hands him a tablet the minute he walks into the room.

“What’s that?”

“Results,” he supplies before going back to setting up an oxygen cylinder at the bottom of the bed.

“I didn’t order that,” he notes. The blood and urine panels are what he would order with suspected operable GI bleed but he’s barely looked at the patient’s case before he walked in there.

“I did,” Bradley tells him as he switches the oxygen from the wall socket to the tank supply. “Faster this way.”

“No,” Jake says, blood boiling. “You do exactly what I tell you to do and only that.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, high on her forehead. Bradley doesn’t hesitate — waves on Bob from behind the glass wall and they both grab each side of the bed.

“I supposed you want to put the CT order yourself then,” Bradley says as Bob takes the small back monitor and attaches it to the frame. He steps on the bed brake and rolls out the bed, straight into Jake and Nat, fast enough that he moves out of the way on instinct. “Better do it fast because it’s free now and I’m going.” *

“Did you see that? Who the heck does he think he is?” Jake asks Nat.

“Better put that CT scan order,” is all Natasha replies as she walks away.

It’s Reuben’s patient, an eleven years old boy with blunt trauma, and Jake makes a verbal order to Bradshaw, who is the boy’s nurse. “I understand but I think that—” and Jake goes, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

The whole room gets quiet and everyone looks to him — Reuben, Mickey, and the technician are wide-eyed.

Bradley just says, “Alright,” in a perfectly leveled voice and leaves the room.

Mickey is not making eye contact as he quips under his nose, on his way out of the room, “You do realize he basically runs this ER, right? You’re making your life a lot harder.”

Jake orders IV fluids for one of his patients which is also in Rooster’s section that day and he bleeps the order info to Rooster. Fifteen minutes later he sees that it hasn’t been filled and is like, hah, I knew there is a reason I hate that guy. Finds him when he passes Jake in the corridor and is like, “I want you to start the IV for room 7. Now,” and Rooster just tells him, “No, do it yourself or find someone else.”

They have a little back and forth as Jake follows him down the corridor which ends with another, “No.”

There’s still no charge nurse in the ER (she’s on medical leave that will most likely end with her leaving employment, from what Jake gathers) so he makes a datix and the ER nurse manager (Warlock) following up is apprehensive because obviously, he knows Bradley, and hears about what actually happened — Bradley was getting an igel for a toddler from the peds side and deemed it more important than starting a bag of saline to bust someone's blood pressure.

Jake feels like an idiot.

Jake and Reuben are charting next to each other and Reuben gets bleeped his patient’s lab results. Jake, who is also waiting for lab results, complains about how he sent a pod to the lab before Reuben. Reuben just gives him a look and says, “Yeah, that’s because I asked Bradley to put my request in.”

And Jake is like, “What does he have to do with anything?”

Reuben looks at him like he’s dumb and says, “He has more sway with the lab,” and walks away with his tablet.

Javy is doing a consult for Nat and stops to chat to Jake (they know each other from residency days) and Bradley comes by and says, “Maggie’s becoming hypotensive again,” and Javy observes as Jake looks at the nurse that came, gives him a very long, very detailed look and licks his lips.

He manages to think Oh before Jake asks, “Maggie?”

The nurse looks seconds from rolling his eyes. “Mrs. Lawrence? Room 5?”

“That's Margaret.”

“She prefers Maggie.”

And it goes on, with Jake standing there rigid, puffing up his chest and cocking his hip out. “Did you start the fluids?”

“Finshed already.”

“Start another bag.”

The nurse looks unimpressed and instead of confirming says, slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “Her fluid balance is positive. She’s usually on pressors.” Jake’s face gets red and he goes, “Then put an order for her.”

It’s kind of funny to observe and to be fair, the nurse does give Jake a minute to go over what he said, leaning his elbow on the counter, eyebrows raised, before he points out, in that damn slow, unimpressed tone, “I can't put orders for things like pressors."

He hands Jake the closest tablet and starts walking away.

Jake calls after him. "What, you're not even going to draft it for me?"

He doesn't even turn around and Javy is silently shaking from the laughter he's holding in, "I thought I wasn't allowed to do that, doctor."

Mav comes down to the ER to talk to Rooster on a slower day — about how they’re about to sponsor a new CRNA for the cardiothoracic surg unit and maybe he could put a good word for their development team for Bradley and yada yada.

It happens like that: Mav comes down, Bradley is charting next to the monitors station, Jake is going over a scan on the opposite side when The Dr. Mitchell himself comes down and stops next to Bradley. He gives Bradley and his pink Paw Patrol scrubs a look and clears his throat a couple of times before Bradley raises his gaze toward him, turning away a second later and ignoring him again.

Jake is freaking out — this is The Dr. Mitchell and one of the reasons Jake wanted to work in this exact hospital, along with the rumored to-be-announced cardiothoracic surg fellowship under Dr. Mitchell he had his eyes on. He’s been thinking about how to make contact with Dr. Mitchell since he started in the ER and here he is, telling unresponsive Bradshaw, “I heard you’re looking to go back for your Master’s in the near future.” Bradshaw doesn’t say anything and Dr. Mitchell adds, “We have a CRNA development spot for—” and Bradley tells him, not turning away from the screen, “I’m not an OR nurse,” and then taps his card on the computer’s reader to log out and walks away.

Dr. Mitchell is a fucking legend, a VIP of this hospital, so Jake just stands there, contemplating how the heck Bradshaw could do that and hears him mumbling under his breath, “Really slick, Mav,” and jumps on the opportunity to say, “I’ll be talking to his supervisor about this, his attitude is unacceptable, Dr. Mitchell.”

And Dr. Mitchell turns to him, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Excuse me?”

“The nurse you were talking to. He might be senior in here but his attitude’s been horrible and I’ll personally step in. This won’t happen again.”

Dr. Mitchell gives him a look before slowly saying, “I suggest you mind your own business, Dr. Seresin,” and walks away.

Nat is silently laughing a few feet away and Jake asks her what’s so funny. His heart dead-ass stops when she says, “You do know Dr. Mitchell is Bradley’s dad, right? They might not be on the best of terms but that’s still his son.” And Jake has the urge to bang his head on the keyboard in front of him.

TW for transphobia.

There’s a new nurse practitioner to be (graduated, about to get her cert) that's rumored to be a candidate for the charge nurse position. Izzy. She’s quite young for that, younger than Bradley for sure, must have barely worked in the clinical area before going for her Master’s. Jake doesn’t know if it’s on purpose but the nurse manager and Bradley keep on putting her in his section.

She’s—well, she’s a bit too in his face. She agrees with everything Jake says and doesn’t roll his eyes at him, which is boring, and she’s, for an NP, not that knowledgeable. She doesn’t argue with him, which is a change, and Jake starts to hate it after about five hours. Her voice is saccharine sweet, she keeps on standing a bit too close to him at all times, and she’s decent with patients, but she keeps on asking him about the smallest of things.

Jake’s section is less busy, usually, since he deals primarily with trauma in the ER, but she never bounces off to help others when she is free, like Bradley did. She’s clinging to his section, a little bit, and he doesn’t get why. It’s not like he is any nicer to her than to Bradley or any other nurse.

She is busy taking bloods and Bradley finds him when he has a second alone, finally, and enlightens him about why.

“If you don’t believe me, you can just ask any other nurse. Everyone noticed.”

“If you really think that then why do you keep putting her in my sections?”

“I don’t. She’s senior as an NP, she’s taken over allocation from me now.”

Jake’s mind only focuses on one detail. “You were allocating yourself to my sections?”

“Only because no one wants to work with you and because I’m actually certified in trauma.” That makes sense. It’s not like Bradley would work with him voluntarily. “Look, all I’m saying, you watch out — you fool around with her and then reject her and she’s going to HR. I know the type.”

“The type?”

“You know, the girl that thought she’ll become a nurse, snag a rich doctor and never work again? Well, it’s not always women, there are guys who do that too, but in this case, she’s very much the type.”

“And you think she’s trying to—snag me?”

“She’s certainly not going after the residents that are getting paid twelve bucks an hour or Reuben who is married,” he points out. Which, again, fair, even if he didn’t know Reuben is married prior to this strange conversation.

Jake stares at him, processing, until he blurts out, “I’m gay.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Bradley says after a second, eyes barely noticeably a bit wider, before he walks away.

“Was he bothering you, doctor?”

She calls him doctor, always, and it honestly makes him grit his teeth. Now even more. He’s got a bad feeling about it.

It gets confirmed later when Jake is taking care of a six-year-old girl who had fallen down the stairs. She’s dehydrated and Izzy’s just tried to put a cannula on her three times before Jake told her to grab the bedside ultrasound and not make the girl cry even more.

Bradley passes by the room and Jake’s learned that he can’t leave a distressed child alone, so he comes in and gets the parents and the girl relaxed. He’s about to go in and tell him to leave it alone until Izzy brings the ultrasound when Nat grabs him by the arm and tells him, “He was in a Rapid Response Team, I’m pretty sure he can put a cannula in blind. Just let him do it.”

And he does let him. Watches, expecting the girl to burst into tears at any moment but she never does. Bradley’s literally been in the room for less than ten minutes and it’s all back to calmness.

Izzy comes back with the ultrasound. It should not have taken her so long to grab it. “What is he doing there? That's my patient.”

"He said he can put the IV line without the ultrasound.” Well, Nat said so. Jake can’t believe he’s saying but, “He’s a peds nurse, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure the girl's parents wouldn’t want him anywhere near her.”

This sets alarm bells in Jake’s head. “What do you mean?”

"People like him shouldn't be around kids," she says, to his horror. She leans in, way closer than needed, and conspiringly whispers, "Dr. Seresin, haven't you known that he is, you know, a she in disguise?"

He’s dumbstruck. "I'm sorry?"

"He's actually a woman, just pretending to be a man because he's mentally—You're the doctor, I'm sure you know better than I how the brains of people like them work. He shouldn't be around that girl, is what I'm saying. I certainly wouldn't like him around my child, if I had one."

Jake didn’t know this about Bradley but he understands what she means, even with how awful she is about it. This, however, should not be a piece of information thrown around in public if Bradley didn't wish to disclose it, and certainly not in such a manner. "And how do you know that, exactly?"

"Nurses share a locker room, it's not hard to notice how she, you know, mutilated herself."

Jake doesn’t say anything out loud but mentally he is preparing datix report in his head. He catches the ER’s nurse manager before he goes home, too, because that’s some shit he doesn’t stand for. He might be an asshole but he’s not a bigot.

Next time he comes to work, Bradley is back in his section and Izzy is no longer employed.

“Thanks,” Bradley says, when they’re at the station, next to each other, in a relatively slow moment. “If I went on my own, we’d have a weeks-long investigation that would probably end with her or me moving to a different unit.”

“She said this shit to your face?”

“Kept calling me she in front of patients,” Bradley admits after a moment. “I think most of them thought they misheard but—I knew.”

“Well, good riddance then.”

Bradley snorts, but he’s looking down at the tablet in his hands, smiling, and wow, the apples of his cheeks are so round and his eyes so bright and Jake can't breathe for a second.

---

(there might be a second part coming because I meant seven-season-long medical drama literally-- including Jake realizing he's an idiot, Mavdad drama, Jake having his hands inside Bradley (in the literal, surgical sense) and jealousy that could rival the McDreamy/Dr. Grey drama)

#this is unrealistic b/c its a med soap drama-like #not the actual chaos of er-like #as in med nonsense to be precise #also I don't know how american ers work #ive talked to a trauma surgeon twice in my life so sorry #i’ve mostly written it while trying to stay awake in the break room at 2am or to not fall asleep on the bus home #still having cluster headaches btw we're just too short-staffed to not go to work even if I have to sit out for an hour in the break room #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #icemav mention #tgm #tgm au #trans bradley rooster bradshaw #<< im going to fill that tag even if it takes me years #op #charlie writes #hangster hospital au

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familial-bondsau · 2 months

Text

Regret

This relates to Familial Bonds

B is fully aware of the mistake she made going along with A and C’s plan to kill Elora but she keeps that memory repressed because she knows that Elenore would likely never forgive her if she found out the truth

Alt version with effect

#murder drones #murder drones au #murder drones familial bonds #murder drones b #md #md au #md familial bonds #md b #digital art #ibispaintx #kekeartz

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withered--s0uls · 1 month

Text

Human & Vampire MD AU concept

Tws: childhood trauma, mention (no description of) child abuse, siblings being separated / taken away from parents, parental death

Disclaimer: I'm a System myself, so any talk about DID/OSDD1 here is based off my experiences and adjusted to fit a fantasy setting. This may not match everyone's experience with being a System and I'm sorry if it doesn't match yours or you don't feel it's accurate enough.

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

Okay, so my Take on a Human/Vampire AU right?

N & Cyn:

N and Cyn are biological siblings. Their birth parents were not good to them. Cyn (not her name at this point) does develop DID because of this as a young child.

A conflict happens in the family and N gets separated from his sister. They lose contact. N has always been her safe person and safe space, so this experience is extremely stressful and traumatizing. This results in the system splitting a factive Introject of him. "N"s job in the system is to take care of the body physically and emotionally when need be and to be a comfort to the other alters (Caretaker/Caregiver/Soother, Emotional Protector). Aside from "N" there already were two other alters before him.

C & Y.

C is a Protector/Avenger and Gatekeeper, she typically deals with conflict and arguments and is more outspoken about things. However, if a situation requires them to seek a hiding spot for safety she will opt for that as well.

Y is a trauma Holder and little who is stuck at the time of the trauma, meaning they don't age up and are forever the age range the body was during the trauma / when the trauma started.

Throughout the next 1-2 years there are two more fully formed alters (the system probably has fragments that aren't as developed too, but I'll only touch on the alters that matter for the AU story).

Cyn & Solver.

Cyn picks her name based on the three alters already existing, She is the new host of the system (prior there wasn't a clear host). Cyns Identity also is what the system uses as their "Singletsona".

Later on the body gets infected with the vampire virus. How I still need to settle on, but I am tempted to make the parents neglect and abuse part of the cause.

The process of turning is painful and traumatic, and Solver splits. In the headspace, Solver takes the form of the body as a vampire.

Solver is a Persecutor (under the definition misguided protector - harming the system and its surroundings as a form of protection).

They and "N" tend to co front for making sure the body feeds, "N" because it's part of his Caretaker job to make sure they eat and drink & Solver bc they're the only alter comfortable with the whole Vampire situation.

Eventually Cyn finally gets taken away from her abusive parents and the system ends up in an orphanage.

Here they socially officially change their name to "Cyn", wanting to separate themselves from their past life and self. The only thing they don't want to forget is N, and they haven't heard from him since they were separated.

Until one day the Elliot Family comes to the Orphanage - or well, the parents and two of their kids. Tessa and their adopted son.

Said Son and Cyn make eye contact and recognize each other as N & his little sister. N pulls his adoptive parents aside and points to Cyn, telling them that he's pretty sure that's his little sister.

After some confirmation, both between the siblings and also with official documents, the family adopts Cyn as well, reuniting the siblings!

It seems fine until the vampire situation becomes an issue. The family doesn't know. The secret and whole vampire thing in general puts stress on the system.

Solver fronts to feed, and ends up feeding off and infecting N and V. Another night it happens again with J. (Harming the body as a form of protection in this case; making the system feel more ashamed and guilty about the vampire situation to be sure they won't tell someone who could actually hurt them.)

N, V and J after turning make sure to keep Cyn fed so Tessa and the parents never get turned.

Also technically Cyn isnt aware of the system beyond thinking the alters are "imaginary friends". Mainly bc many systems dont figure it out until they are much older so I feel making a kid aware of it would be a little inaccurate. Not saying it never happens but still.

N does take note that Cyn sometimes acts "off" but puts it down as not having seen her in 2-3 years and her probably having experienced more trauma since, not to mention the vampire situation once he learns of that.

Uzi:

Uzi lives with her single father Khan. Her mother died when she was really young for reasons Uzi doesn't know of.

Nori was a vampire, however Uzi doesn't know this. Uzi did inherit the virus but it is dormant and inactive.

Uzi is kind of an outcast at school, bullying and all, ever since she can remember. The only person who doesn't really judge her is Thad who hangs out with her sometimes.

This changed when the Elliots adopted N and he switched schools, joining Uzis class. His friendly demeanor causes him to actively try to befriend Uzi, even tho she's more than happy just hanging out with Thad occasionally. Over time however N manages to worm his way into her heart and they become friends and she starts helping him with math homework.

(V, J and Tessa attend the same school but are in parallel classes btw)

They're friends for about 1,5 - 2 years when the whole Cyn reunion and vampire infection happens.

How Uzi finds out about this is still on the table but oh well. Also, Uzis own vampirism becomes active, turning her too. Now here is two ways I can't decide between this could have happened.

N has told her about having turned a vampire, due to suddenly avoiding places with lots of sunlight and preferring evening hangouts and sleepovers over their typical day/afternoon hangouts. Also he stinks of sunscreen lol. --- one time, N desperately needs to feed but they're in a situation where he cannot do it (be it they are at school or on a trip or whatever - he cannot go away to try and find some wild animal to feed off of) so Uzi offers him that he can gave some of her blood. He hesitates, not wanting to hurt her. She insists because he's visibly not okay and she trusts him. He promises he won't turn her (as vampires can choose whether or not to inject the virus into their prey) and they get a quiet corner for him to feed off her. Everything seems fine until the following days Uzi has symptoms of turning. N had kept his promise, but being bitten awakened her own dormant virus. She doesn't know this tho and accuses N of lying to her and purposely turning her. They argue and their friendship takes a huge hit. Uzi turns to V and J instead of him to ask about what to do and how to keep herself fed and relies on V for help on her first few nightly escapes to hunt. Uzi would shut her down whenever she brings up how guilty N feels and how he misses her. She's mad at him until eventually finding out about her mother being a vampire (still deciding how) and then realizing it's not his fault. She feels guilty for blaming him and thinking he would break her trust and she then does everything in her power to make it up to him. He's upset she would think he's lying and genuinely believe that for so long, but he's happy to have her back.

Option 2 is Uzi and one of the vampire siblings both being hurt. They patch each other up and Uzi notices their blood being black (a vamp hc ive had since I was a teen lol) and asks about it, finding out about the situation. However during the patching up of wounds, some of the black blood enters her wound which activates her own vampire virus.

One option for this is that Uzi hurt herself prior to helping N watch Cyn and Cyn gets hurt whilst N isn't in the room. Uzi helps her and in the process Cyns blood gets into Uzis injury.

[ I am open for situation suggestions with N, V and maybe J ]

J & V:

Dont have a lot about them except that J was adopted first, she's a little older than Tessa even. V was adopted alongside N from where they were in the same orphanage.

J doesn't like Uzi when N starts hanging out with her. V does somewhat get along with her tho and helps Uzi when her own Vampirism activates.

Tessa:

Tessa is unaware of her siblings vampirism for the most part. She did notice them seemingly eating less though and is a little worried about that, she makes them snacks she knows they like to try and make sure they eat enough.

I feel if anyone were to tell her, it would be N. And he wouldn't tell that it's all of them. Only him and maybe Cyn, as he can pass that off as "well we ARE biological siblings after all".

Idk that's all I got for now.

Also Nori was either

killed by Khan after he found out she's a vampire

Died due to extended exposure to sunlight

Killed by vampire hunters

Majorly injured by hunters or the sun so Khan had to take her out of her miserly

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jomiddlemarch · 10 months

Text

there are shadows because there are hills

From experience, Grace knew they had Ellie for about twenty solid minutes.

Maybe twenty-five if they pressed her to rinse out her bowl and not just leave it on the table, the spoon listing to one side, the cloth napkin wadded up like an abstract artist’s take on a white peony. She had emerged from her room about two hours after dinner (venison stew, fresh bread, two helpings, her baked apple and most of Joel’s) professing she was close to starvation and was there anything to eat. Joel was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil, so it was Grace who reminded her that she could eat the last of the stew but there would then not be any left for lunch the next day or she could eat some of the baked oats and pears. Ellie thumped around assembling the oats, using up the milk Grace had been saving for breakfast, and settled herself at the table, shoveling in the first few bites while Joel came over and handed Grace a freshly made hot water bottle. He laid a hand on her shoulder for a second, almost chucking her under the chin, a brief caress Ellie wouldn’t notice enough to squint at but stopped short of ruffling her hair, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. She’d set aside the complicated fisherman sweater she was knitting for Ellie but hadn’t gotten up to get the far easier scarf she was making for Ted, mindless work that would have occupied her hands and maybe distracted her.

“Grace, are you sorry you never had kids?” Ellie asked, her mouth only half-full of oatmeal, so that the words were adequately articulated and Grace would probably get the stink-eye if she told Ellie to take human bites or possibly a snarky remark about how offensive a comment like that was considering clickers. She couldn’t very well retort Ellie’s question was offensive, because Ellie would probably wait another decade before she asked anything personal, and because it wasn’t offensive as much as unexpectedly intimate. Joel, sitting across from her in the beat-up armchair that was unofficially his, didn’t say anything but his expression altered subtly, somewhere between apology and concern. And then Ellie spoke again before Grace could answer.

“Especially because you get such bad cramps and shit like now and it’s totally for nothing.”

Fortunately, Ellie then took an obscenely large spoonful of oats, nearly unhinging her jaw to fit it in, and closed her eyes in a moment of bliss, buying Grace at least three seconds to consider her response. And adjust the hot water bottle lower on her belly where the pointless cramps Ellie had referenced continued, alternating between a sharp clawing and deep, aching vise.

What she wouldn’t give for 800 mg of ibuprofen, an 80% cacao dark chocolate bar, and access to a brilliant and patient family therapist.

She had a hot water bottle, half a leftover baked apple, and Joel, looking like a sphinx or the Lincoln Memorial. Stony, however you sliced it. If he shared Ellie’s question, she’d only have a flicker in his dark eyes to go on, but she was answering them both regardless.

“It wasn’t something I thought about for a long time,” she said.

Before, capital B Before, she’d been single, focused on her medical training, trying to keep in touch with her friends from college and get home often enough to keep her parents from giving her the silent treatment when she did come home. Trying to get her act together enough to go on some dates and then keeping her burgeoning relationship with Peter alive despite her on-call schedule and his sixteen hour days as an engineer, trying to make it be a relationship and not just two exhausted people who got along okay and who knew at least their parents would approve of their choice. Kids, plural, a baby singular (or God help her, twins) hadn’t crossed her mind or hardly at all. Most women doctors had their kids in their 30s. It was just that the world ended when Grace was 27.

After, she had been staying alive. Toggling between wanting to desperately and wanting to be put out of her misery. After there had been Kian and maybe one or two daydreams that seemed daring and hopeful and hers, that she hadn’t confided in him, not wanting him to shoot her down or warn her, practically, about the risks of childbirth outside of FEDRA-protected zones and the need to dismantle FEDRA and then they were captured and he was murdered.

She hadn’t thought about children then.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever think about children until she found herself in Jackson, where families existed and the leader got pregnant and rested a hand on the brazen curve of her belly and Joel came into town with a girl who was so clearly his daughter that having a child seemed possible.

Having a child. Not getting pregnant, not after whatever eggs she had left had probably shriveled up or scrambled and she’d be a geriatric primigravida if she even conceived, without access to anything but the most basic prenatal care. It wasn’t something she thought about, not even when she felt the first cramps, always in her back, like a wave cresting. If the wave was made of bayonets.

(Yes, three months ago she’d been late. Late even for her these days which she’d chalked up to perimenopause and then she’d bled heavily and her breasts had been horribly tender, her bras too tight, and she’d gagged brushing her teeth for about two weeks before she’d soaked through her favorite black jeans and had had to be thankful she’d dealt with the clean-up and the laundry before Joel came back from helping Tommy with some rotting window frames and found her with her feet up on the couch and a mug of herbal tea perched just below her navel. She hadn’t told him because there was nothing to tell, and nothing would have hurt him when he didn’t need to be hurt anymore.)

Ellie must have taken the edge off her prodigious appetite (a growth spurt and finally feeling like she had a home were doing a number on their groceries; Grace and Joel often agreed it was a good thing Jackson actually was a commune) because she was eating more moderately. It allowed for more conversation, generally a good thing. Generally allowed for exceptions, like right now.

“But like, are you? Sorry you never had a kid of your own?” Ellie pressed.

“It kind of seems like I do now,” Grace replied.

They lived together, she and Joel made sure Ellie had appropriate clothes for the weather and enough food, did her homework, came home at night. Grace worried about her and she and Joel stayed up late at night talking about her future, dancing around her carrier status and what the Fireflies would do if they found out, where they’d take her, how they’d keep her safe. Ellie got annoyed, stomped around, sometimes cuddled up next to Grace on the couch like Beard’s favorite goat Meriweather butting her head against the man’s hip. She recited endless puns, borrowed Grace’s fleece vest without asking, sassed Joel, broke Grace’s heart when she practiced folk songs on the guitar Joel had gotten for her, singing along under her breath, mimicking his every intonation and pause.

“It’s not the same,” Ellie said.

She was thinking of the mother who’d died after she was born, the one who’d named her and stayed alive long enough to hand her to someone else. She was thinking of Sarah and how Joel spoke of her rarely, the stories Tommy told when Joel wasn’t in the room of how he’d rocked her to sleep every night when she was a baby and how she looked like their Aunt Myrna. She was thinking of Sarah’s mother and Maria and maybe even Tess, who had lost her son in the worst way, the boy he was gone, the clicker he’d become trapped, or worse, wandering somewhere. She was thinking of the way Ted said his son’s name and the shape his hands took when he was talking about him.

“It’s not the same,” Grace agreed. “But it kind of is too.”

She moved the hot water bottle, just an inch maybe, as if it would make a difference. It didn’t.

“You would’ve made a good mom,” Ellie said. “To a little kid, I mean.”

“Thanks.”

She wouldn’t qualify it. She understood what Ellie was trying to say, some of it anyway. It was as much as Ellie could say right now and Joel was listening and watching them both and they all knew it.

“Sucks about your cramps,” Ellie offered.

“I’ll live,” Grace said.

“Before, could they do something?” Ellie asked.

“Some. A lot more than now, but plenty of women, people, still had a terrible time. Sometimes we did surgery if we couldn’t get meds to work,” Grace said. Enough medical history, Ellie really wanted more personal details. “I didn’t have as hard a time when I was younger. My periods were more predictable, manageable.”

She made a point of speaking frankly, not modifying her tone or the words she chose because Joel was in the room. Ellie was his second daughter and they’d all lived through too much for any squeamishness about ordinary bodily functions. Ellie already had to keep a secret about her body and Grace didn’t want her to feel like there had to be any others. Not at home.

“You want some more hot water?” Joel said. “Hot water bottle’s no good if the water isn’t hot anymore.”

“I could get it,” Ellie said. “I’m full, I have to go take care of my dish anyway.”

“Okay. But I think I’ll take it with me to bed,” Grace said.

“G’night, sleep tight, bedbugs and all that,” Ellie said, grinning. Grace grimaced, dramatically, at the bed bugs, as she was supposed to and then nodded at Joel.

“I’ll bring it along to Grace, Ellie,” he said. “Coach wants you up early for practice, you oughta head to bed yourself.”

“How’s this?” Joel asked an hour later, placing his palm very gently against her belly on top of the oversized tee-shirt she’d worn to bed. The hot water bottle had grown cold and Grace had stuck it on the bedside table, trusting it wouldn’t leak on her stack of books. She was curled in on herself, alternating practicing deep breathing and mentally cursing at what seemed like the near-total lack of effectiveness of deep breathing, especially as compared to her memories of NSAIDs, the heavy-duty, stomach-lining-stripping kind that annihilated prostaglandins. Joel had come in, taken a look at her, and quietly and quickly gotten ready for bed, lying on his side at her back, close but not crowding, offering tenderness instead of pity. Or in addition. Unlike some people, Grace didn’t have an issue with being pitied, not when she had to deal with a degree of pain that made her consider whether a hysterectomy was really off the table.

“Better,” she said, relieved by his warmth and by being able to tell the truth.

“Were you lying to Ellie? About havin’ a baby,” he asked. It was a loaded question, especially coming from him, as she was well-aware he’d lied about what happened at the hospital and had her suspicions about what Ellie herself said versus believed. He was asking about Ellie but she knew he meant him; she knew he was daring her to decide whether she’d lied to herself.

“No, I wasn’t,” she said.

“You never answered her,” he said. She let herself stretch out a little and he was still right there behind her, calm, his voice pitched low, like he might start singing to his guitar. “You never said whether you were sorry.”

“That’s not what she was asking,” Grace said.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “Now, though, I’m asking. Are you?”

How could she tell him how she felt? She’d have to know for herself first.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry I never felt like I could even think about it. That it had to be a relief, not getting pregnant, not having a child. There wasn’t any other way for it to be,” she said. “And now it’s too late—”

“I wish it wasn’t,” he said. This would be the moment to tell him what she thought might’ve happened three months ago but then he’d know and they’d both know and know what—a possibility, another loss speculated, not confirmed, a dream they’d either discuss or they wouldn’t. A little while ago, I thought… she’d begin and he’d tense up, his shoulders and his thighs and his forearm but not his hand. He’d keep that light and open against her and she’d feel without consciously knowing how it hurt him. He’d want to ask if she’d been sure (she hadn’t been) and if she’d hoped (she had, kicking herself for it, baffled by it, chalking it up to an evolutionary imperative and the way Joel held baby Kim), if she’d been scared (terrified and also despairing), if she’d have told him before he figured it out.

(She didn’t know. She hadn’t had to find out. That was a small mercy, the smallest. Seemed like the only kind of mercy there was left. Melodramatic, much? dead-Lauren remarked but with all of the kindness Grace missed since her death.)

“Wishes. Those fuckers,” Grace said. Who’re you trying to fool? dead-Lauren asked.

“I’m sorry,” Joel said.

“You don’t have to be. You don’t have to say that,” Grace replied.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean. Not to you. I can be sorry and still not want a baby,” he said. It was an interesting shift. What she wanted, what he wanted. And after all, he’d had a baby and lost her, had almost lost Ellie. “I don’t want one with anyone. I want you safe. I want what we have and I want you to want that too—”

“I do,” she said. She couldn’t prove it to him and he’d probably always wonder.

“I’m not tryin’ to upset you, Gracie. Hell, I was tryin’ to do the opposite. Probably should’ve just shut the fuck up,” he said.

“I told you I felt better,” she said.

“Yeah, before I said anything,” he replied.

“I feel better than that better then,” she said, letting him hear the smile in her voice, the soft sigh that went along with the easing of the pain in her belly, her uterus finally getting with the program and calming the fuck down. Maybe they’d try that next time, trying to fuck their way out of the pain. She dimly recalled glossy women’s magazines recommending it and then taking an extra ibuprofen instead but her options were more limited now.

“You’re a good mother,” he said, startling her. Holding her more closely when she jerked against him in surprise.

“I’m not—you—”

“That’s what Ellie wanted to tell you, but she can’t. I can,” he said, nuzzling the back of her neck, stroking his palm against her slowly. “You don’t have to believe it all the way for it to be true. It’s good to hear it. It’s good to say it.”

“You’ve always struck me as an actions speak louder than words kind of guy,” Grace said.

“Yeah, well, you’re smart but you’re not right about everything. And sometimes, you don’t want loud. You want quiet, so that they pay attention. Take you serious,” he said.

“All right,” she said, then yawned.

“It’s late. You should’ve gone to sleep a long time ago,” he said. “I kept you up.”

“No. I wouldn’t have slept at all without you. And I couldn’t have made any warm milk to try and help—Ellie drank it all.”

Joel laughed. Grace felt herself getting dozier, looser, the pain receding enough she could slip into the darkness. He felt more present, not less, his body a refuge, his voice the counterpoise to her regrets.

“I’ll get up early and get some before breakfast,” he whispered.

“Ted said he’d make strudel,” Grace said.

“Strudel? How the fuck’s he going to—fine, I’ll get the strudel too,” Joel said.

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