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#just need to get through this first week and then reassess

bby-deerling · 5 months

Note

Hi Cille! Love your writing, "Distraction" lives in my mind absolutely rent free. Halfway through reading it, I had to stop and just held onto the wall for a second. Congrats on all your new followers! May I request a Law + Threatened + NSFW? Cheers! -miss

ahh i loved this request! as a special treat i made it with the same reader from distraction and counting coins in mind!

law x afab!fem!reader + threatened (nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 1.0k masterlist song inspo

cw: blood, law is just a smidgen unhinged, fingering, implied oral (reader receiving)

Idling away beneath the crashing waves for weeks on end, it was easy to cast aside the more violent aspects of your partner. Spending your days cooped up in the lab and evenings cooped up in his office, it was easy to shelve all the fact that Law had killed over one hundred pirates with decent sized bounties and sent their hearts in boxes to Marine Headquarters. When he holds you close to his chest in the morning, half-asleep and looking as innocent as the day he was born, your mind and heart weren’t capable of acknowledging anything but the overflowing love and kindness he showed to you during private moments together.

However, the carnage unfolding before you was impossible to ignore.

It was your fault, really; you had gotten yourself mildly injured despite being ordered to fall back. The shift in Law was subtle to the unattuned observer, but you had no doubt in the fact that something in his mind had snapped when he saw crimson liquid trickling down your thigh.

The heat of battle turns some dizzy with rage, but Law’s bloodlust is dark, quiet, and calculated. He doesn’t deviate from his plan, not for one second, but he becomes more sadistic, cruel, and not afraid to spill a bit of unnecessary blood. Less hesitant, he goes through the motions, trusting in his initial strategic instincts rather than hanging back to regularly reassess the situation as he normally would.

As your crewmates celebrate a battle won, none the wiser to your Captain’s shift in attitude, you eye him carefully. It was far from the first time you’ve seen him like this, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it always unnerved you when he was so different from the Law you mill around in coin stores with, or the Law who can’t hide the smile when he sees the notes and doodles you leave on his desk, or the Law who presses sweet kisses into your thigh, playfully teasing you as he makes you unravel for him. An aura of angst and darkness surrounded him, invisible to seemingly everyone else but you; a shiver of anticipation rushes down your spine when he glances at you for a brief moment and his eyes are seemingly darker than his hair.

When you get back to the Polar Tang, Bepo tries to clumsily patch your small scrape up, but you insist it just needed cleaned up a bit, and that you could handle it yourself.

“Leave it until I can take care of it.” Law warns, his glare still intense from the heat of battle. You don’t dare to disobey him when he’s in a touchy mood like this, but you do become impatient as one by one, your crewmates are attended to and sent out of the infirmary. Your injury was extremely minor, so it made sense to treat you last, but you had the gnawing suspicion that even after you had been cleaned up, you would be trapped within these four walls for quite a while; you are proven correct when he locks the door after Penguin finally leaves, staring you down like a leopard stalking its prey and waiting for it to make any sudden moves.

“You didn’t listen to me. Now look at you.” he said lowly. Inhaling deeply, you prepare yourself for a lecture for not being careful enough in battle.

“It’s just a scrape Law, I’m sorry—”

“Get on the bed.”

Wordlessly, you climb onto the cold, sterile hospital bed, heart pounding so hard you hear it in your ears. Law is careful with his footsteps as he approaches, baited by the scent of your viscous, drying blood covering your leg. Even in his haze of anger, frustration, neediness, and bloodlust, he’s careful and calculated as he slowly drags his fingers along the inside of your thigh.

“How come you always listen to me so well, except for when your life is on the line, hm?” he murmurs in your ear, sending a pulse straight to your core. He chuckles at your visible reaction to just his words and a few light touches, and gently traces his tattooed fingers along your clothed slit.

Law was methodical, precise, and loving with his touches—except for the rare moments like these where there is something deeper and rougher bubbling beneath the surface. His mouth is hungry for the taste of your lips, eagerly meeting your tongue with his and leaving harsh bites on your bottom lip each time he pulls away. He’s rough when he pulls your shorts and panties to the side and slides two of his fingers inside of you, muffling your gasps and moans with his own lips.

You grip the thin paper sheet on the bed as he sinks down your torso, but his mouth doesn’t reach your clit. He dips lower, and you gasp out when he licks at the blood on your leg. He moans at the sounds you make as his tongue drags across your wound, sending vibrations through your trembling body. It was mesmerizing, watching him obsessively drink each drop of your blood—of your life’s essence, determined to consume you whole.

And then you kill the mood.

“Is there a certain class of proteins in saliva that make wounds heal faster, or is that a myth?” you ask, immediately biting your tongue when you remember he’s probably in no mood to talk about this right now.

To your surprise, he looks up at you, darkness fading from his eyes and wearing a lopsided grin on his face. “Histatins. The amount of tissue factor also increases the rate of blood clotting.” he says, before dragging his tongue one final time along your little scrape, sinking his fingers deeper inside you at the same time.

“T-think I’d be able to make some synthetically?” you ask, stuttering as you try to string together a coherent sentence.

“Course you can. You’re the smartest woman I know. Not sure how effective it would be in vivo though.” he says, curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot.

You let out a shaky exhale, partly in pleasure and partly in relief. Trafalgar Law is a terrifying monster on the battlefield, and while it is exciting to briefly feel that intensity directed towards you, nothing beat the way that your Law—not the Surgeon of Death or Warlord of the Sea, just Law—looked at you with that dorky smirk and adoration in his eyes as he fucked you with his fingers.

#one piece x reader #x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #mdni #one piece smut #100 follower event

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syrena-del-mar · 3 months

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Blind Spots of Motherhood: Last Twilight, Episode 10

We're coming off of the emotional rollercoaster of last week's episode and seeing the consequences of Day and Mhok's getaway. And the consequences are big, which not even Night can assuage.

I love scouring the tags as I watch Last Twilight, and I've been seeing many call Day's mom evil or a narcissist. In my opinion, she does not fit the bill (if you're looking for one that is, go watch Twins, now that's a narcissist). There's a tendency of wanting to villainize mothers, and BLs do a great job of giving us mothers that do fill that role, but I sincerely don't think that's the story P'Aof is trying to tell us here. Rather than evil, I think her arc is more about being a flawed mother that does more harm than good through overparenting, her perceiving Day to be more vulnerable than he really is, and sidelining of Night.

Stages of Adjustment to Vision Loss

Just like the seven stages of grief, similarly there's a theory about the seven phases of adjusting to vision loss. The Stages of Adjustment applies not only to the one suffering the vision loss, but even their friends and family.

Phase 1: Trauma, where personal attitudes and generalization form one's personal view of a person who is blind takes over.

Phase 2: Shock and Denial. Self-explanatory.

Phase 3: Mourning and Withdrawal, it's where the loss of regular activities and routines occur.

Phase 4: Succumbing and Depression occurs when an individual is unable to come to terms with the sudden low vision/blindness and they stop caring for themselves. Feelings of inadequacy becomes prevalent.

Phase 5: Reassessment and Reaffirmation occurs when individuals regain and maintain control of their life. Loved ones play a significant role in assisting them to reach this independence at this stage.

Phase 6: Coping and Mobilization happens when individuals develop coping techniques to live with the vision loss and acknowledge their abilities and accept when the need assistance.

Phase 7: Self-Acceptance and Self-Esteem occurs when the individual realizes that they have value and their loss of vision is just one of the many attributes.

When the Last Twilight first started, we met Day as he was dealing with Phase 3 and 4. With the help of Mhok, we've seen Day grow in his independence, but also come to terms that his vision loss may be forever. He no longer was thinking and hoping for that transplant surgery, he wasn't even counting on it anymore. Instead, with the help of Mhok (and Night), Day was able to reach Phase 6 and was transitioning into Phase 7.

But just as Day was moving on with his, his mother wasn't. She's still struggling with his disability and has gotten stuck in Phase 3 and 4, just as Day had been. She's so blinded by Day's disability, that she's drowning in the fears of what could happen to Day rather than seeing the strides of improvement that he has made.

Overprotective Parenting fails in Harm Reduction: Day

"Expecting him to be independent at one time and overprotecting him at another will only result in a frustrated youngster. It is important to judge and treat the blind child fairly; not indulging him, yet not setting goals and expectations so high that he is discouraged." -The Blind Child: Becoming an Independent Adult

Day's mother is frustrating, to say the least. She is so incredibly misguided in how she treats both of her sons, it's no surprise that Day locks himself away into the cavern of his bedroom.

She only sees Day for his disability. Acknowledging and accepting that Day is blind is important, and that does signify life adjustments, but that doesn't mean making Day's blindness the only thing about him. She forgets that Day was a full-functioning adult that had his own lifestyle before he lost his sight. She's only come to known Day for his blindness. She's the one that puts his blindness at the forefront.

She wants him to get out of his bedroom, to stop locking people out, but once he has some sense of independence, apart from his family, now she's afraid? Her son, vision loss or no vision loss, is an adult, but instead of giving him such dignity, she regresses and infantilizes him. She pushes him back into that suffocatingly big bedroom. She takes away his phone, his internet, every tool that connects him to the outside world. She takes away what little independence he had started to build up again.

Any good parent would be worried about their child who has undergone a traumatic event, but over-protecting does more harm than good. In her anxieties, she ends up resorting to using unintentionally abusive tactics. Yes, Day would be physically fine, but in her overprotectiveness, she fails to realize that it could lead to dependency inducement, learned helplessness, and bouts of depression. Day's mother fails to realize that taking away any autonomy that Day has only started rebuilding, would only result in Day's emotional state worsening.

Blindness doesn't have to mean debilitating, but locking your son up in his room without any way to interact with the world around him that he is trying to relearn? That's more crippling than any vision loss could ever be.

Readjusting as the Glass Child: Night

"The most egregious form of rejection that anyone can ever experience is parental rejection" -Is Rejection, Parental Abandonment or Neglect a Trigger for Higher Perceived Guilt in Adolescents

Oh man, the pain I felt for Night this whole episode was next level. The idea of a glass child is not one's delicateness but rather as a sibling of a individual with disabilities, the sibling becomes invisible to the parents, only seen when the parents need them. If it wasn't obvious before, it's clear that this was the role that their mother was forcing Night into.

There's nothing that hurts worse than the sharp words of a mother directed to her child. His mother explicitly blaming Night for Day's disability was a new low-blow. Night had already been beating himself up for the accident, his father (who doesn't even live with them) knew that, but seemingly their mother was oblivious. The only one that Night could rely on was an outsider, a father that they hadn't been in contact with for years. Their mother created that environment by not paying attention to her other son, who was also in that accident.

Nothing fuels sibling rivalry like preferential treatment from parents. Even worse when one has to be the caretaker of the other when they already have a fractured relationship. Instead of easing the tension between the two brothers, their mother is too busy worrying solely for Day without accounting for Night. Caretaker burnout is already incredibly exhausting when you're caring for a loved one, but Night has personal guilt and Day's resentment to deal with as well. Not once does their mother ask him how he's doing, if Night is alright.

Night is the forgotten child, the child that's expected to take care of his brother no matter what, no matter how independent Day has become. She has parentified Night without any consideration of how he was doing or what was going on in his life. This was probably already a running theme as they grew up, assuming from their positioning in the family portrait. In doing so, she unknowingly worsens the strife with the brothers, making Day believe that Night had only been "behaving well" in order to win some preferential treatment from her.

Even on Christmas, their mother only cares for Day, feeding him first and putting food on his spoon, body fully turned against Night. In that scene, visually Night seems like he's intruding and he feels it as well! It's why he excuses himself, saying that he's going to meet up with some friends. Even after being forgiven by Day, his mother doesn't make any effort to include Night other than just having him at the table. It's as if he wasn't part of their nuclear family, just a convenient body that is there to help out as Day adjusts to his new life. If it hadn't been for Day, Night would have left that table that night and would have believed that nobody cared for him. I'm hoping this makes her confront and reassess how she's treated Night, now and in the past.

It's ironic, even though Day is blind and held a lot of contempt for his brother, he was still saw Night and all his struggles. Meanwhile, their mother was seeing right through him, blaming him for what happened to Day. Driving a dagger, that Night had already stabbed himself with, even deeper.

Final Thoughts

I'm not quite ready to jump on the 'Mother Gothel' train for Day and Night's mom. I think she is juggling being a career woman and being a mother at the same time, while failing to adjust to Day's blindness and making mistakes in her parenting as a result.

I also don't think it's out of maliciousness or self-importance, either. When I see their mother, it's as if she's trying to save a sinking boat that is already pierced by numerous holes. There's no going back to their lives before Day's blindness. She needs to adjust her priorities, because disregarding Night and locking up Day is not the answer.

This episode was frustrating, not because I found her to be outright abusive, but because of her worries she ends up hurting her sons even more. No parent is perfect, and they can hurt you while thinking they're acting in your best interest, but they have to be willing to love and let their kids learn on their own.

#last twilight #lol I think I lost most of my reasoning when working on Night’s part bc I was getting upset oops #last twilight episode 10 #last twilight meta #mhokday #morkday #last twilight mhok #last twilight day #last twilight night #jimmy jitaraphol #sea tawinan #mark pakin #thai bl #thai bl meta #aof noppharnach #steph rambles #last twilight the series

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meetinginsamarra · 10 months

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My fave Sherlock BBC tropes: Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Around mid-month I’ll do a fic rec list with my fave AU genres or tropes. Summaries are taken from OP on AO3.

Enemy Number One by lookupkate

When Anderson finally crosses a line and gets fired a new pathologist takes his place. Sherlock isn't happy to find that the new doctor is almost as good at his job as Sherlock is. Said new doctor, John Watson, wants to woo the genius until he finds out what a prick he can be. Then he's just amused. And maybe a bit fond. And kind of smitten. Then he falls in love with the prick. Bloody hell.

Oscillation by lookupkate

John and Mary have been together for two years and John thinks they should probably settle down. John is happy with Mary. It's the only way their situation makes sense, so it must be happiness. Sherlock sees a flaw in that logic. What does John do then, when the strange man brings parts of his life into question and refuses to just bloody go away? Well, fall in love with him, of course.

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42 @alexxphoenix42

John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn't need the headache.

Mistletoe and Misdemeanours by Robottko

When Victor Trevor backs out of the Holmes family Christmas at the last minute, Sherlock panics because he has no way to impress his parents. Thankfully there is a handsome army doctor with nowhere to go in his coffee shop, though it would be more helpful if he were a bit more willing.

An Everlasting Inferno by thatawkwardfriend

Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing.

They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together.

(Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)

The Key to Castles in the Air by LadyKailitha

John is a clerk (and writing a book on the side) at a bookshop run by Mrs Hudson. The one downside to this perfect job is Sherlock Darling, Mrs Hudson's friend who loves to rile John up. About everything.

All that changes when they are forced to spend a week together in the country when bad weather hits. Sherlock's got secrets. What will John do once he finds them out?

Pencil Through My Heart by elwinglyre @elwinglyre

What’s worse? Sharing a byline with an arrogant consulting reporter or falling for him? Seasoned section editor John Watson faces this impossible choice. But first John must find him. Of course Holmes is out chasing the story of the century without him! In the process, Watson must reassess who and what he is, and even worse, admit he cares.

Aim for the Head by Breath4Soul

Sometimes you don't really find yourself until everything has ended. A fic about finding love, healing, and purpose after everything has gone to hell.

As if the doctor can read Sherlock's thoughts, he holds out a protein bar in the space between them. Sherlock’s eyes narrow on the man and flick to the bar with an expression of disgust. “You're at least one stone underweight,” the soldier states matter-of-factly, confirming for Sherlock, in yet another way, that he is a doctor. “Eating slows me down,” Sherlock grumbles. “No, fainting does.” The army doctor smiles kindly, patiently. Sherlock looks at him with confusion. “What do you care?” Sherlock snaps. The soldier’s smile deepens and he gives a casual shrug, turning his eyes to the road a moment. “You faint; we crash.” The soldier’s eyes slide back to Sherlock with their placid expression.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada, ShinySherlock @ishipanarmada

(also on pirate and mermaid AU rec list)

Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose--is it a pirate's life for him?

Dive by FinAmour @finamour

It’s John’s third year of studying abroad at Harvard, and he’s still struggling to fit in. On a cold night in December, he finds his girlfriend with another man—and meets a tall, gorgeous bartender with horrible manners that he can’t stop thinking about. Just as John falls for him, madly, swiftly, deeply—the bartender disappears, and the bar unexpectedly shuts down. Unexplained occurrences begin to happen to John and his friends, and he slowly discovers the truth about the one he loves. Will he find him in time to tell him how he feels, and more importantly—can he keep him safe?

Synchronicity by Calais_Reno @calaisreno

Excerpt: John is just muttering some nonsense about bit different from my day when they enter the lab. A tall fellow with dark, curly hair is using a pipette to drop some liquid into a Petri dish. Hearing John’s voice, he looks up. Sherlock Holmes. They both freeze for a moment. He stares into those grey eyes that haven’t changed, still seeing every detail. Holmes gives a tiny smirk. “Afghanistan or Iraq?” It’s been years, and he is surprised at how much it still hurts. Realising that he’s staring, he clears his throat, shuffles his feet, and mumbles something about an appointment he’s forgotten.

OR: John and Sherlock meet again, years after they were school boys together. John hasn't forgotten why he still hates Sherlock Holmes.

The Company He Keeps by wibblywobblytimeywimeystuff

At his lowest point, John Watson met Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock saved him. At Sherlock's lowest point, he met Greg Lestrade. And they saved each other. This is how Greg met Sherlock, how he met Mycroft, and how he became important to them both.

Toe to Toe by standbygo @blogstandbygo

(also on soldier and spy AU rec list)

Sherlock Holmes is an international ballet star. After a favour for his brother goes south, he finds himself trapped in a foreign country, with a man named John Watson who could be an enemy... or an ally. A crossover of sorts with White Nights, the 1985 film with Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gregory Hines.

If Baker Street Could Talk by a_different_equation @adifferentequation

There is a thin wall between 221b and 221c. As if by fate, it has separated two sitting rooms that now are almost morphing back into one. One of the sitting rooms belongs to Sherlock Holmes (43), a pianist, while the other one belongs to Dr John H. Watson (45), whatever he might be after everything. John is a war hero, an ex-surgeon and a widower; John tells everyone that he is developing a game that might take a lifetime. There might be a wall between them, but Sherlock Holmes and John Watson cannot be separated.

#my fanfic recs #my fave Sherlock BBC AUs #my fave Sherlock BBC tropes #my fave AUs #enemies to friends to lovers

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shai-manahan · 4 months

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Hollowed Minds Progress Update 1/02/24

Hi! I hope you're all having a good year so far! I planned to post this last night but I was too anxious over having to return to work lmfao (with the holidays being over and all). Anyway, I know it's been a year since my last update; believe me, I'm upset about it, too, and I'm trying to make up for that.

To be completely honest, aside from my health, one thing that's been stopping me from progressing steadily was my attempts at improving the way I write. I was struggling to find my own style the entire year, experimenting over and over (sometimes without rest, like an idiot), and I know that probably sounds stupid, but writing as a craft is so special to me that I want to be better at it.

It did backfire, though. A lot. Mostly because I couldn't maintain a balance between this and irl stuff.

The thing is, I plan to write trad novels and short stories in the future. I plan to go back to writing screenplays, too. I don't think I'll ever stop making IFs, but there are things I want to write about that I can never do through this medium (and the same is true vice versa). This is also why I tend to keep editing HM while trying to push through with newer updates; this is the only way I can learn more about what I wish to do in the future. This is my chance to practice and experiment, before I get anything published and make the kind of impression I aim to make.

And I think I finally found the style I love to use the most this time.

I feel ready now to post progress updates regularly at least every two weeks (this one doesn't count). I was ashamed of my slow progress for quite a while, but I know I can start moving forward again. I'm also just eager to show you the story I've always wanted to share, and that'd never happen unless I push myself so :').

You're free to ask for progress in case I miss doing this btw, just. don't be an ass about it lmao. And feel free to send asks as well!

So far, this is what I'm trying to improve for the posted demo:

conciseness

strengthening the settings and the descriptions involving them

revising a few dialogues that do not fit the characters at all

readability and making some details clearer

overall pacing of ch2's first part

the nightmare scenes

reassessment of which variations would be most important to the plot and MC's characterization.

everything else I cannot think of right now

I think I'll dedicate a week or two into finishing whatever needs to be cleaned up so there'll be less game-breaking bugs that might happen for the new content. But after that 👀

That's all for tonight!

P.S. recently bought a lampshade and damn. this is definitely much better for my eyes when I write.

#hollowed minds series #interactive fiction #hollowed minds #wip #writing #progress update #hollowed minds progress update #hollowed minds book one #if wip #interactive novel

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mariacallous · 10 months

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Shira Fishbach, a newly graduated physician, was sitting in an orientation session for her first year of medical residency when her phone started blowing up. It was June 24, 2022, and the US Supreme Court had just handed down its decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, nullifying the national right to abortion and turning control back to state governments.

Fishbach was in Michigan, where an abortion ban enacted in 1931 instantly came into effect. That law made administering an abortion a felony punishable by four years in prison, with no exceptions for rape or incest. It was a chilling moment: Her residency is in obstetrics and gynecology, and she viewed mastering abortion procedures as essential to her training.

“I suspected during my application cycle that this could happen, and to receive confirmation of it was devastating,” she recalls. “But I had strategically applied where I thought that, even if I didn't receive the full spectrum, I would at least have the support and the resources to get myself to an institution that would train me.”

Her mind whirled through the possibilities. Would her program help its residents go to an access-protecting state? Could she broker an agreement to go somewhere on her own, arranging weeks of extra housing and obtaining a local medical license and insurance? Would she still earn her salary if she left her program—and how would she fund her life if she did not?

In the end, she didn’t need to leave. That November, Michigan voters approved an amendment to the state constitution that made the 1931 law unenforceable, and this April, Governor Gretchen Whitmer repealed the ban. Fishbach didn’t have to abandon the state to learn the full range of ob-gyn care. In fact, her program at the University of Michigan, where she’s now a second-year resident, pivoted to making room for red-state trainees.

But the dizzying reassessment she underwent a year ago provides a glimpse of the challenges that face thousands of new and potential doctors. Almost 45 percent of the 286 accredited ob-gyn programs in the US now operate under revived or new abortion bans, meaning that more than 2,000 residents per year—trainee doctors who have committed to the specialty—may not receive the required training to be licensed. Among students and residents, simmering anger over bans is growing. Long-time faculty fear the result will be a permanent reshaping of American medicine, driving new doctors from red states to escape limitations and legal threats, or to protect their own reproductive options. That would reduce the number of physicians available, not just to provide abortions, but to conduct genetic screenings, care for miscarriages, deliver babies, and handle unpredictable pregnancy risks.

“I worry that we’re going to see an increase in maternal morbidity, differentially, depending on where you live,” says Kate Shaw, a physician and associate chair of ob-gyn education at Stanford Medicine. “And that’s just going to further enhance disparities that already exist.”

Those effects are not yet visible. The pipeline that ushers medical graduates through physician training is about a decade long: four years of school plus three to seven years of residency, sometimes with a two-year, sub-specialty fellowship afterward. Thus actions taken in response to the Dobbs decision—people eschewing red-state schools or choosing to settle in blue states long-term—might take a while to be noticeable.

But in this year, some data has emerged that suggests trends to come. In February, a group of students, residents and faculty surveyed 2,063 licensed and trainee physicians and found that 82 percent want to work or train in states that retain abortion access—and 76 percent would refuse to apply in states that restrict it. (The respondents worked in a mix of specialties; for those whose work would include performing abortions, the proportion intending to work where it remains legal soared above 99 percent.)

Then in April, a study from the Association of American Medical Colleges drawing on the first round of applications to residency programs after Dobbs found that ob-gyn applications in states with abortion restrictions sank by 10 percent compared to the previous year. Applications to all ob-gyn programs dropped by 5 percent. (Nationwide, all applications to residency went down 2 percent from 2021 to 2022.)

Last month, two preliminary pieces of research presented at the annual meeting of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists uncovered more perturbations. In Texas—where the restrictive law SB8 went into effect in September 2021, nine months before Dobbs—a multi-year upward trend in applications to ob-gyn residency slowed after the law passed. And in an unrelated national survey, 77 percent of 494 third- and fourth-year medical students said that abortion restrictions would affect where they applied to residency, while 58 percent said they were unlikely to apply to states with a ban.

That last survey was conducted by Ariana Traub and Kellen “Nell” Mermin-Bunnell, two third-year medical students at Emory University School of Medicine in Atlanta—which lies within a state with a “fetal heartbeat” law that predates Dobbs and that criminalizes providing an abortion after six weeks of pregnancy. The law means that students in clinical rotations are unlikely to witness abortions and would not be allowed to discuss the procedure with patients. It also means that, if either of them were to become pregnant while at med school, they would not have that option themselves.

Before they published the survey, the two friends conducted an analysis of how bans would affect medical school curricula, using data collected in the summer of 2022. They predicted that only 29 percent of the more than 129,000 medical students in the US would not be affected by state bans. The survey gave them a chance to sample med students’ feelings about those developments, with the help of faculty members. They also founded a nonprofit, Georgia Healthcare Professionals for Reproductive Justice. “We're in a unique position, as individuals in the health care field but not necessarily medical professionals yet,” Traub says. “We have some freedom. So we felt like we had to use that power to try to make change.”

Ob-gyn formation is caught between opposing forces. Just over half of US states have passed bans or limitations on abortion that go beyond the Roe v. Wade standard of fetal viability. But the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education, a nonprofit that sets standards for residency and fellowship programs, has always required that obstetric trainees learn to do abortions, unless they opt out for religious or moral reasons. It reaffirmed that requirement after the Dobbs decision. Failure to provide that training could cause a program to lose accreditation, leaving its graduates ineligible to be licensed.

The conflict between what medicine demands and state laws prevent leaves new and would-be doctors in restrictive states struggling with their inability to follow medical evidence and their own best intentions. “I’m starting to take care of patients for the first time in my life,” says Mermin-Bunnell, Traub’s survey partner. “Seeing a human being in front of you, who needs your help, and not being able to help them or even talk to them about what their options might be—it feels morally wrong.”

That frustration is equally evident among trainees in specialties who might treat a pregnant person, prescribe treatments that could imperil a pregnancy, or care for a pregnancy gone wrong. Those include family and adolescent medicine, anesthesiology, radiology, rheumatology, even dermatology and mental health.

“I’m particularly interested in oncology, and I’ve come to realize that you can’t have the full standard of gynecologic oncology care without being able to have access to abortion care,” says Morgan Levy, a fourth-year medical student in Florida who plans to apply to ob-gyn residency. Florida currently bans abortion after 15 weeks; a further ban, down to six weeks, passed in April but has been held up by legal challenges. In three years of med school so far, Levy received one lecture on abortion—in the context of miscarriage—and no clinical exposure to the procedure. “It is a priority for me to make sure that I get trained,” she says.

But landing in a training program that encourages abortion practice is more difficult than it looks. Residency application is an algorithm-driven process in which graduates list their preferred programs, and faculty rank the trainees they want to teach. For years, there have been more applicants than there are spaces—and this year, as in the past, ob-gyn programs filled almost all their slots. What that means, according to faculty members, is that some applicants will end up where they do not want to be.

“Students and trainees do exert their preferences, but they also need to get a training spot,” says Vineet Arora, the dean for medical education at the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine and lead author on the survey published in February. “Would they forgo a training spot because of Dobbs? That's a tall order, especially in a competitive field. But would they be happy about it? And would they want to stay there long term?”

That is not a hypothetical question. According to the medical-colleges association, more than half of residents stay to practice in the states where they trained. But it’s reasonable to ask whether they would feel that loyalty if they were deprived of training or forced to relocate. “If even a portion of the 80 percent of people who prefer to practice and train in states that don't have abortion bans follow through on those preferences, those states that are putting in abortion bans—which often have workforce shortages already—will be in a worse situation,” Arora says.

An ACOG analysis estimated in 2017 that half of US counties, which are home to 10 million women, have no practicing ob-gyn. When the health care tech firm Doximity examined ob-gyn workloads in 2019, seven of the 10 cities it identified as having the highest workloads lie in what are now very restrictive states. Those shortages are likely to worsen if new doctors relocate to states where they feel safe. The legal and consulting firm Manatt Health predicted in a white paper last fall: “The impact on access to all OB/GYN care in certain geographies could be catastrophic.”

Faculty are struggling to solve the mismatch between licensing requirements and state prohibitions by identifying other ways residents can train. They view it as protecting the integrity of medical practice. “Any ob-gyn has to be able to empty the uterus in an emergency, for abortion, for miscarriage, and for pregnancy complications or significant medical problems,” says Jody Steinauer, who is vice-chair of ob-gyn education at UC San Francisco.

Steinauer directs the Kenneth J. Ryan Residency Training Program, a 24-year-old effort to install and reinforce clinical abortion training. Even before Dobbs, that was hard to come by: In 2018, Steinauer and colleagues estimated that only two-thirds of ob-gyn residency programs made it routine, despite accreditation requirements—and that anywhere from 29 to 78 percent of residents couldn’t competently perform different types of abortion when they left training. In 2020, researchers from UCSF and UC Berkeley documented that 57 percent of these programs face limitations set by individual hospitals more extreme than those set by states.

Before Dobbs, the Ryan program brokered individual relocations that let trainees temporarily transfer to other institutions. Now it is working to set up program-to-program agreements instead, because the logistics required to visit for a rotation—the kind of arrangements Fishbach dizzily imagined a year ago—are more complex than most people can manage on their own. And not only on the visiting trainee: Programs already perform delicate calculations of how many trainees they can take given the number of patients coming to their institutions and the number of faculty mentors.

Only a few places have managed to institutionalize “away rotations,” in which they align accreditation milestones, training time, and financing with other institutions. Oregon Health & Science University’s School of Medicine is about to open a formal program that will accept 10 to 12 residents from restrictive states for a month each over a year. Oregon imposes no restrictions on abortion, and both the med school’s existing residents and the university’s philanthropic foundation supported the move.

“I'm very concerned about having a future generation that knows how to provide safe abortion care—because abortion will never go away; becoming illegal only makes it less safe,” says Alyssa Colwill, who oversees the new program and is an assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology. “There are going to be patients that are going to use unsafe methods because there's no other alternative. And providers are going to be placed in scenarios that are heartbreaking, and are devastating to watch.”

The accreditation council now requires programs that cannot train their own residents in abortion to support them in traveling somewhere else. But even at schools that are trying to accommodate as many learners as possible, trainees can attend for only a month—the maximum that fully enrolled programs in safe states can afford. After that, they must go back home, leaving them less-trained than their counterparts. As faculty look forward, they fear a slow spiral of decay in obstetric knowledge.

This isn’t imaginary: Already, research has shown that physicians practicing in red states are less likely to offer appropriate and legal procedures to treat miscarriages. Receiving abortion training, in other words, also improves medical care for pregnancy loss.

“Ultimately, I do not think there is capacity to train every resident who wants training,” says Charisse Loder, a clinical assistant professor of ob-gyn at the University of Michigan Medical School, who directs the program where Fishbach is training. “So we will have ob-gyn residents who are not trained in this care. And I think that is not only unfortunate, but puts patients in a position of being cared for by residents who don't have comprehensive training.”

Doing only short rotations also returns residents to places where their own reproductive health could be put at risk. Future physicians are likely to be older than in previous generations, having been encouraged to get life experience and sample other careers before entering med school. Research on which Levy and Arora collaborated in 2022 shows that more than 11 percent of new physicians had abortions during their training. Because of the length of training, they also may be more likely to use IVF when they are ready to start families—and some reproductive technologies may be criminalized under current abortion bans.

As a fourth and final-year psychiatry resident, Simone Bernstein had thought about abortion restrictions through the lens of her patients’ mental health, as she talked to them about fertility treatment and pregnancy loss. As cofounder of the online platform Inside the Match, she had listened to residents’ reactions to Dobbs (and collaborated on research with Levy and Arora). She had not expected the decision to affect her personally—but she is in Missouri, a state where there is an almost complete ban on abortion. And this spring, she experienced a miscarriage at 13 weeks of pregnancy.

“I was worried whether or not I could even go to the hospital, if my baby still had a heartbeat, which was a conversation that I had to have with my ob-gyn on the phone,” she says. “It didn’t come to that; I caught the baby in my hands at home, hemorrhaging blood everywhere, and the baby had already passed away. But until that moment, I didn't recognize the effects that [abortion restrictions] could have on me.”

This is the reality now: There exist very few places in the US where abortion is uncomplicated. Faculty and their trainees do not expect that to change, except for the worse. Staying in the field, and making sure the next generation is prepared, requires commitment that they will have to sustain for years.

“Part of the reason why I sought advanced training in abortion and contraception is because I think there will be a national ban,” says Abigail Liberty, an ob-gyn and fellow in her sixth postgraduate year at OHSU. “I think it will happen in our lifetime. And I see my role as getting as much expertise and training as I can now and providing care while I can. And then coming out of retirement, when abortion will be legal again, and training the next generation of physicians.”

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lordgrimwing · 11 days

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Accidents #01

“Celebrían,” her father said, sounding slightly frazzled.

That alone was enough to put her on high alert; Celeborn did not frazzle easily. She held the phone closer to her ear. What came next did nothing to calm Celebrían’s nerves.

“First, I need you to know that Elrond is alright.”

“Dad,” she said, setting aside the recipe book she’d been pursuing while deciding if she wanted to cook or go out somewhere to eat. “That’s not a good start.”

Elrond went to visit Celeborn over the weekend. More accurately, her father called midway through last week to inform her that he’d booked a plane ticket for her boyfriend and that he expected to see him in Eriador in ten days. She suspected her mother’s hand in the sudden arrangement, but her father said he just wanted to get to know his future son-in-law before they picked a wedding date. Since Elrond seemed to never be available on holidays, Celeborn arranged an open weekend in his schedule during a quick trip back to the country while Galadriel moved her office from Gondor to Doriath. He promised to return him to her by Sunday night, wished her a very nice day, and hung up. Bemused by the whole conversation, Celebrían told Elrond that he’d better find time for the trip or her father might just object at their wedding.

So, her father calling late Saturday to say that was not reassuring at all.

Celeborn cleared his throat softly. She could almost see the way he’d tilt the flip phone’s microphone away and cover his mouth with his other hand. It wasn’t quite a nervous habit, but something he tended to do during uncomfortable conversations. He continued. “But it is the most important information, and I want you to know that everything is okay before I go on.”

“Dad, please tell me what’s happened.” There was background noise on the call but it was too indistinct to get an idea of where he was other than somewhere with people.

“Well,” her father said. “We’re at a hospital.”

“A hospital!” She exclaimed, cutting him off. “Why? Please, tell me what happened.”

“Oh, excuse me. Thank you,” Celeborn said softly, clearly speaking to someone else before returning to her. “There was a little accident with a horse.”

She restrained herself from interrupting again, though the assertion that Elrond was very good with horses and could easily out-ride her sprang to the tip of her tongue. She was not going to hear the whole story if she kept interjecting.

“You mentioned that he rides, and I thought we might do that—you can tell a lot about someone by how they treat animals.” The adage was well-worn and one he liked to repeat before inviting politicians and their families to come riding with him. Her mother had little interest (or time) in riding herself, but she paid attention to what her husband had to say afterward. “Really, if he’d been less competent it might have gone better; he probably would have fallen off when the horse spooked. As it is, she fell on him instead and hurt his leg.

“Nothing’s broken, but he was in quite a bit of pain and may have sprained a couple of ribs, so the doctor here wants him to stay overnight so they can reassess tomorrow and maybe do some more imaging of his leg for muscle tears once the swelling goes down. So you see, the doctor has everything under control, Elrond says they know what they’re talking about, and everything is alright. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Celebrían sighed, somewhat modified by the explanation. She wasn’t quite satisfied, though. Celeborn wasn’t one to downplay the severity of a situation just to make things sound better, but he also wasn’t very comfortable with medical topics (or blood or needles), so his understanding might not reflect the whole situation.

“Can I talk to him?” She asked.

“Oh, yes, of course. Just one moment.”

Indistinct words and then, “Hi, Celebrían,” Elrond said. He sounded tired but okay.

“Hey, how are you doing? Dad told me about what happened.”

“I’ve been better, but I’m alright. Kind of stuck in a hospital bed, though, so I guess I’m a captive audience for him now.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Really, ‘Brían, it’s fine. I think the doctor’s being overly cautious, but your dad kind of looked like he might panic if I didn’t agree to everything and the hospital accepted my insurance, so there’s no harm.”

“I’m glad you aren’t hurt too bad. Sorry the weekend’s turned into a mess.” She knew he didn’t have much free time outside of everything he did for school.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said like he was trying to cheer her up. “One time, I fell off my horse, and Uncle Celegorm let his hunting dogs chase me around until I climbed up a tree. I had to stay there until my dads found us and told him to call them off… Uh, there was a point to that story, but I don’t remember it now. I guess, at least I’m not stuck up a tree this time?”

Celebrían pressed her lips into a line. She had feelings about Elrond’s family based on his childhood stories (and how he told them, as though what happened was completely normal), but this wasn’t the time to say anything about that. “Are you on pain drugs?” She asked instead.

“Morphine, 0.1 mg/kg, q 4 hours.”

“Okay.” She didn’t understand much of that, but he was on something. “I’ll let you rest. Could you hand me back to my dad?”

“Sure,” He said, then quickly added, “Bye, Brían. Love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, not sure he heard.

“See?” Her father said after a moment. “He’s doing just fine.”

She sighed. “Yes, thanks for not doing any lasting damage to my boyfriend, Dad.”

He chuckled.

“Don’t ask him too many questions while he’s on drugs, okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ll somehow restrain myself in this wonderful opportunity to get to know him better.”

“Dad, I’m serious. He’s a nice guy, and I don’t want things to get weird between you two just because you’re curious.” The odds of Elrond holding a grudge over something like this seemed quite small, but this was also his first time meeting her dad, and it wasn’t fair for Celeborn to interrogate him.

“I promise not to make things weird between us.”

“Thank you.”

“I—Oh,” he interrupted himself. “A nurse is coming in, I'm going to let you go.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.”

The beeped as he hung up. Celebrían lowered the phone from her ear and looked down at it. This weekend just kept taking unexpected turns.

A text message popped up on the screen with a soft chime. She tapped on it, opening the message thread with Glorfindel.

‘hey,’ the text started. ‘erestor bailed on dinner becaus, and i quote, the lab will literally burn down if he leaves rn and he’ll have to start his whole project again. So i have a restaurant reservation and no date. You nd Elrond want to go?’

‘El’s out of town :( ‘ She typed back.

His reply came a moment later. ‘wanna go with me?’

Another text came through while she was typing. ‘feels odd to go alone but i SWEAR erestor’s going to try this miso tuna and chocoflan one way or another’

Why not? She thought to herself. She couldn’t do anything for Elrond other than worry, which certainly wouldn’t do any good.

‘Sure. I’m happy to come.’

‘Great. i have the car today for reasons so i’ll pick you up arounf 7:20?’

‘Sounds good.’

#decided to give glorfindel a break this week #of course i forgot that elrond went through a breakup last time but oh well he can have all the problems i want to give him #excuse the likely bogus human medical stuff #celebrian #celeborn #elrond #glorfindel #twdd au #the silmarillion #grimwing writes

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itsjustagoober · 6 months

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So, uhhhhhhh.

Howdy y'all. Been a minute since I've really been around here. I mean, yes I've been reblogging and stuff, but like...that's roughly all the time I've had to do? Just pop in for a bit or so, reblog and head off again.

Gonna do my best to keep it short, but I'll also put it under the cut to keep the base post short to most. Here goes nothing, I guess?

TL;DR: A family emergency back in June literally caused my entire summer, which I had originally planned to be my most creative and focused time for projects and art and stuff, to be watching after and living with a family member up until the first week of October to make sure they would be okay. I then took a week vacation this past week to visit my girlfriend and I was so relaxed I didn't do anything else, either. I am gonna need time to get back into the groove on here as I process and reassess what I wanna do for my blogs for the rest of the year and from here out.

To start, I am very glad that I made sure my great uncle was fine for sure, the whole time I was living with him. I just also realized that, now that it's over, being his immediate caretaker for three-to-four months? Life really stole my summer and everything fun I wanted to do this year. It sucks. It's not entirely his fault, but hrrrrmgle.

So, June. I was hearing how wet and frequent his coughs were and was trying to get him to go to Urgent Care/go see his primary (which he assured me he didn't have one when I always am the one making his appointments for him), but he continued to refuse and fight me the entire way. He does this to everyone who tries to tell him how to do something he doesn't want to hear, so I just took it and knew he'd realize sooner or later this was a losing battle on his side.

That came the day he went for his dentist appointment and he ended up having a cardiac episode in the chair before they started. They called me right back and I took him to the hospital. They gave him so much stuff to bring his heart rate down, like holy shit. Thankfully, since the dentist didn't start with anything, there was nothing to worry about with drugs fighting with other drugs. I stayed there until his stepdaughter finally got off of work and I was allowed to go home after a pretty draining and traumatic day.

Oh, that reminds me. I said it wasn't wholly his fault about how this summer turned out. That's because there's another character here, his stepdaughter. She will be referred to as S from here out. While I'm at it, Great Uncle will also be R and S' daughter will be K. K is pretty cool, though, so you probably won't see her here as much as the other two, considering.

So, S is an interesting lady. She is about as old as my mother and acts like she's 22 still. Nothing against her wanting to be that way, but it made it very difficult to genuinely talk with her or see her at any point that wasn't on her time and when she was in town. Most of the summer, she barely came to visit despite everything. Every weekend, she went out partying or camping or out of town/state because she couldn't handle all the stuff with R. You can guess who that fell to, obviously. And the fact that S assumed I was gonna take care of him for her anyway, bleh. Yes, as he's family and I care about the people I care about, but assuming all that and I had to find this out later and from someone else? Not a great impression there.

Took a dinner break here, so where was I? I visited him in the hospital when I could, mostly. He was moved around so much and going through procedures and the like I barely caught him in passing. The day he was let out and moved to rehab, however, I was sure to go visit him ASAP. I made sure he was settled, met the nurses taking care of him and the schedules for medication.

He didn't have an amazing time there, according to him. However, this is because of two very important details: He didn't want to be there and wanted to be home already and that he needed to complete rehab to get home. You can probably imagine where this is going, yes. He refused to do his bare minimum of exercises and the like and then wondered why they were keeping him longer, even though they wanted to see him go and make a full recovery.

Another detail that's important is that one of the doctors in the hospital sent him to rehab with a defibrillator vest. This doctor apparently didn't explain it to him, any of his nurses at the hospital, none of them at the rehab center and most of all, me. So, this was a 6-pound burden for us all that reeeeally pissed him off especially. The damn thing would beep for any reason and while there was a book for each beep, every message shared the same beep! You wouldn't know the reason until you cross-checked the manual! And the damn battery pack kept nailing him in the shin, too. Augh.

Eventually, after a short time and a big tantrum from him that required S and I to be there for his patient review (in which S also had a breakdown because of this), he finally realized he couldn't get out until he kept the vest on and did the harder exercises to build up enough strength to be let go to go back home. And then he was, about the second to last week of August. And that's when I moved in to be his caretaker and help him with stuff around the house while he got used to it again.

The longest part came next, all his follow-ups with doctors he saw in the hospital to give him a clean bill of health to drop the defibrillator vest fully or drop it to get an internal one installed. All these follow-ups took end of August through to the end of September and his patience for everything was so worn thin. Every little thing agitated him and he never wanted to do anything extra outside of what he HAD to do. It was very frustrating for everyone involved trying to help him, myself included.

Finally, we came to October 2nd. The day he finds out about the vest and his medical stuff going forward. We go in and see the doctor. He's a very nice man and he's doing his best to do his job and let R know that, while he should be okay to take off the vest now, he needs to still be careful as he could plummet in health at any moment if he overdoes anything or even does super nothing (ya know, stagnant type nothing). Of course, R only heard that he could take the vest off and that's what he was waiting for. He was suddenly very energetic and headstrong that the doctor then quickly tried to let him know we'd still need to see him in a few months and make sure everything is okay. He even offered we come in later in the week for him to get a light defib shock to fix his heart rate from afib.

This, of course, is not what R wanted to hear. He was done, as far as he was concerned, and didn't want to do anything else. It started with a 'No.' and soon turned into a full screaming match, only from his side, to the doctor just trying to make sure he'd be alright going forward. Once the doctor realized there was nothing he could do to change R's mind, mostly from a motion from me that it wasn't worth the argument, he dismissed us as professionally as he could and everything. We left and I grabbed his card, just in case anything happens, ya know?

We're downstairs and he's so proud of himself for that outburst. He got what he wanted to hear and wasn't going to take anything else for anything he didn't want to hear or realize. We went to lunch and I just sort of clammed up for the rest of the day because it wasn't worth the effort. He didn't apologize after he calmed down or anything. He was just so proud of himself and it pretty much made me feel nauseated.

Since that was just a week or so ago from this, he started to get a big head. He was good to go and didn't need anymore doctors or meds and or anyone to help him. He started getting visibly and vocally frustrated with me, so I figured that was a good time for a short break from each other. Went back once or twice to get my stuff like clothes and food from living there for two-to-three months and then saw him off that last Saturday for October 7th. I was so anxious and everything, especially with hoping he'd be alright while I was gone.

I told S and K I'd be taking a week vacation and then go back to pre-cardiac episode (once a week every Wednesday or whatever day if he had appointments). Never heard back from S, but I thanked me for everything I had done all summer and said my kindness and love would be paid back in time. One of my great aunts, married to one of R's brothers, said the same thing. I believe them both when they said that too. I didn't need it, but I guess affirmation and validation that I did a good thing was worth it, after all it had taken out of me.

And then I went to Missouri to visit my girlfriend (@somechubbynerd ) for a week. I was so relaxed and so forced to not do anything I didn't have to that I sort of just existed in a time and limbo of bliss? I have high anxiety as it is and, not feeling it for the first time in years, I sort of didn't know what to do with myself?

My girlfriend helped loads with that, though, by guiding me through places she wanted to take me and spend time with me. We cuddled and watched YouTube together. We baked cookies and made a chicken fettuccine dinner together. We went to the zoo together and then to one of her favorite restaurants in the same day. She made me so at ease and helped me be myself for once that I sort of just was so mind-numbed into pure bliss and peace with myself.

It felt great, looking back, but I just genuinely didn't know what to do about it. I hadn't felt that in years and I am still feeling it as I write this now. It feels so nice and so calming. This is awesome, given that I actually went in to urgent care for a panic attack that was gonna put me out for a few days, back in June/July. It sucked so much, but I'm glad they helped me recover so quickly. I couldn't afford to be down for too long. I am so essential to everyone around me and to be there for them, even if I know that they all can't always be there for me.

My girlfriend, as well as a few others, made me realize I probably need to start saying no more. Not because it's to be a bastard, but I can't give myself away like this again and again and get so little in return or no time to recover from the last thing. Obviously, I should still do stuff on a basis I choose, but yeah. Maybe I should say no a little more. It also made me realize that, while not anyone's particular fault, my summer was stolen from me. This summer was planned between my girlfriend and I, as well as a few mutual friends, to work together on art, writing and projects we have been invested in for a year or more and have to keep putting off due to life and work stuff. This was gonna be the summer we were all available...and then we weren't.

I'm still processing these last three months and the year or more so far, since I finally had a break long enough to realize what's going on with myself and my life and someone to bounce my thoughts off of that I couldn't with family. It has opened my eyes a bit more about my circumstances and what the near future might hold for me. I miss my girlfriend so much already and I felt so bad I wasn't crying as much as she was when she had to drop me back off at the train station, but I guess I was still processing it too?

Yeah, still processing things. Probably for a bit, too. I'll probably need some time to ease back into things here. All my blogs and what I was doing before sort of disappearing for a long time and also being interrupted from a lot of threads I wanted to continue or even start. I hope you all can be patient and understanding with me and I'll do my best to do the same. I love y'all and nothing will ever change that, okay? I just need some time to figure myself out again. Yeah. Just need more time...

#the goober speaks #irl stuff #long post #auuuuugh

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green-ville · 2 years

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Just Shut Up Part 3

I loved reading your reactions to part 2. My thoughts on this trilogy originated as a duology with it ending on Avery dying. To me, that's still the real ending. However some people wanted a 3rd part and because I really do appreciate every comment I get, I made the 3rd part. So I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: character pain. Smut. 18+, minors DNI. Missionary, blindfolding, slight rank kink, small bit of oral (f receiving). And snark. Lots of it.

__________________

She knew it may have been cruel to wait to see the others, but she was going through image issues right now. Not just the physical ones, but the skill ones too.

When she woke up things were quiet. Things were dark. She thought it was going to be one of those instances where she was actually dead but her spirit was staying around for unfinished business, but then she realized she had an eye mask on. She pulled it off and was exposed to a world that was too bright on every account.

Sunglasses sat on her bedside table though and she used those to see.

She sat herself upright, breathing in, trying to think but finding that too difficult. She got up, hobbled into the bathroom, and her image issues arose.

They had shaved part of her head to put stitches in. She had a fat bruise around the area as well. Her skin was pale and her lips cracked. Combined with the ankle bandage she sported; she looked like shit.

That was only physical. Then came the mental. The skills.

The lack thereof.

A nurse came in to do her rounds. She saw Jones was out of bed but found her in the bathroom. She led Jones back like she needed the physical assistance and explained the situation.

Severe concussion. Broken and sprained ankle. Grounded for 10 weeks for recovery. She'd be reassessed and assuming everything was healed properly, she'd be given the go ahead to fly again.

What Avery Jones heard from that?

You got yourself hit. If you had been a little faster or thought up a smarter plan you never would've had to eject. You never would've hit your head. You wouldn't have screwed up your ankle.

Maverick chose the wrong person.

Your dad was the only reason you were picked.

Your dad was the only reason you even got into Top Gun in the first place.

Idiot.

The nurse said she had visitors that were very excited to see her. Avery turned them away, saying she didn't want to see anyone.

That excuse lasted one day after she woke up. That didn't sound like a lot, but the nurse stopped by several times saying she had visitors.

Avery was being discharged as soon as her paperwork was cleared up. Then she'd have no one to protect her from facing them.

She sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling just over the floor. Her head was hung, eyes shut. She was trying to think up a plan on how to evade the team until her hair regrew and until she became a better pilot but realistically, that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Who knew how long they had anyway? New orders were probably already made. They'd be split up soon. They'd probably never see each other again. All she'd have to do is wait for those new orders –

A knock on her door. The nurse with her pain killers.

Boots on the ground. Not the nurse.

"Can I ask why you're refusing visitors?"

Definitely not a nurse.

"Does it matter if you got through anyway?" She questioned back, voice weak, tired. As long as she kept looking away he couldn't see how bad she looked.

"I got in because I'm friends with the nurse," Captain Mitchell explained. "And she told me you weren't doing well."

"That's a violation of HIPAA."

"Jones, why won't you let your friends see you?"

"Do you want people to see you at your worst?" She questioned back again, a sharp cut to her tone.

"You in recovery is at your worst?" He kept his soft tone, unfazed by her anger.

She changed his wording, "Me needing recovery is me at my worst."

". . .Talk to me Jones. Tell me what's going through your head."

She let out a dark laugh, water in her eyes. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Can't think right now. I forget words I should know. I keep calling the nurse by the wrong name because I can't recall her name. Can't see her damn name tag either. I should've been better," she insisted. "Should've gotten out of the way after deploying flares and then none of this would've happened but I wasn't good enough. Maybe you should've flown the mission instead, everyone knows you're the best of the best. I doubt you'd have gotten your ass blown up. Or if you had, you would've ejected sooner and not hit your – " her lips quivered, the tears slipping down. Her face pinched and even that hurt her head. The word was a weak whisper. "Your head."

The sound of boots walking again reached her and she twisted her head away as he came in front of her. As he kneeled down in front of her. She didn't want anyone to see her right now. She wanted to be alone.

"Do you respect me as a pilot?" He asked her.

"Of course I do," bitter with a hint of anger, "you're the best in the Navy."

"Then why do you doubt my decision to pick you as team lead?"

"Did you pick me?" She asked, turning now, looking at him behind her sunglasses. "Did you, or did you do it because of who my dad is?"

His brows furrowed. "Who's your dad?"

She blinked at him. "You. . .You don't know?"

"Should I?"

"Why. . .I don't understand. You shouldn't have picked me. I nearly got Rooster killed – "

"You saved Bradley, Jones," Maverick said, eyes staring her down. Holding her in place. Speaking his truth and nothing but his truth. "He was out of flares. I was in the tower. I heard it all. I heard them after you," he let out a sad smile. "After you deployed flares and I watched your name blink out of existence. I spent close to an hour thinking you and him were dead and do you know how terrible I felt in that moment? I knew I had failed you both. I didn't teach you enough. I didn't do enough to ensure your success. And when that F-14 came on the radar, I knew without a shadow of a doubt the both of you were there."

"How?" She asked, the shake still in her voice.

"Because it's something I would've done, and I happen to think you're a lot like me." He paused, and reaffirmed, "I meant that as a compliment although a few of my higher ups might disagree with that."

She smiled at him, wiping the water from her cheeks. "I take it as a compliment. Thank you Mav, it means a lot."

"Does it mean enough for you to go visit your worried friends now?"

Her smile fell. "I don't want them to see me like this."

"What's wrong with a few bandages? I could tell you countless stories – I still have the pictures in my phone from Bradley being bandaged up after he broke something."

"It's not the bandages. They shaved my hair. I look terrible."

Maverick looked at her, unmoving, for a long second. He turned away, a smile puffing out.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"Kid, if you think they're going to judge that after seeing half your face covered in blood. . . Let's just say you look a lot better now than you did being pulled out of the F-14."

A ring cut through the room. Maverick frowned, looking down and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He saw the name on the screen and his forehead furrowed.

"I didn't even do anything, why is Admiral Cain calling me? . . ." He looked up at Avery. "What were you saying about your dad?"

"If you help me sneak out of here without being seen I'll answer that phone call and save your ass from getting chewed out."

"I'm starting to see the resemblance between you and him."

"Ha. Ha."

He handed her the phone anyway.

She successfully got out of the infirmary without being seen. It was noon as she was getting into her room. She covered her eyes with a sleeping mask and passed out. There was no natural light in her room but she liked the sleeping mask. It made everything darker.

She woke at 10:15, her muscles itching for activity. Realistically she knew she couldn't do a workout, but she was sure if she struggled enough she could at least go for a walk on a treadmill. She'd even use her crutch to help.

Avery got up and changed clothes. She put her hair into a loose braid. She brushed her teeth because she felt disgusting. She put on sunglasses and left her dark room, entering the fluorescent lit hallway.

She got ten feet before her name was whispered. Almost inaudible.

"Jones?"

She stilled.

Shit.

She definitely wasn't getting a walk in now.

She heard him coming but there was no attempt to escape. She'd be too slow. She didn't really want to try.

He came in front of her, wearing his beiges and looking like clean cut perfection. A stark contrast to her dress down civvies.

And he looked at her with those blue eyes behind those stupid glasses she loved so much and she forgot why she waited so long to see him.

"Hey Bobby. Funny meeting – oof."

He pulled her into a tight hug and she held back, eyes shutting, sore head resting against his shoulder.

He smelled nice. Fresh air. A hint of suntan lotion. Some type of standard scent of soap lingered beneath the suntan lotion and she had never liked the scent of clean more.

"You scared the shit out of me," he whispered into her neck.

"I apologize."

"Why didn't you let us visit you? We waited, one of us was always in the waiting room and the nurse just keep saying you didn't want to see anyone." He pulled back, holding her close but his body not against hers anymore. "Why Avery?"

Her heart fluttered at her name coming from his mouth. It jumbled her already scattered thoughts, what few there were. "I, well I don't know. I saw how I looked and I try to maintain a certain upkeep that I wasn't anywhere near. I didn't want anyone to see me like that."

"You didn't let us see you because you were self-conscious?"

"It sounds stupid when you say it –"

He pulled her in again, one hand on her lower back and the other behind her neck. His lips found hers and the growing familiarity had her stomach twisting in a pleasant way.

It was slow and filled with desperation. He put his thoughts and feelings into every movement of his. He conveyed his worry, his fear, his anxiety. Everything that had been tossing inside of him since the mission went south.

Her hand wove into his hair, holding him close. Taking his warmth, his strength. Everything he could give her.

His blue eyes were on her when he pulled back, baring down with that same desperation for her to understand.

"The scariest moment in my life was seeing your jet blow up, because I didn't see your chute. I thought you were dead, Avery Jones. And when Roosters' name dotted back on the radar, everyone told me you had to be with him, but I didn't believe it. I didn't see your chute. I watched. I never saw it.

"Then I heard your voice after Hangman shot that last aircraft down, and I was so relieved I didn't even hear how different you sounded. I was confused why he immediately called for a medical team. Didn't spare a second to brag about his second confirmed kill, just said he needed a med team. Then I saw you, your face covered in blood, and I just. . .After seeing that, trust me," the two words were a beg, a plea. "You could never look anything other than perfect to me. Doesn't matter what happens, if you're breathing, you're perfect. You change your hair, your style; it does not matter. You're alive."

"It's kinda starting to feel like you have a crush on me Bob."

He rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. "You still annoy me. I have an entire rant prepared about self-sacrifice and how you're not allowed to do it again."

"That seems like overkill."

"The rant is overkill? Darlin' you wait. I'm telling the others to hide your replacement jet so you don't get any stupid ideas. And I'm telling them to babyproof the base to keep you from getting any more injuries."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm yours," he corrected, and kissed her again, smiling against her lips.

She got the faintest hint of peanuts on his mouth and just knew he had gone to The Hard Deck without ordering a single glass of alcohol. Only him. It was endearing and her tongue swiped at his teeth and pressed against his own tongue just to taste more.

This time she pulled away first, although she kept him close. "You gonna take me to bed Lieutenant?"

He smirked. "You forget which room is yours?"

"Actually yes. They all look the same," he started laughing against her, "and there are no name cards on the outside of the doors." She twisted away to further point out how they literally all looked the same, but he took the opportunity to crouch down and pick her up.

She yelped, one arm holding around his neck, the other still holding onto her crutch. He walked her forward like she didn't weigh 140 pounds.

Her cheeks were red with a flush. "That's such a move. You're so basic."

"Want me to set you down?"

"No."

"Then shut up."

"You're so bossy and mean." She twisted the door handle without being told, pushing the door open so he could walk them through. He took two steps in before kicking it shut with the perfect amount of force to not be disruptive, but still close all the way.

He hummed. "You say that, but do you ever listen?"

He bent her down and set her gently on the bed. Her crutch was taken from her hands a second later and before he could part from her side, she caught his wrist. It was dark in the room, she hadn't turned on the lights, and she knew exactly what he was going for.

"Wait, before you turn the light on," she reached for her bedside table. She tapped her hand against the wooden surface until she found the softer material. She grabbed it, took off her sunglasses, and fit it over her eyes. "Okay."

"Okay?" He repeated, confused, and turned on the small light in her room. She could tell it was the small light because he had to pull a chain down instead of flipping a switch. "You're going to wear a blindfold?"

"No, but kinky. It's a sleep mask. I do still have a concussion."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this then. We can just sleep."

She pouted, having no idea what direction she should be pouting in because she had the mask on, and because her depth perception was terrible. "You can really just fall asleep beside me without wanting to touch me at all?"

"Of course I want to touch you – "

"Then do it." She played with the hem of her shirt, lips pressing together, pulling up to one side. "Or I'll do it and you can watch." She pulled her shirt up and overhead, tossing it to the side. She laid herself down, fitting her head comfortably on the pillow. "You wanna watch Bob?"

He was silent. She couldn't gauge his reaction right now, the eye mask stealing that sense from her, but she could guess.

She guessed he was staring at her right now, stuck in a conflict. Should he? Shouldn't he?

Her hand trailed down her body, fingers finding the waistband of her shorts. "I think you wanna watch," she answered her own question, fingers slipping beneath. Past her underwear. Finding her clit right away, sliding past, collecting that slick and bringing it back. Circling.

"It might take me a while," she warned. "You do it so much better, my standards to reach that edge are higher now, but I'll get there." She whispered the end like a promise. She would get there. "Just sit back and relax Bobby, enjoy the show," the last bit was to taunt.

"You infuriate me," he breathed out, body finding its way on top of hers.

She smiled and he kissed her, hips pressing into hers after her hands moved to grab at his back. She pulled him down closer, liking his weight on her, feeling comforted by it. Her bad foot was out of the way of damage, her head was cushioned by a pillow, and she had Bob on top of her; there was nothing more she could ask for right now.

Until she found something she could ask for. She asked for it by starting, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and beginning to undo them. It was a hard task, her bruised brain foggy from the concussion and the way his tongue dragged in her mouth. If his goal was to leave her discombobulated, he was succeeding.

All there was was him right now. When she breathed it was him. When her hands moved it was on him. She tasted him. Only him and she couldn't get enough.

Her good leg hooked around his waist, pressing him closer as he grinded down. One of his hands found the bare part of her thigh and held it firm. A simple action like that was enough to drive her wild.

His lips pulled from hers and she gasped for air. His lips trailed to her jaw. Her neck. Sucking deep hickeys there.

"Bob," the name a breathless plea and scold.

"Blame it on the accident," he told her, nose brushing into her neck, and then he was sucking again.

She couldn't argue with that logic.

His teeth brought her skin in and she pulled his shirt out of his belted waist. She finished unbuttoning and shoved his shirt off him. He didn't move his arms to help her get the fabric off, so she pushed it as far away as she could get it, and then her hands were everywhere. His shoulders, his sides, his back. She loved his back. Loved feeling the muscle he hid.

She loved dragging her nails down it and seeing that two days later there were still red marks there.

He found her collarbone and attacked that. She sighed, holding him tight, his skin scorching on hers.

His hand left her thigh and most of his body stopped pressing against her. She reached for him, hands finding his waist, and held him. Feeling his torso contract as he pulled the button down off and listening to the fabric as it flittered to the ground.

She could feel her pulse in her stomach from the anticipation. There was something about her eyesight being gone that turned up the intensity. Had his featherlight touch raising goosebumps.

She could feel him shift and then his mouth pressed against the underside of her chest. A gentle press that shifted to just under the middle of her bra. Up her sternum. His tongue found her skin and when he licked up her heart almost burst. He left a trail all the way to her neck and began the process of bruising the soft skin there too.

She pulled at his hair, keeping him close, light breaths leaving her parted lips.

Her calf resting low on his back brought his hips down again. She couldn't put any pressure on her other leg so this was the compromise to get a taste of friction.

"Patience," he mumbled against her, moving up her throat. Under her jaw.

"Always trying to teach me," she huffed.

"Yet you're never willing to listen," he smirked back, one hand on her waist, squeezing the curve.

"I think I listened pretty well last time," she defended, feeling him rise up, head so close to hers but without any contact. "Or did you not like how I rode you?"

He hummed, hand dipping under her back. Raising her enough to inch towards her bra clasp.

"Because if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it very much."

"You certainly know how to put on a show."

Her bra loosened and her back was lowered. The cold air never affected her chest because his warm chest held firm against it. She opened her mouth for a cheeky response but found herself distracted by his tongue. As far as distractions go, his tongue was a good one.

Her hand brushed against his body, his strong chest, his lean torso, until it found the waist of his pants. She ghosted the taut flesh, smiling again.

"Would you like a reminder?"

"You're injured," he reminded, breath fanning over her lips. "Your ass is staying on the bed."

"Allow me to persuade you – " she had just barely felt up his restrained length when her wrist was grabbed and pressed into the mattress beside her head. Her other wrist was grabbed and held in the same manner.

"You're injured," he repeated himself, holding her down and sending her into the sky. "Do I have to tie you down?"

"I think you'd like to," she answered. "Do you want to tie me down Bob? You want to have your way with me like you did in the locker room?"

His hips rubbed against hers, a slow and steady grinding.

"I had my way with you?" He repeated, light, pondering. "I recall you having a foot in the game too, Darlin'. Always pulling the strings and makin' it seem like you're not in control. I see through you though. You can't hide it from me." He kissed her jaw, dragged his nose across her cheek. "You want me to tie you up."

"Put your glasses back on sweety, you're seeing wrong."

"Am I? You don't want me to tie your wrists to that metal headboard? Don't want something to hold onto when I'm thrusting into you so hard that that blindfold won't matter cause you'll be seeing stars?" Enhanced by a deep roll of his hips that had her lower half begging for more.

"Glad to know that that imagination of yours is still good. What was it you said to me in the locker room? 'Your mouth's racking up bills you can't afford'."

"Don't worry about that Darlin', I've got military discount."

A beat.

The pillow against her head puffed up further as she pushed down, a deep belly laugh escaping her mouth in a loud, boisterous manner. Bob broke too, laughing at his own joke with his head fallen between her neck and head. Her sides cramped immediately with the type of laugh, water flashing into her eyes at the stupidity that just occurred.

"You're an idiot," her voice was higher, laugh still shaking her chest.

"That was perfect."

"That was so terrible! I can't believe you said that – mmph," he gave her a firm peck. Her hands found his neck, cupping the skin, and smiling.

"You loved it," he stated, unrelenting.

"Maybe a little."

He kissed down her neck again but the light kisses were gone. These were a determined trail down. Her bra finally slipped from her shoulders and she could hear it land a distance away. He kissed down her sternum, between the valley of her chest, reaching her stomach and blowing cool air across her skin. Her breath halted and his fingers hooked into her shorts. A wet kiss found her hipbone and she did her best to lift her hips up. He pulled her shorts down and sat back. Around her bandaged ankle, one hand lifted her calf with a certain level of delicate that stole her breath the rest of the way.

Then when he set her leg down, that delicate touch was there again.

"Are you comfortable?"

Her mouth opened but the words failed. She nodded her head and he fit himself between her legs. Her left leg stretched out, his hands guiding her right leg to rest over his shoulder and on his back.

He swiped through her, dragging the wet up and to her clit and the light headache that had been haunting her since she woke up slipped further away. Receding temporarily as her body moved into a state of utter ease and relaxation.

And it's nice. Really. Just nice.

She wanted more. She wanted the emotion from their first time. The desperation from the second time. She kinda wanted to piss him off just because it was fun to rile him.

"Maybe I should get on top if this is the pace you want to set," she whispered out, feeling his tongue hesitate as her words processed. "Bet I could still do a better job, concussion and broken ankle and all that considered."

"Is your default setting running your mouth?"

"I thought you liked my mouth?" An idea sparked, a visible reaction even from his viewpoint. "Except for when I'm loud, right? When I'm loud there's that risk of getting caught. . .is that what you need right now? You need that risk Bob? Want people to see what you're doing so you can keep getting that credit?"

His grip on her thighs tightened.

"Just like you did on the carrier, kissing me like that in front of everyone. I bet your ego was so bruised when I told Jake it was Rooster that marked me up. Was your ego bruised baby? Baby on board?"

He was silent and she couldn't see him and it irked her to no end. She wanted to see if it was working, if she was getting underneath his skin, but he didn't make a sound and she was the one that had put the damn sleeping mask on for her headache. Her skin crawled at the electricity she had concocted.

"Hands on the frame."

Just like him. The underlying threat subtle. The order almost mistaken for a request, but it was never with him. It was a full out order. The controlled, even tone that told her that even at her snarkiest, he was still collected.

So she slapped on a grin as wicked as the West and wrapped her hands around the metal frame.

"I tried to be nice to you," he vocalized, hands ghosting up her hips before detaching completely. Bed shifting as he leaned away, cold hitting her more closely. She withheld her shiver, wanting him back on her.

A zipper slid down. The bed shifted again, all his weight disappearing. Fabric ruffled. Pants were shoved to the floor.

"Then you kept opening that mouth of yours, and now I'm rethinking."

"Don't take too long, might fall asleep."

He completely ignored her. "I won't tie your hands up. I won't gag you." The thought excited her. Then she processed that he said 'won't', and that excitement dimmed. "You deserve both, but that would be too easy. So you're going to keep your own hands on the bar, or I stop." His weight was between her legs again. His hands on her thighs, shifting them for room. Raising one leg up around his back. "You're going to keep your mouth shut, or I stop. Do I make myself clear?"

Her brow rose.

He lined up and pushed inside her. The first time was to acclimate. That was all she was offered before his hips pulled back and snapped forward. Her calf tightened on his back, her biceps bulged as her grip sealed in around the metal bar, and her chest flushed with heat.

Her lips opened but she allowed no sound out.

Her eyes pinched shut behind the mask. She could feel his arms right beside her chest, caging her in as he continued to do his damnedest to bury her in the bed.

"I don't understand how someone can be so selfless," he gripped her thigh and hiked her up further. Her ass was half off the bed now, supported mostly by him. The shift in angle had her lips snapping together, a whimper building. "And then they open their mouth and it's just snarky comment after snarky comment. I would've killed to see you in basic, listening to all those orders. Bet you were the team menace, always making everyone do push-ups for your retorts? Is that what you were Jones?" A hand pressed against her lower abdomen and her thighs clenched, that whimper escaping.

Her grip shifted, needing a better hold. It let her angle her hips up more but pressure went onto her bad ankle as well. She winced and he must've seen the action, because his hand was under her knee a second later. Bringing it up. Bringing her bad leg onto his shoulder. Bringing her other leg onto his shoulder.

"Oh God."

It alleviated the pressure off her ankle. It also stretched her hips and thigh muscles to a point she didn't think possible. Why she didn't complain? He was hitting so deep inside of her that it was hard to speak.

"Shit," he cursed, slowing his thrusts, dragging out the pull, using all his force for the push into her. Her body shook with the hit, her pelvis would be bruised, but she quite frankly did not give a single, not one utter damn.

Slow drag out followed by a powerful thrust that pushed her body up. Her lips pinched shut, skin crawling with the desire to move, to help, but it felt too good where she was now. She didn't want to risk breaking it because the asshole would steal this from her if she did something wrong.

His lips pressed into hers and it was open mouthed and sloppy. A whimper escaped her at one hit in particular and he swallowed it, tongue swirling around hers.

Her hips twitched up and he pulled back, feeling her clenching around him. Knowing she was close.

"Shouldn't let you cum, all you've done is run your mouth. What've you done to earn it?" He asked, hips adding a little roll as he bottomed out. Almost grinding inside of her.

Those stars he was talking about before? She saw them.

And she had called it. She had absolutely called it. She hadn't even done anything wrong but the asshole was thinking about stealing this from her! She had kept silent and he wanted to punish her anyway?

Her default setting of snark was activated.

Then he finished. "Gonna give it to you anyway." Snap forward. "To say thanks," pull out, body jolting forward when his hips connect with hers. "For all your service."

He was such a dick. She hated him beyond compare.

His lips were beside her ear. "So thank you for your service, Lieutenant."

She moaned, not even caring about the volume.

"Of course you like that," he commented, breathless, and then his pace changed. She squeezed him tight and her hips rolled, abdomen twitching, with her release. Her mouth was open but no sound came out. Her lower back was arched off the bed, the weight he didn't support resting on her shoulders.

He took four slow, deep thrusts to finish himself off. It was all he could manage as his heart pounded; his breath heavy.

They stayed like that for a few moments, their highs lowering, and then he helped her legs off his shoulders. That care returned when he put her bad leg on the pillow she had it previously propped up on.

"Well that was nice," she commented, a smile in place.

He snorted. "You're such an ass."

"The appropriate way to handle the situation listed above. A) Deploy flares and get out of the way or B) Self-sacrifice?"

He looked at her expectantly.

She glared.

"It's not a hard question Lieutenant."

"Is the answer B?"

"You're 0/9 Lieutenant. You need a 90% to pass."

"If there was time to get out of the way, don't you think I would've done it?"

"I don't know! You like to fly slow! You're like the only woman ever, that doesn't speed."

"You're sexist."

"Have you ever seen Phoenix drive?"

"Is Phoenix representative of all women?"

"She does set the gold standard."

"I agree, but you're a dick."

"Let's go onto the next scenario," Bob replied, and began to erase the current question.

Yesterday when he said he had a rant prepared about her self-sacrifice, he meant it. What he didn't mention, was that there was an exam at the end of it to prove she was paying attention. She hadn't been paying attention, her focus was on how his butt looked in his flight suit.

The answer to that question? Really nice.

"Alright," Bob began when he was finishing up with the options for the question. "You're flying a mission. You have right engine failure –"

"JONES?!"

She jolted, heart sky rocketing. Her head whipped to the open hangar doors. She spotted Hangman.

"Oh, hey bestie!"

"DAMNIT JONES! WHERE THE HELL'VE YOU BEEN?"

"Getting my ass lectured off," she responded, coming to a stand and crutching her way over to him. He met her 90% of the way, able to go a lot faster than she could. He wrapped her in a hug, patting her back and smiling at her. "Seriously, please save me. He gave me a rant on self-sacrifice and he won't stop until I get a 90% on this stupid exam."

"There's only ever two choices," Bob explained, "And each time one of them has been self-sacrifice. I told her at the beginning, that was not the answer, and she keeps saying it anyway."

She smiled. That was all true.

Hangman rolled his eyes. "Well, you look a shit ton better than you did after they pulled you out of the jet. What happened anyway, Rooster bore you to death?"

"I think I ejected too late and hit my head somewhere. Don't actually remember, it's all a blur – "

"JONES! GUYS, JAKE FOUND HER!"

"Javy!" She called, smiling wider. "Bestie, how you been?"

"I thought I was your bestie?"

"I say it to make Javy feel better. Self-esteem issues," she whispered quickly, then reached up with her arms as Javy reached her. Everyone was stupidly tall here. Was it a requirement to be six foot plus?

"How you feeling Jones?"

"Like I'm being punished."

"Bob doing his lecture?"

"Bob giving her the exam after the lecture," Jake explained.

"Ah," Javy nodded, as if he knew about this. "She failing?"

"0/9," Bob answered.

"Idiot," Javy commented.

She scowled.

Rooster led the group in, and she could tell right away that the little chicken was, as the saying went, upset.

"Well shit," she whispered, and slipped behind Jake. Jake stepped out of the way. Avery took another step behind him.

Rooster stood in front of Jake.

"Hey man," he greeted. "What's up?"

"Move."

"Sorry Avery, I tried." Jake moved. She scowled again then slapped a smile on her face at Rooster. Again with the height. He covered her in his shadow, blocking out the sun.

"What's up dude?"

"After I told you what happened to my dad –"

"Literally what could I do?!" She took on defense quickly.

"Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?!"

"Do I look like a medical professional?" She exclaimed back. "Ask me the difference between a strain and a sprain and I cannot tell you the difference. How was I supposed to know it was that bad?"

"I thought you were dead!"

"Well I'm not, so can't the past be in the past?"

"No! If you had died, I would've blamed myself and I don't need that again!"

"That kinda seems like a you problem – " That was not the correct thing to say.

He puffed a large breath at her, hands on his hips in a disappointed dad maneuver. Huh. So that was what that was like.

"I hate you," he stated finally, brown eyes tired but light.

"I can live with that. . .not the right phrasing?"

"You're an idiot Jones."

"So I'm continuously told."

He finally hugged her, and it was nice, for a solid two seconds.

Footsteps sounded. Someone running into the hangar. Rooster pulled away and they all looked to the figure that had entered the premise.

Fanboy. He was flushed, wild looking.

"Admiral Cain is here!"

"Fuck."

"Everybody scat!" Rooster ordered, and she didn't know if that was planned or not, but they all scattered. Some ran out of the hangar through the main doors. Others ran to the back doors meant just for humans. No one looked to her and decided to help and within three moments, she was all alone and dumbstruck.

"You've gotta be shitting me. . ." A shadowed figure walked into the light entering the hangar, and the outline was just too unmistakable. She recognized him right away and stood at attention to the best of her ability.

His leather shoes clicked on the floor. The closer he got, the farther away she wished he was. Then he was in front of her and they stood at equal heights.

She stared forward, not meeting his gaze. He looked her up and down.

The silence was deafening.

What was he going to say? Was he going to ground her for the standard 10 weeks then another 10 as punishment? Was he going to dishonorably discharge her? Was he going to honorably discharge her? Was he going to tell her he called her mom and she was wielding a wooden spoon right now?

He nodded once. "As an Admiral, I say good job."

That was oddly nice. . .

"Thank you sir."

"As your father, don't you ever do anything like that again."

There it was.

"Of course dad."

"And call your mother."

Damnit.

#jake seresin #pete mitchell #top gun maverick #maverick #bob #natasha trace #tgm #bobfucks #bob floyd smut #bob floyd #bob floyd x oc #javy machado

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bellakendall · 2 years

Text

rules of ana because everyone must be reminded 🤍 & some thinspo + extra tips

1. Do not eat unless you are physically hungry. Learn the difference and stop yourself if eating for the wrong reasons.

2. Never eat just to finish a meal. ONLY EAT UNTIL YOU ARE SATISFIED!

3. If you binge, stop yourself as soon as possible. DON’T COMPOUND YOUR MISTAKE!

4. If you binge, punish yourself after.

5. Exercise 30-45 minutes at least 4 times a week.

6. If you gain weight from one day to the next, fast the whole day.

7. Substitute low cal or diet versions wherever possible to cut back on calories.

8. DRINK WATER, WATER, AND MORE WATER.

9. Get rid of all your temptations. Pack it up and take it to a local food bank. You don’t need it.

10. Eat slow. Appreciate every bite. Then when everyone is finished and you’re only halfway through your meal, you can leave with everyone else having eaten half the calories.

11. Drink water before and during meals. The more you drink, the less you eat.

12. Chew each bite of food 30 times before swallowing.

13. Cut you’re food into small pieces. It’ll make others think you’re eating more than you are.

14. Don’t eat anything white.

15. When you look at your food, think of what it becomes. Ice cream= saturated fat. Bread=carbs. Juice=sugar. You don’t want that crap in your body so DON’T EAT IT!

16. Decide before cooking how much you are going to eat. Cook only that amount so you can’t eat more.

17. Delay any eating. Tell yourself that you can eat after completing a task (ie. 30 minutes of exercise). Complete the task then reassess.

18. If a food has more than 3 grams of fat per serving and/or more than 3 types of sugar listed in the ingredients list, don’t eat it.

19. Do not eat before 7am or after 7pm. This guarantees you a 12 hour fast every day.

20. Stop all eating at least 3 hours before bed.

Get Strong. Stay Strong. Get Skinny. Stay Skinny.

remember hunger is always temporary

get your vitamins

there’s ALWAYS a low cal option

WALK WALK WALK

space out your exercise if you hate working out for long periods

study, watch tv, sleep, find excuses not to go to the kitchen

don’t deprive yourself because truly, yolo. have fun every now but when you’re done going out, remember the goal you have: being skinny, being pretty

watching videos of models- super triggering but not in a bad way

use fasting apps- fastic & life are my favs

get rid of social media. helped me get rid of my first 20lbs. i only followed ed related accounts on tumblr & twitter

go out but don’t go out to eat . having fun distracts us from food and gets us moving which means more calories burned

hopefully this helps. Love,

🤍Bella

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asharaks · 2 months

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🤍💜🍭

forrrrrrrr tiawyll anddd falynastarion anddddd shadowheartraz :3

🍭 What's something they can never agree on (big or small)?

falynastarion: there's a lot of little things; they have very different outlooks, and different day-to-day priorities. what i'm saying here is about three times a week they have a row about some petty bullshit (astarion took too long to get ready; falyn tracked mud through the house)

tiawyll: tia will never fully forgive themself for their role in the absolute plan; they have reservations about their 'atonement' and how redeemable they are, which do differ from wyll's feelings😔

shadowraz: i think there are differences in the ways they worship: this won't be a big deal until later in their story, but raz (being the direct child of bhaal rather than simply chosen for his particular devotion) takes a lot more liberties with his interpretations of what it means to be Chosen, something shadowheart takes very very seriously, and something that will increasingly cause friction between them

💜 How do they silently show love or affection towards the other?

falynstarion: she likes being near him, physically; not sex, just sleeping nearby, keeping him in sight, Being Around Him; he, at least later in the relationship, has to learn to be quite direct about what he needs/wants from her, which is kind of a struggle for him but I think a thing he does try to do :3

tiawyll: tia will always always check on wyll first after a fight, before anything else; they heal him, obviously, and gradually learn to be more physically affectionate than they're used to, and they start to branch out into trying new things with his encouragement, which they'd never do on their own. wyll is pretty openly affectionate, but I think he develops a really strong sense for when they're overwhelmed or distressed and gets very good at defusing/getting them out of situations without drawing attention to the fact that's what he's doing

shadowraz: i think there are a lot of Meaningful Looks - neither of them are super verbal people, and they both get good at expressing a lot through looks; raz is also a secret gift giver and will leave little things around for shadowheart to find and then pretend he didn't<3

🤍 What is their favorite or most admired quality in the other?

falynstarion: survival. both of them recognise the other's survival drive, and while it's not necessarily a positive trait for them both all the time, it's something they both value highly in themselves and each other, and drives them to a borderline codependent level of loyalty

tiawyll: for tia, it's wyll's sense of justice; he's willing to reassess and change his mind in context, but he knows what he believes and he does stick to it, even to his own detriment. for wyll, it's tia's resilience: they've survived some insane shit, sacrificed an incredible amount for their beliefs, and they've pulled through

shadowraz: for shadowheart, it's raz's intensity: he's pretty single-minded a lot of the time and as someone who's spent her whole life working to a single goal, she recognises and likes that. for raz, it's her devotion, the strength of her belief and her willingness to sacrifice for it.

#got long bc i can't shut up #my babies. this was so hard my brain does Not work #razakh #tiavyn #falyn #ikarons #MWAH

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dreaminghour · 10 months

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Hayden/Ewan RPF - Secret language

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars RPF Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 24 Secret language Ship: Hayden/Ewan Disclaimer: References to real people are used fictitiously. Do not share this with them! Context: Present day. Ewan is visiting Hayden on his farm. Immediately follows this ficlet (Learning something new, 1.5k), which honestly you should read to get the full ship feels for this one. Normally I'm chill about this but this is the LAST PART of the series. You can find all the rest of this series here on my blog. Words: 656

When Hayden gets up the next morning, the guest bathroom is already occupied. After a late night talking, not just about Hayden's book but Ewan's various projects, Ewan said he needed to get some sleep if he wanted to be on the road early.

Hayden doesn't want to say he's used to their rhythm, it's been barely two weeks, but he feels off balance with Ewan up already. Still he goes about his routine and when he makes it downstairs, Ewan is already there, frying eggs the way Hayden likes them, coffee freshly brewed.

"Morning," he says, smiling that same old smile which still manages to make Hayden blush in response, it warms him like sunshine.

"Hey," Hayden replies, voice rough from sleep. "All set?"

It's barely gray outside. Normally Hayden would let the sheep out first, then wait for Ewan to come downstairs before making breakfast and then head out to see what needed to be done while Ewan lingered over coffee and the news.

"Just one last thing," Ewan says in that tone of voice that hides trouble.

Hayden's stomach lurches because he knows better but he can't help himself. The last two weeks — last several months really — have made him reassess what he thought Ewan wanted. And what he thought Ewan could give.

"What's that?" Hayden asks while paused in the middle of his kitchen, not knowing where to stand.

"Cooking you breakfast!" Ewan says cheerily as he switches off the stove and plates their food.

Breakfast is quiet as it usually is, except for some final comments about traffic and weather. But there's also something reluctant which Hayden can't name, but it's possible he's just projecting. He feels different and he's feeling as though a chance is slipping through his fingers.

All too soon, Ewan heads up stairs for a final pass, the first pit stop before the first leg of his long journey home.

He comes down looking much like he did when he arrived, but his beard is trimmed and he smells better. He looks better too: well rested.

"So this is it," Hayden says at the door, hand gripping the side as though it needs to be held open.

"Don't make it sound so final," Ewan teases. "You'll see me again soon."

"How do you know?" retorts Hayden.

"Cause you'll come visit," Ewan says with absolute certainty.

"Alright," Hayden acquiesces, as though he has a choice.

"I'll see you then," Ewan says, gripping Hayden by the arm and leaning in, leaning closer until he's pressing his mouth to Hayden's. It's a brief kiss, almost perfunctory but for the way Ewan lingers for a hairsbreadth, almost long enough for Hayden to do more than purse his lips in reply. It lasts long enough for Ewan's lips to soften and for Hayden to remember with burning fire that he'd once wished he could feel this again just so he could put old questions to bed. And afterward, Ewan doesn't pull away as quickly as he should, he stays close and their eyes meet and it's almost a question, almost an invitation or request, but this is the wrong time for that and they both know.

So instead of something else happening, Ewan smiles, a bit lop-sided, walks down the stairs, climbs onto his bike and before Hayden forgets he says: "Drive safe!" And then the engine is roaring to life and Ewan waves, puts on his helmet and drives off.

It was only a goodbye kiss, no more than Hayden's gotten before, but he still feels the imprint of Ewan's hand on his arm. It was only— but for the way he looked at Hayden after as though he didn't want to leave. Hayden wants to curse at the shadow Ewan's left behind. He said Hayden would visit and then all but assured he did.

Hayden watches the last glimpse of Ewan disappear down the road before he closes the door.

~~~

And thats all for now! I want to write a sequel to this but I'm probably gonna post that straight to my AO3 (where this one will get prettied up and posted as well). If you did enjoy this, it would mean the world from me to hear from you.

#domaystic2023 #2023day24 #dreamy does fic #dreamy does domaystic #star wars rpf #hayden x ewan #ewan x hayden #haywan

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dontcallmecarrie · 1 year

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For anyone wondering what’s going on with BDEL, Darth Calamity and...basically 99% of my AUs: every time I write, stuff going on in my life keeps coming out. Which normally isn’t bad, but we’re talking soap opera levels here. Like, ‘any more and I might as well write a biography’, and that’s Not Fun on a number of levels.

So, status update/ my internal narration on what keeps running through my head on the AUs you guys may or may not be wanting to hear about. Heads up for some minor spoilers, but way less than the outlines linked on my pinned post.

By Dawn’s Early Light:

...I have all of one (1) scene I’m eager to see, and that’s Howard Stark getting punched by Bucky in front of Steve Rogers. And maybe reassess how realistic this AU is, but tbh that feels more like something to tackle in the Coding Nightmare Fic I Have Yet To Finish because like hell I’m rewriting this fic.

By Myself But Not Alone:

look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair! Sing, oh muse, of the hubris of the fool who thought they could make their overly-complicated vision into a reality while only knowing the bare-bones basics of HTML.

...okay, but really, my main problem is that I’ve got several dozen pages of handwritten notes and outlines of potential Bad Endings to spice things up, but. Completely and utterly blocked on actually writing it out. Kinda debating on just posting what I’ve got and calling it a day because my brain refuses to expand on anything right now.

Live Through The Rain AU:

First off, I really want to brush up on Welcome to Night Vale to make sure I’ve got the tone right. Secondly, this one’s slated for Howard Stark redemption/character development boot camp via ‘yeah your world was just completely upended by one of the people you trusted most, no, that was just the first of many curveballs coming your way’, which I write when I’m trying to tackle a sympathetic and nuanced perspective of a very, very complicated man with a lot of issues.

...which means I have to be in the frame of mind to be sympathetic. Which, right now, I am not.

Incidentally, if you’ve noticed a sharp uptick in the levels of family drama in NHDD, this is why. Justin’s father is what happens when I am not inclined towards trying to be sympathetic towards parents who don’t have their shit together and insist on dragging everyone else down with them, Howard Stark is what happens when I’m not venting my issues onto fictional characters. [...apologies, btw, for anyone reading this. I try to keep personal stuff personal, but. This stuff keeps leaking into everything I touch, no matter how hard I try.]

Blurred Lines:

...this was my first fanfic, really. I’m kinda torn on how to approach it, really, because I started it out as an exhausted aspiring pre-med student who was not in a great place.

It’s been years since then; I am not where I’d once expected to be. It’s been over a decade since I’ve been up to date on what’s going on in Doctor Who, and noped out of Sherlock after the hot mess that happened after Season 2. On top of that, my writing’s all over the place because my teenage self had a long way to go when it came to storytelling, and part of me wants to go back and edit but the rest of me can’t help but think, ‘no, this fic has literally grown with you,’ even if it sounds cheesy as all get out.

All I know is, I want to finish this fic. I have a bullet point outline, next to no knowledge of Doctor Who lore and probably need to do a lot of research to do it, but it is going to happen. Eventually.

Ere The World Falls/The Lullaby of Obliteration:

Writer’s block hit me like a battering ram because ETWF was supposed to be finished in a week.

Look, this is what happens when all you have is a single scene you desperately want in the next chapter, but absolutely nothing else. Specifically, this snippet:

“Oh, I like you,” Hela laughed, something as cold and sharp as the rest of her and Tony didn’t know if he was imagining the goosebumps he felt right now.

Also, ETWF’s meant to be chaos incarnate and found family and end with hope for a better future for everyone, but... I kinda wrote myself into a corner on some things, and found a great way to tie Norse mythology and Marvel comics lore that would require either a lot of heavy editing, or a grimdark remix that I don’t actually have the energy to tackle, because I really kinda need happy endings right now.

Darth Calamity/The Man Who Sold The World:

you know what? I’ve been up to my ears in rl family drama, I am not up to writing fictional angst right now. The remix with more identity shenanigans? Maybe, but first I have to wade through Skywalker family drama to get there. Hmm. Where’s inspiration when you need it?

No Hero [Downward Descending]:

yes, I know Justin Hammer doesn’t come across as being good at this supervillain thing. No, I don’t know how we got here either, this was supposed to be my stab at writing a SI-OC [emphasis on the OC] that got a tad bit out of hand. Especially when it came to the family drama, because I originally had zero intention of expanding on it beyond ‘Justin’s life went on Hard Mode from an early age, and it’s part of why they are Like That now’, but turns out Hammer Senior is a great heat sink for some things. Apologies for that, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ turns out I really needed to vent.

...in retrospect, I missed a golden opportunity for said OC to make a comment about vaguely expecting to see everyone running around in spandex, and that is one of the few regrets I have. Just as a metacommentary on how desaturated the movies got later on, compared to what little I know of the comics.

Beyond that, though, I’m having a lot of fun with a protagonist who accidentally weaponized the power of friendship.

The War is Far From Over Now AU:

Main fic’s finished, still too burned out to consider tackling the sidefic.

The plan currently is to take all the ‘Stuff I Couldn’t Quite Fit In’ posts I made- aka all the plot points that ended up getting cut for my sanity, because my heart had been set on finishing TWiFFON before graduating undergrad and even that ended up going sideways- and playing by ear from there.

Specific plot points I’d once been eager to tackle had included stuff like ‘The Curious Case of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes’ [aka SI Legal’s freakout over the files they end up having to sort through in the aftermath of the Civil War arc], and ‘Vision’s Adventures In Trying To Become a Psychiatrist’ because multiple commenters basically went ‘wow JARVIS really needs therapy, and no one on Earth really is equipped to help Skynet here’ and I remember thinking, “lol yeah, that’s kinda the point, but also that’s a great idea!!!” and had been planning to write something to that effect. Only, things hit the fan in my life not long after, and then burnout on top of that, and next thing I know it’s been years since I last touched this AU but still feel no inclination to do so.

#Naught rambles #thinking aloud #by myself but not alone #By Dawn's Early Light #Live Through The Rain #blurred lines #Ere the world falls #The Rise of Darth Calamity #The Man Who Sold The World #No Hero [Downward Descending]#3 am musings #writer's commentary

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digikate813 · 7 months

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I know The Nice and Accurate Prophecies Week ended a few days ago, but I hope it's still alright to throw in my two cents on the final prompt for that week:

“It’s starts, as it will end, with a garden.”

This is all about speculating on how the show will end in it's (hopefully please God please) upcoming third and final season. I've seen a lot of answers to this question pretty much since the second I finished Season 2. Aziraphale and Crowley becoming human, retiring to that famous South Downs cottage, running away among the stars together, or just going back to the way things were and have been for the last 6,000 years. But here's the idea I've been thinking of for a while, that I want to put out there.

What if, Aziraphale and Crowley become guardians to Earth?

As great as Aziraphale and Crowley are together, I think it often gets overlooked, by them and the audience, how much of that relationship is owed to the time they've spent on Earth. The only reason they concoct that plan to stop the Apocalypse at the beginning of the series is because they love their lives on Earth so much, that they don't want to see it destroyed.

I've seen a lot of people (predictably) judge and call out Aziraphale for the decisions he made in the Season 2 finale, but Crowley has his own moments of... just not getting it. There have been plenty of instances of Crowley insisting they "run away together" because "it's a big universe out there". But if they did that... it wouldn't be the same. The reason Aziraphale and Crowley are so close, is because they got to know each other through the experiences they had on Earth all these years. An the reason I think that's going to be significant going forward is because as it turns out, Aziraphale and Crowley are not the only ones that's happened to.

Season 2 portrayed another pair between an angel and a demon, Gabriel and Beelzebub, who formed an attachment to each other through their frequent meetings on Earth. They spent time in intimate settings, far away from their respective sides, soaked in the culture and atmosphere that a simple pub has to offer, and just got to know each other. From there, they starting changing their viewpoints and reassessing their stances on things like ending the world to prove a point. Because now, to them, it would mean losing something really special that brought them closer together. That sounds familiar doesn't it?!

Then there's Muriel. Who becomes enamored with life on Earth almost immediately. They're so enthusiastic about just being down there and gets wrapped up in books and reading so much, that they're left in charge of the bookshop. And if Beauty and the Beast taught us anything, it's that once people start reading, soon they start "getting ideas and thinking".

There's a sort of wonder to life on Earth that transforms these beings who are often so divided and closed off in this echo chamber of ideals that must never be questioned. And I could see the few beings that have stepped outside of that chamber being the ones to poke holes in those proverbial bubbles during the events of season 3. Remember we still need to get to what Crowley was talking about at the end of the first season. "All of us against all of them"

The joys and innovations of life on Earth. how it constantly changes and evolves and faces set backs and tragedies but manages to just keep on going, is something that changes something in these beings the more they experience it. When all is said and done, I could see Aziraphale and Crowley leading, a movement. A third side that looks after life on Earth. Whether through intervention or temptation, but never for the side either of those represent. Just to, keep things interesting let's say.

Obviously Heaven and Hell will continue to exist and dictate what happens to humans after their time on Earth. They've been there since the beginning, they always will be there. But as far as that time being alive is concerned. For that lovely, precious time spent on this planet full of possibilities. Maybe that should be watched over by the few who walk among them from generation to generation, who understand what's so special about that life. It's not just a pawn in a game played by highly competitive beings, it's something else entirely. Something that deserves to be protected. Perhaps best protected, by the two who have been there since the beginning, and understand it better than anyone above or below ever will.

It would encourage breaking out of those molds angels and demons are smushed into. Giving those who feel or think differently, another option. Somewhere to encourage their curiosities and stretch their moral muscles.

I feel like in order for the arc of this series to be completely satisfying, there needs to be some shift in the status quo. If Aziraphale and Crowley go back to how they were before, then what was the point of putting them through all of this?

Much like the people they've been living amongst for thousands of years, they need to change. They've already challenged the idea of what it means to be angelic or demonic. They've already developed a friendship that has evolved into truly loving each other more than anyone else (it's tough to say relationship right now because they lowkey broke up, but I'm sure they'll fix that). They need to understand what's really important, and what's really worth fighting for. To me at least, that doesn't just mean truly being there for each other (although that is part of it), but for everything around them, that allowed them to grow so close, and see this system as something that should change. That is a change, that they need to make happen. Because they're the only ones that can. Together.

Now granted I don't know how the events of Season 3 would leadup to something like this (there's a reason why Neil Gaiman gets a bunch of money and awards and I'm some rando on the Internet commenting on it in the middle of the night), and I wont' be upset if the show chooses to go a different direction then what I've just described here (except making them human, I don't really like that), but given everything that's happened so far, how far Aziraphale and Crowley have come and how far they still have to go, I think, making them.... "godfathers to humanity" of sorts, could be a strong way for them to affirm their love for Earth, to remove themselves form Heaven and Hell entirely and just be themselves, and show once and for all what it means for them to.

Be Their Own Side

#good omens #analysis #gomensnaap #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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redgoldblue · 1 year

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tell me about the suits fic

You've Got An Artistry (The Way That You Are With Me)

ooooh. okay so this is the longest thing i've ever potentially abandoned (13.6k) which is why i'm not actually willing to say it's abandoned, especially given it's more than two-thirds done. the problem is that I started writing it so long ago that the writing at the beginning is just. not up to my current standard meaning that I would either have to do a serious amount of editing or accept that I'm posting my pre-2020 writing in, well, 2023 and i Do Not Like either of those things. i DO still like at least some of the fic though. you see my quandary.

It's canon-divergent around the end of s8, Harvey's mother dies half a season earlier than she does in canon and Mike flies back to help him through it and goes to Boston with him and also reveals that he and Rachel are in the middle of divorcing. and this is a long snippet hence readmore but it's my favourite bit of writing from it, from the end of the first chapter, and. well, in case it never actually gets posted-

send me a wip name and i’ll tell you things about it/present a snippet! show and tell!

There is a chill in Penn Station, evening ice creeping underground and weaving dances through the air. The hanging notice board proclaims that there is seven minutes until their train arrives, and that it will continue its inexorable countdown. Mike is standing just a little closer than anyone watching might expect, just enough that they might blink and look again and reassess their opinion of who these men might be, and Harvey can almost use the cold for plausible deniability.

The board says six minutes, and Mike shifts next to him, pushing his hands deeper into his coat.

“When I arrived,” he says, out of the blue. “You said ‘five-hour flight’, straight away. How did you know that?”

“You’re not the only one that can remember things, Spencer,” Harvey retorts, quick as you like, and Mike snorts. He doesn’t need to know that Harvey’s been looking at New York-Seattle flights every week for a year.

The board says five minutes, and a woman sitting on one of the hard benches, wearing a grey wool coat that Harvey knows costs well over $1000, sighs and shrugs it off, revealing a sweatshirt and track pants. Harvey tries not to read too much into the dropping of disguises, tries not to apply a stranger’s vignette to his own life, and fails.

The board says four minutes, and Mike nudges Harvey in the side. “Hey, do you have any change on you?”

Harvey frowns at him. “Why?”

“I want chips. And gummy worms.”

“And you expect me to finance your junk food addiction.”

Mike shrugs. “You can share them?”

“Fine.” He passes the coins to Mike, the brush of their fingers lingering for long seconds after Mike has already walked off towards the vending machine.

The board says three minutes, and a man looks at his phone, shakes his head, and leaves the platform. Half of Harvey wants to follow him, to grab Mike and run back to the apartment and lock the door and turn off the phones. There’s no bad news if there’s no-one to deliver it.

The board says two minutes, and Mike wanders back, dropping two silver coins into his hand and brandishing his bags of vacuous calories. Harvey flips one of the coins into the air, almost without realising, and Mike calls, “Heads!” as it spins in the air, light dancing off it.

“What are we flipping for?” Harvey asks, catching it on the back of his hand and immediately covering it with the other.

“I don’t know. Life? Love? If I win you spend the rest of your life in indentured servitude to me?”

Harvey shakes his head, and smiles, and lifts his hand off. “You win,” he tells Mike, as if it weren’t a foregone conclusion.

The board says one minute, and train lights appear, early, at the end of the tunnel. Harvey doesn’t know if he’d have rather it had been early or late, but it’s not as if he ever had any control over the situation. As they step onto the train, the board seamlessly moves onto the next countdown, for the next set of lives.

#Suits #Marvey #my writing #faorism #mine

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whentherewerebicycles · 1 year

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IUI went well—the vibes are good today and I feel less stressed than I did last time about making this specific try work. I committed to doing up to six cycles before reassessing and this is only try #2, so like, I have time. I also think that getting this second interview, even if it doesn’t lead to a new job, has taken a lot of pressure off the Having A Baby Project. I was thinking about the January cycle earlier today and just idk about how much job despair I was feeling and how much it felt like I NEEDED the distraction & purpose that a baby would provide to justify being this miserable for money. which is probably not the best headspace for embarking on this particular adventure lol. but now I’m like oh man okay—I’ve made it this far in the process so I can probably get a job I like even if it’s not this job. and that makes me feel so much relief! like maybe I can have a job that I love waking up for every morning again!! maybe that part of my life isn’t just over now!!! I feel like I’ve come alive the last couple weeks just through prepping for the first interview and reflecting on stuff I did at my old job and thinking about how excited I am to work with students again. and so even if I have to wait through more cycles to have a baby (or eventually choose a different route to parenthood) that’s okay because I will have other things in my life that bring me a deep sense of purpose and fulfillment. and THAT seems like a much better headspace to be in for all of this.

#IUI tag #personal

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