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thegingerjameson · 2 years

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Fate Adjacent - Chapter 1

Okay, let's get after it.

Warnings: MOM spoilers, repurposed and out of context. That's about it.

Doctor Strange x Fem!Reader, multi-chapter fic. A/U.

(Am I doing this right? 😎)

Links:

Prologue * Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - (Y/N)

Two Years Earlier

“I don’t know about you, (y/n), but I am in desperate need of a margarita,” Wanda huffed as she climbed into the backseat of the Uber I’d commissioned for us.

“Then it’s a damn good thing it’s girl’s night.” I grinned at her. “Usual spot?”

“Usual spot,” she agreed shutting the door behind her.

“The Up & Up in Greenwich Village,” I instructed the driver. “On the corner of Sullivan and Bleecker Street."

“On it,” she nodded, shifting out of park and carefully merging into the clusterfuck of rush hour traffic.

Wanda Maximoff, my best friend since med school, and I were headed out to drink off the events of the previous work week. We’d met in Biochemistry, bonding over metabolic pathways and overnight study sessions, and then by some twist of luck had moved on to the same residency program at Greenwich Community Hospital. Ten years later, Wanda was the leading obstetrics expert in the tri-state area, while I continued to hone my craft in general neurosurgery. Since we were both single, and since the majority of the rest of our respective friends were married with kids, we spent most of what little time we had outside the hospital together. I loved having a partner in crime to explore the endless secrets of the city with, and though we both continued to try our hand at the dating scene, nothing had stuck quite yet for either of us. Our experience with dating continued to be abysmal at best, all apps, swipes, one night stands, and ghosting, but at least it gave us great stories to drink over.

I knew that dating was always going to be even more difficult than usual for me, anyway, for two reasons. First, relationships require honesty, and there were things about me that I’d never be able to share with anyone but Wanda; even then, the only reason she knew was due to a combination of the tough loss of a patient I’d spent years treating and one too many shots of tequila. A rare loss of control, and only the second time it had happened, but I’d worked every second of every day to keep from happening since. Still, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a relief to have someone know the true me, and love me anyway.

And second, I’d already met, and lost, the love of my life. So really, I wasn’t sure of the point of it all, but I kept trying anyway. I just wasn’t holding out any hope that lightning would strike twice.

I pulled a small mirror and some lip gloss out of my purse, and Wanda scoffed.

“As if you could improve upon perfection,” she grinned.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Beauty is certainly in the eye of the beholder.”

(y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes, fair skin; pretty enough, sure, but beautiful? That wasn’t what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I saw the worry lines across my forehead, the result of long nights pouring over patient charts and medical texts trying to find the solutions that would keep them alive; the pale skin that rarely saw more than the fluorescent lighting at the hospital; the ten pounds I’d gained recently thanks all those bags of Doritos from the cafeteria vending machine in the middle over long overnight shifts. I saw the smile lines and frown lines and crow’s feet, but they were proof that I’d lived, and I’d take that over Botox and lip injections any day. So many women hated getting older, but I loved it; at 35 years, I was more comfortable in my own skin than I’d ever imagined I could be.

Wanda, on the other hand, exuded beauty effortlessly; blonde hair, hazel eyes, porcelain complexion, and a body that reflected the five Pilates classes that she somehow found time for each week.

As we pulled up to the bar, the driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Hey. I know this is super unorthodox, but I really have to pee, and you guys don’t seem like the type of people who dabble in car theft. Would you mind watching my car for a sec so I can run in and use the restroom?”

“Girl, I have the bladder of a pregnant woman. I totally get it. Plus, my bone structure is far too pretty for prison.” Wanda laughed.

I tucked the lip gloss and mirror back into my purse. “I’ll get into the front seat so it doesn’t look like we’re parked.”

“You guys are life savers,” the driver replied. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the bar and I settled into the driver’s seat, ready to fill Wanda in on my most recent surgical victory when, suddenly and violently, the passenger side front door was ripped open.

I jumped in surprise as a man threw himself into the seat, slamming the door behind him; then his piercing blue eyes met mine, and all of the air in the car seemed to disappear. My mind and body immediately began to wage war against each other; every muscle memory screamed at me to reach out to him, and I balled my hands into tight fists in my lap, a futile effort to brace myself against the onslaught of conflicting emotions. It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him, I reminded myself over and over. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“Hi. Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m going to need you to follow that… thing,” he ordered breathlessly.

“Follow what?” I asked dumbly, momentarily unable to process intelligent thought. He frowned at me and pointed out the windshield.

“That.”

I heard the screams from the people on the street around us before I finally saw it; a large, green, one-eyed, definitely-not-from-earth, tentacle-clad creature barreling through Greenwich Village.

“Go. GO!” he yelled, his hand gripping the dashboard.

I responded on instinct, shifting into drive and slamming my foot down onto the gas pedal, swerving around the cab in front of me and narrowly missing a group of fleeing pedestrians. Ignoring every self-preservation instinct, I barreled through the red light towards the monster wreaking havoc in the streets.

“Can’t you open a portal or something?” I yelled. “This isn’t even my car!”

“It took my slingy,” he replied, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and focused on the chaos ahead of us. I barked out a laugh and kept going.

“I like your cape,” Wanda offered, forever cool in crisis, and his gaze flickered to her in the rearview mirror.

“It’s a cloak,” he sighed exasperatedly. “On your right!”

I spun the wheel to the left, narrowly missing the taco cart the creature had thrown at us, and before I could even process what was happening, the passenger side window was open and he was climbing out of it.

“Get as close to it as you can,” he commanded, and I pressed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. The car jolted forward again, causing him to lose his grip and fall backwards into the seat.

“I suppose I should add the disclaimer that I’d like to get out of this alive,” he added, with a snark was apparently on-brand. I rolled my eyes on instinct and could have sworn I caught a half-smile from him in response, but I was too busy dodging traffic to be sure.

Luckily, the creature was approaching the bridge, and the climb up the cables had slowed its progress. I swerved around another car and just as I began to approach it, Strange launched himself out the window. I slammed on the brakes and watched in horror, sure he was going to fall to his death, when out of nowhere a golden shower of sparks appeared and shifted into a shield, catching him and cradling him to the ground. He landed safely on both feet and took off running.

“How the hell…” I muttered under my breath, and as if in answer to my question, a sorcerer who looked suspiciously like Wong ran past the car, spells flying out of his hands.

“(Y/N), you should help them,” Wanda urged as we watched the two men battle. It appeared that Strange had somehow retrieved his sling ring, and it looked like they had things under control.

“You know I can’t,” I shook my head.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” she pressed. Wanda saw the good in everyone and everything, including my deepest, darkest secret.

I shrugged and looked down at my fingers. It would be so simple, and yet…

“It’s too dangerous,” I said quietly.

“For who?”

“For everyone. I can’t risk it. You can’t…”

“...can’t mess with the order of the universe,” she interrupted, smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “I know. I just hate to see you wasting your potential.”

“Neurosurgery is hardly a waste of potential.”

“Fine, fine,” she conceded, then paused to watch as Strange summoned a lamppost from the sidewalk with a flick of his hand, ordering it into the creature’s eye and effectively ending its rampage. It made an ungodly shrieking noise, tentacles going slack, and fell into the river.

“Are you okay?”

I’d known the question was coming, and I half-shrugged in response as the memories I tried so hard to tuck away came bursting to the surface; his scarred yet elegant fingers tracing lines of text as side by side we’d poured over volumes of ancient tomes; the shadowed contours of his face in flickers of candlelight, his brow furrowed as he puzzled out answers to the mysteries of the universe; the way it had felt when he held me, his arms a solid anchor, the only thing holding me in place while the rest of my world was slowly slipping way.

“No,” I finally replied.

Wanda knew me well enough not to press any further.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked.

I surveyed the chaos around us; people screaming, cars and buildings destroyed. Smoke rose from the carnage, and I knew that what needed to be done next was the same thing that needed to be done any time an Avenger saved Earth from another threat.

“Triage.”

Wanda sighed. “I guess the Uber driver was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently we are the type of people who dabble in car theft.”

I started laughing, and once I started, I couldn’t stop, which led Wanda to join in, and soon we were both doubled over, hysterical, riding the delayed high of an adrenaline rush.

“Jesus Christ, we are so inappropriate,” I wheezed, then took a deep breath and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Come on. We have work to do. And a car to return.”

*************************************************

Taglist: @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 ❤️

#benedict cumberbatch #doctor stephen strange #multiverse of madness #stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #dr strange x reader #dr strange x fem!reader #dsitmom #mcu fandom

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hournites · 3 years

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Charles mcnider was a literal doctor. Even in the comics the third midnite (Pietre cross) was more of support then active field member. He saved their lives so many times because of his medical knowledge and abilities. (There was even that great story in which the villain was holding people hostage unless midnite could rumor a tumor from his grandfather.) The problem with Beths character is that the need to make her the same age as the others robbed us of seeing a black, female doctor fighting crime. Honestly she should have been older (she could have been a prodigy or something. Maybe even 25 because there are 7 year college and med school programs. The she could have been a first year resident when the show started). But the Beth we got doesn’t actually do anything on her own. It’s the goggles. At the very least, Courtney, Rick, and Yolanda all bring something more to the tools they have. I just hope that we get an explanation on how beth got the goggles back online that explains her sudden ability with that kind of tech and then we can explore like an oracle side to her.

I understand what you're saying and where you are coming from, I do. But I don't think it's fair or accurate to say Beth has not actually done anything on her own. On her own, the JSA exists.

From her debut Dr. Mid-Nite episode in 1x05, it establishes narratively that Beth is useful to the team at that point in the same way it was established Artemis was not. Beth is a communicator, a mediator, and without her, there would have been no Rick on team JSA. With Beth, there is no more source of income from the ISA. All of the decisions she's made are her own. The goggles never told her what to do, merely gave contexts and provided assistance when prompted. The goggles never told her she should make the move to donate all of the Gambler's money to charities. They never told her she needed to investigate Cindy Burman's house. Honestly, I don't even think the other kids could handle the multitasking ability required to handle the goggles with Chuck. It's a sensory overload if not managed properly, and she's still keeping up with the rest. It takes intelligence, determination and bravery to put herself in such a position in light of her limitations.

A high school student who has rarely ever paid attention in class cracking a master chemist's equations in the span of two months is no more believable than a lonely girl with an above perfect GPA to teach herself coding/soft engineering over 6 months.

Also, while I am pretty sure Beth is likely to go into medicine and become a doctor, a doctor is not what a hero makes. Beth earning credentials is not going to suddenly validate her position on the team. I love comic!Beth treating Henry Jr. and rushing out to help the both the wounded JSA and villains they come across. She's awesome and I felt SO happy reading comics with her because Beth Chapel truly was a hidden inspiration of her era. But our Beth has compassion and empathy and from what we see again and again, I see Comic!Beth developing through our Beth that we know.

The girl wants to fight. Why can't we let her?

Absolutely, Beth needs to train more and learn to be comfortable combatting, and this season is the time and place for her to do it. She has Hourman watching her back as a defence, and is entering an environment where she may become the only JSA member with a full visibility to see what is going on in the dark.

Beth is only going to grow up. She's going to get older and more experienced just like the rest. We can speculate she'll develop an interest as a team medic but at the end of the day it doesn't exactly matter with where she is right now. Right now, Beth hasn't even had that much character room to grow. But it's nitpicking to fault her for this. She didn't get her own full episode, she didn't get her own training montage or special instructions from Pat. Anj has said Beth goes through tremendous character growth this season, and I believe it based on what we are already starting to see. Let's give this 16 year old a chance and come back at the end of the season.

#dr mid nite #beth chapel #stargirl #hn talks #Anon we are on the same page #I understand what you mean and I appreciate it too #but the point of a journey is having a journey #courtney and rick and yolanda are neither perfect themselves and it's very much satisfying to watch heroes grow into their best selves #rather than seeing them show up already as experts #it's not realistic #anon #ask

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trashbag-baby666 · 3 years

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Make Me Feel Loved Again-Baberoe

(Sequel to How To Mess Up With a Soulmate)

Thank you @neverendingstories00 for giving me ideas for this!

Joe and David were a year out of high school. Living together in a small apartment in Cambridge. Joe was both sad and excited to leave Frisco'. Granted Gene and Babe shared the same apartment as Gene was in the Harvard Med program. David, majoring in literature.

Babe sang to himself, tone deaf as ever as he made everyone breakfast.

"Joe's lucky he's completely deaf. Heffron over here can't sing for shit." David spoke and signed at the same time.

"Well at least his sign is better than it was in high school," Joe signed and offered David a smile before sipping his coffee.

"Yeah well I still gotta deal with his off key singing," Gene smiled and messed with his hearing aids as he sat at the table.

"Maybe I'll just eat all the pancakes myself!" Babe pouted as he brought the stack of pancakes to the table.

"We're kidding Edward," Gene kissed his cheek, "I hate to skip your pancakes but I'm going to be late to my lab."

"Leaving already? Take a pancake with you on the road." Joe snickered and sent Babe a wink.

"Shut it Lieb," Gene plucked a pancake off the top of the stack and shoved it into a zip lock bag. Then shoved it in his bag.

"By Gene i love you," Babe smirked and pulled Gene down for a kiss. Gene just nodded and jogged out. Once Babe heard the door close and he sighed.

"Guys do you think Genes acting weird? Almost distant?"

"I mean he's really busy with lining up his residency and getting into the med program is a big deal." David started rambling and signing.

"Yeah he seems to be distancing himself but I don't think he's doing it on purpose." Joe signed and shrugged before cutting another piece off his pancake.

"Best thing is just to talk to him about it when you see him today." David suggested.

"Yeah I just hope he doesn't want to break up with me. I mean like ever since he said those words and they disappeared on my skin I just fell so in love." Babe frowned.

"I've tried to break up with Web three times now and the universe won't let it happen." Joe giggled at his own comment.

"Joey!" David signed then slapped Joes arm.

"I'll just talk to him tonight when we lay down for bed." Babe frowned and dismissed himself from the table. He had to work anyways, he laid down on Genes side of the bed. He pulled Genes pillow into his chest. Babe smiled at the smell of Genes after shave and shampoo.

He needed to figure out why Gene was distancing himself.

Babe bent down and clipped the leash to a dogs collar, "Hey Lew?" Babe sighed and let the pitbull pull him over to Lew.

"What's up Heffron?" Lew sighed and flipped through the paperwork.

"I just I'm having some relationship issues." Babe bent down and pet the brown dog. Babe grabbed a treat up off the counter.

"What's going on?" Nix shut his binder and turned in the office chair to look at him.

"Well I was really excited when Gene asked me to move with him when he got into Harvard. But lately he's been really distant, not saying i love you back. I know he's busy because getting into like a med program is hard but especially at Harvard."

"Babe get to the point," Lew sighed and pet the dog as Babe taught him how to shake.

"Well I don't know if I did something wrong or if he wants to break up?" Babe frowned and let the dog tackle Babe in kisses. Babe giggled and hugged the dog.

"Is he your soulmate?" He asked, Babe nodded and sighed.

"Well maybe he is just busy with his schooling I mean it sounds like he'd be crazy busy." Lew shrugged and smiled as the dog leaned into Lee's grip as he pet the dog.

"Yeah I've been trying to just give him space to work and study." Babe frowned and let the dog basically lay on him.

"Oh yeah can you take Arlo home for the night? Our kennels are full and his owner can't pick him up till tomorrow afternoon?" Nix pointed his pen at the brown pitbull laying on Babe.

"Oh for sure, Arlo is just the sweetest!" Babe smiled and pet the dog and grabbed Arlo another treat.

Babe hummed as the elevator brought him and Arlo up to their floor. Babe was just excited to see Babe and pray that he wasn't too busy to cuddle.

They got off at their floor and walked till they got to the apartment. Babe fumbled with the keys before opening the door.

Arlo instantly started sniffing around. Babe didn't think anything to it and dropped Arlo's leash as he slid his shoes off.

Then mentally face palmed as he heard Joes grunt from down the hall. The taller man came storming out of his room. His hands flying, "Heffron why is there a dog in our apartment!? Web is allergic to dogs!" He signed.

"Oh uh, we didn't have enough room at the daycare for him?" Babe shrugged, "Arlo!"

"Well what're you gonna do about it now, Webs gonna he home any minute." Joe glanced at his watch as he signed.

"Arlo will just chill in me and Genes room," Babe frowned and picked up Arlo's leash.

"No dogs Heffron, no more dogs after this." Joe sighed and walked back to whatever he was doing.

"Come on Arlo, ignore big, mean Lieb. His bark is worse than his bite." Babe led Arlo down the hall to his and Genes room. He opened the door and Gene was working on his homework. Then Babe noticed his hearing aids sitting beside him on the desk.

He sighed and kissed Gene on the cheek to get his attention.

"Hey Babe," Gene smiled and turned around then saw the dog, "And who is this?"

"His names Arlo, hes just staying the night tonight." Babe smiled and got out Arlos stuff out of his bag.

"Can you repeat yourself Babe?" Gene frowned and put his hearing aids back in.

"Oh his names Arlo and he's just staying for the night," Babe signed as he spoke.

"He's adorable," Gene smiled and pet the dog, "Isn't Web allergic to dogs?"

"Yeah that's why Arlo is staying in here, I hope that's no issue? I can try to help with your studying if I can?" Babe frowned and walked over to the desk.

"I love you hun but I don't think you can. It's just, come here." Gene wrapped his arms around Babes waist and pulled him into his lap. He turned the chair so Babe could look at Genes text book.

"I like this unit a lot it has a lot about the science of going deaf or being hard of hearing." Gene smiled.

"That's cool," he kissed Gene gently.

"Babe I gotta get to work," Gene frowned.

"Oh okay," Babe nodded and kissed his cheek again. Babe climbed off of Genes lap and sat on the bed. Arlo jumped up on the bed and he giggled.

"Hey boy," he fluffed around Arlo. He watched Gene mutter something to himself and take his hearing aids back out. Babe frowned and went back to playing more quieter with Arlo.

The next few nights went the same. Babe would come home and Gene would either want to rest in silence or he was working.

Babe ended up watching a movie with Joe and David one night. But that was a bad idea as Joe and David were sucking each other's faces off from the other side of the couch.

Babe rolled his eyes and huffed. He got off the couch and set the popcorn on the TV stand.

He walked to his and Genes room and opened the door.

Gene was sitting on the bed with notebooks and textbooks spread around him and a half eaten sandwich on a plate.

"Genie bug?" Babe smiled as he came in.

"Hey Babe, Uhm I can move if you wanna go to bed." Gene smiled.

"No I was hoping you'd take a break. It might be better for you. I feel like you work non stop." Babe frowned and sat on the bed opposite of Gene.

"I love you but I just can't I need to get this stuff done it's important," Gene sighed and set his pen down.

"L'amour you're going to work yourself to death just take a break for the rest of the night." Babe sighed taking Genes hands.

"Edward, I really can't." Gene sighed and pulled his hands from Babes.

"It's fine, if you want to break up just say it." Babe sighed and laid down so his vision was fixated on the ceiling.

"Babe? come here what's gotten into you?" Gene sighed and reached over his textbooks.

"Don't touch me it's fine just go back to your work." Babe huffed turning his head to look at Gene.

"Let's go to bed darling," Gene sighed and closed up his books and notebooks and put them on the desk along with the sandwich.

Babe sighed and slid off his pants then crawled in bed not wanting to put in much effort.

Gene sighed and took his hearing aids out and shut the light off in their room. The Christmas lights Babe had strung up around the room lightly illuminated Babe. He had his back turned to Genes side of the bed. He frowned then climbed into bed next to him and laid there. He began to feel guilty, maybe he was spending too much time on school.

He placed a hand on Babes shoulder, Babe sighed as he knew exactly what this meant.

Babe turned over in bed to look at Gene, "What's wrong?" Gene signed.

Babe sighed, "I'm cold can you just hold me?" Babe signed.

"What?" Gene furrowed his eyebrows at Babes sign.

"I said I'm cold," Babe signed again.

"You're saying I'm dog," Gene laughed.

"Can you correct it?" Babe asked, Gene nodded and corrected Babes hand movements.

"I love you," Gene signed.

"I love you too," Babe kissed his cheek.

"We'll talk in the morning okay?" Gene asked holding Babes hands. Babe just nodded and snuggled into Gene.

The next day Babe woke up to the rich smell of french toast and leaped out of bed. He walked to the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Gene cooking up breakfast.

"Morning Gene," Babe wrapped his arms around Gene and kissed him under his ear.

"Morning Edward," he hummed as he plated the French toast, "I managed to nag Lieb and Web to go out for breakfast so we could have some time to ourselves." Gene winked. A smile grew across Babes face and he felt himself rise in blushes.

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #david webster #baberoe #babe heffron #eugene roe #easy company #modern au

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

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Calling on the Rain

Summary: What’s a first date without an interlude from Mother Nature? Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (part of the Yvonne/Ray/Arlo series which I’ve yet to name. 🤦🏽‍♀️) Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: All the fluff! A/N: This was a request from the lovely @livinglifeformemyselfandi ! Enjoy!!

Completing a PhD in clinical psychiatry at Cornell tended to leave one without time for any sort of social life. Lately however, Yvonne had found herself trying to carve out little bits of it here and there. All because of a guy.

Being 26 with an MCAT score in the 500’s, Yvonne had breezed through her undergraduate program, but with her time at med school coming to a close, the pressure was on. She could start applying for her residency positions next year, and while she was beyond excited, the major shift didn’t come without a healthy dose of fear. She needed some time to simply…be, and since she wasn’t a fan of being alone, finally accepting a date from the guy in her neuro class seemed like the best idea.

Arlo was from London, and though he’d explained it more than once, Yvonne still couldn’t fathom why he’d chosen to do his med program in the States. It didn’t matter however; the moment he’d opened his mouth, she was a goner.

The plans for the day were simple. A walk around town, taking in the sites, lunch at a little cafe that had an unbelievable dessert selection, and finally, a late show of a movie they’d both wanted to see.

Putting on a pair of Navy shorts, a cream tank top, and a matching pair of strappy sandals, she checked her hair and makeup one last time before heading out to meet Arlo in the common room. To say she was nervous was an understatement, but Yvonne knew that if she chickened out or cancelled on him again, she’d lose her shot with him and that was the last thing she wanted.

Arlo’s glance up at her put an ear-to-ear smile on Yvonne’s face, flustering her to the point where she had to keep her hand on the railing despite usually being okay without it.

“You look lovely,” he said as he extended his arm to her, Yvonne taking a moment to take him in before linking her arm through his. She was glad she wasn’t over or underdressed, and couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when she realized they matched.

“And you look very handsome,” Yvonne replied, her nerves easing a bit as they got moving.

“How’re you doing on your project?”

“Nope. Don’t wanna talk about it. Any topic other than school,” Yvonne grinned before playfully letting her head fall to his shoulder as though she were going to faint. Arlo laughed warmly, squeezing her hand as he thought about other topics. Never once did he ask her to move her head, and never once did Yvonne entertain the notion. After a few moments, his arm came around her, tucking her in close.

“Any topic other than school. Fair. What’s a movie that you can watch over and over again?”

“The second Mighty Ducks movie,” Yvonne answered sheepishly, pushing her face into Arlo’s chest as her cheeks caught fire.

“Didn’t take you for the sports type. I’ll keep that in mind come winter,” Arlo grinned, giving her a playful wink. It was his words that caught Yvonne’s heart in her chest however, the easy way he promised that they’d still be a thing at least until next winter. It intrigued her and Yvonne couldn’t help the excitement she felt at the prospect of actually having someone to be with.

“What about you?”

“Mine? I’m gonna have to go with...The Professional. Still holds up.”

Arlo held the door for Yvonne as they veered into one of the first shops along their walk, a place that sold a variety of different knick-knacks, from old skeleton keys to little frog statues, and even street signs. Though the aisles were narrow, they manage to stay side by side, Yvonne relaxing more and more into the warmth of his chest as they browsed.

“What’s one dish you’d never stop eating if there was an endless amount of it in front of you?” He asked as they checked out postcards, the majority related to their chosen alma mater.

“Ooh, good question! Fettuccine. Always. So yummy,” Yvonne answered, hoping her stomach wouldn’t growl at the thought of her favorite meal, especially since she’d skipped breakfast on account of nerves.

“Yeah, Fettuccine’s great. Personally, I’d be really sad if the world didn’t have pizza,” Arlo chuckled, letting her lead the way to the back of the store, where they had all sorts of games and toys, a few that harkened back to childhood.

Yvonne couldn’t help but reach for the magic 8 ball as soon as she saw it, her grin turning excited as she shook it.

“Will we enjoy the movie?” She asked, one eyebrow raised as she gazed up at Arlo, giggling when his expression mirrored hers. When the liquid settled, the window read a clear answer.

Outlook good.

“I hope so. Everyone can’t stop talking about it,” Arlo laughed, shaking his head before taking the 8 ball from Yvonne and giving it a shake of his own.

“Will my devastatingly smart and beautiful date find me up to snuff before the night is out?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice soft in the quiet store. Yvonne couldn’t help but cover her mouth to muffle her laughter when he showed her the answer.

My sources say no.

Arlo pouted, giving her his best puppy dog eyes, hunched shoulders and all.

“That’s not true!” Yvonne shook her head, giggling as she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, unable to help the little flutter in her heart when his already ruddy cheeks went a shade pinker. The blush was made even better by his smile, the genuine happiness bringing out a more youthful side to him.

Taking the eight ball back, Yvonne shook it vigorously while she thought of a question to ask. She wanted it to be something outlandish, a prediction that couldn’t be true in a million years. Something that would cement this as the best date she’d ever been on, were it to come true.

“Will it rain on our date? Maybe right at the very end so I don’t have to walk around with frizzy hair all day?” Once more her eyebrow went up, part of her hoping it happened, and part hoping it didn’t, if only because she’d just gotten her hair done two days before and she’d opted for a silk press. As gorgeous as it was, it wasn’t rainproof in the slightest, and Yvonne didn’t want it to get ruined.

Better not tell you now.

Shrugging, she smiled sweetly at Arlo before wiggling her eyebrows, eyes wide. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“That was…”

“Delicious,” Arlo agreed, taking Yvonne’s hand as they made their way out of the restaurant, having a little time--and a small walk--to the theater.

They’d both chosen the Fettucine--hers with chicken and his with steak--and a glass of wine, and though the cafe was somewhat empty given the time of day, it might as well have been last call, because Yvonne felt like there was no one else in there with her except Arlo and she couldn’t have been happier.

He’d paid without even asking, so as they approached a candy store, Yvonne all but pushed him inside, giggling like a mischievous kid as she did so. “My treat. Can’t go to the movies without a few essentials.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Arlo let her lead him through the aisles, picking out things here and there, wondering how much of it would be used as study fuel later on when they headed back to the reality that was med school.

“So we’ve got Reese’s Pieces, gummy bears, fuzzy peaches, Milk Duds, and of course, Junior Mints.” Yvonne explained her haul as they left the store, carefully putting each candy in her purse and shuffling things around so that nothing bulged inconspicuously.

“I’ll never understand why theaters get upset when people bring their own candy. It’s not as though we haven’t already paid for the tickets,” Arlo mused, gently shifting Yvonne out of the way of a cyclist who was careening down the sidewalk. Startled to be moved so suddenly, Yvonne was about to say something to Arlo when the gust of wind caused by the passing cyclist nearly took her off her feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered, one eye half shut as she tried to blink the dust out of it. Yvonne’s breath caught in her throat when she felt Arlo’s warm hands cup her face. “Open as much as you can, and I’ll try and blow it out,” he explained, keeping her face steady and waiting until he saw her brown eyes fully opened before letting a quick burst of air escape his lips.

“Better?” Arlo asked, ducking his head to meet Yvonne’s gaze.

“Yes, much better, actually. Thank you. Again,” she smirked, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek, this time unable to help but smooth her hand over Arlo’s blushing cheek.

Yvonne would later chalk it up to misleading marketing and the exhaustion of med school, but after sitting through the first half of the movie--and half a bag of gummy bears which she shared with Arlo--she found her eyes growing heavy. Before she realized it, she was out like a light. Far from being put off, Arlo carefully lifted the armrest that separated them and tugged her in close, letting her head rest on his chest as his arm cradled her gently. As the credits rolled, he rubbed her back gently to wake her.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” Yvonne groaned as she straightened herself out, realizing what she’d done. Arlo couldn’t help his big grin, finding her utterly endearing in her half-awake state.

“You didn’t miss much, believe me. I’ve half a mind to petition the movie studio for my money back, it was so boring.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t just me. Good. That makes me feel a little better,” she shook her head, remembering what little she’d seen of the movie and how she kept waiting for the action to begin.

“Ah, well, two out of three isn’t bad. Overall I think we did alright, no? As far as first dates go?” The anxiety and hope in his facial expression made Yvonne smile, knowing full well he was wishing on every last star in the sky that she would feel the same.

“I think we did more than alright. I think there’s second and third date potential there, mister.”

This time, Arlo blushed hard enough that he had to look away, though there was no missing the big, bright grin and the excitement in his eyes. Yvonne held him a little closer as they walked through the theater’s lobby, her own smile unwavering until she took a look outside.

“Oh my!” Arlo exclaimed, his expression a mix between true shock and more than a little amusement.

“Guess the 8 ball was right,” Yvonne answered, cringing momentarily before dissolving into giggles. “I just had to ask about rain, huh?”

“That just means you’re magic, love. True magic,” Arlo’s laughter sobered as he spoke, his blue eyes softening as he gazed down at Yvonne, looking for all the world like a man head-over-heels in love.

Pausing to think for a moment, Yvonne weighed their options; a taxi back to student housing (which would cost a fortune) or ruining her hair (which would also cost a pretty penny) on the first date with the first guy she’d truly been interested in since her childhood crush on her brother’s friend. Taking a deep breath, she took Arlo’s hand and tugged him through the door, knowing they were both about to get soaked to the bone.

“Love, what are you doing!?” Arlo called over the pouring rain, squinting against the drops and trying his best to pull Yvonne back into the building.

“Come on! I’ve always wanted to dance under the rain!” Yvonne answered, beaming at Arlo despite the drops that battered down on them.

Though he couldn’t hear it at first, when Arlo finally reached Yvonne, the soft sounds of music coming from a nearby restaurant were clear. Pulling her flush to his chest, Arlo took her hand in his and slipped the other around her waist.

Time ground to a halt as they slow danced, forgetting the rain, the cars going by, or even the people watching from inside the stores. There was only the rain, the stars, and the other person.

Their eyes met as the rain began to slow from a downpour to a sprinkle, and without a moment’s hesitation, Yvonne reached up on her tip toes and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to Arlo’s lips, capping off the best date she’d ever had, ever.

Two things were certain to Yvonne as she and Arlo slowly parted from their kiss; she’d have to make more time to simply be, with Arlo, and she’d have to go back for that Magic 8 Ball soon.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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littleredlie · 3 years

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Derailed (S1P1)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical. On the day of Med’s reopening Morgan is in the middle of a tense situation as old friends from the past come back and form uneasy relationships with newer friends. Based off S1E1 of Chicago Med.

3.9k+ Words

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Will Halstead, Natalie Manning, April Sexton, Maggie Lockwood, Ethan Choi, Daniel Charles, Sarah Reese, Sharon Goodwin, Connor Rhodes Warning: This might be complete shit, I don’t know. I tried my hardest with the medical stuff, a lot might be inaccurate. A/N: Let me know how you like it

The alarm clock that sat on the nightstand beside Morgan’s bed rang as it changed to 4:45 AM. At the sound, the weary woman’s eyes blink open with great difficulty. She does not move for a moment, letting the alarm to ring a bit more before slapping her hand against the off button. Pulling herself up, she peeks out the open window to her right, noticing that Chicago was slowly coming to life for the day. It was November now, she had to turn the heat in the apartment soon though her roommate has been telling her to do it since August, but it always got hot in Morgan’s room. She hears a train nearby rumbling along the tracks and she can see a light tinge of blue sitting on the horizon. She had been back in Chicago for three years, but the mornings still entranced her. When a bird flies past her window, Morgan takes it as a signal to start getting ready for work.

Turning on the lamp, her small room becomes illuminated and the picture of her sister that sat on the nightstand beside the alarm clock came into view. It was taken during Morgan’s graduation from medical school about a month before their lives changed. Tearing her eyes away from the frame, she slips the bonnet off her head and places it on the vacant pillow to her left. The bun her hair was in unwraps into a ponytail, the ends of her braids tickling her upper back. Throwing the blue covers off her bare legs, Morgan slips her feet into the slippers beside her bed and trudges towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. However, before she could get there, she noticed a light peering out from under her roommate’s door. She stops and softly knocks, pushing the door a little without waiting for a knock.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Morgan’s eyes sweep over Hayden’s body and she is immediately given her answer. The reporter was slumped over her desk, papers scattered over her bed and on the floor. Hayden looks up to Morgan, her glasses sitting on top of her head and bags stacking under her eyes.

“I’m about to get a huge lead about a sex trafficking group operating around Garfield Park and Humboldt. People are going missing and I know that I’m getting near, I just need –”

“What you need is rest” Morgan interrupts her leaning on the doorframe. “You cannot keep pushing this hard or your body is gonna crash”

“But–”

“No buts.” Morgan pulls the pen out of her roommate’s hand. “Get some rest please, doctor’s orders.”

“You know you cannot keep using your occupation over me, you don’t see me saying investigative reporter’s orders.” Hayden leans back in her chair, arms folding over her chest, a soft smile on her lips.

“Well, when I go chasing sex traffickers in Central Chicago than you can pull that shit.” She smiles back. “I’m gonna go get ready for work, I don’t need the car today so I’ll leave the car keys on the counter.”

“It's reopening today right? After ya know.” Hayden shrugs. That night was rough, Morgan was running on fumes before the explosion and after the lockdown she was trying her best not to tip over.

“Yeah, it’s being televised,” the doctor forces a breath out. “I hope today’s easy, cause these last few months have not. I’ll see you later.” With that Morgan closes Hayden’s bedroom door and heads to the bathroom. Soon the shower head is pushing out water and steam is beginning to fog up the mirrors. The clock in the bathroom reads 4:57 and Morgan knows that she has to hurry if she wants to make it to the hospital by 5:45. She was glad that they found this apartment not too far from the hospital that she’d been working at for the past three years.

When a shower cap is put over her braids, the dark skinned woman puts herself under the warm water, her shoulder muscles relaxing just a little. Almost instinctively, her hand grazes over the surgical scar that was just under her belly and it lingers. Pulling her hand away she focuses on the rest of her body until she is done. She dries herself and applies lotion quickly, wanting to bring the attention to her makeup. Morgan did not do much when it came to makeup, she’d put light foundation and do her eyebrows. She decided to leave her box braids in a high bun reinforced bu two scrunchies. With a towel wrapped around her body, Morgan heads to her room to get dressed.

Her maroon scrubs and white lab coat were folded on top of the ottoman at the end of her bed. Slipping on a pair of black boxer briefs and a black sports bra, she knew that she had no one to impress. It’s been a bit of a dry spell since she broke up with her detective ex-boyfriend last spring. It wasn’t like it bothered her much, she was busy with work and had been focusing on her family. There wasn’t time to date (and she couldn’t deny that it took a bit of time to get over him). Glancing at the clock again, she sees that it was 5:20. The train station was about five minutes away, so she had to hurry. She’ll eat when she gets to the hospital. Throwing on her sneakers, jacket, scarf, and hat, Morgan then grabs her phone and her well prepared backpack.

A chill danced down her spine the moment she stepped outside and made her way to the train station. She waves to the lady opening the flower store to her right as her steps reverberate off the concrete steps. Putting in the headphones connected to her phone, Morgan starts an audio book, her focus only on the words of the story and her destination.

It wasn’t long till she got there, recognizing familiar commuters and passing a few smiles to those who were willing to accept. The ride was uneventful, but Morgan was not focusing on everyone else. She was either listening to the book or her mind was wondering about the day that laid out in front of her. Working in an emergency department was unpredictable, it could be a day filled with easy answers and wins or it could be tragic, long, hard, stressful. Morgan’s been at Chicago Memorial for three years, finishing her residency for emergency medicine and then accepting an attending position. After graduating from University of Colorado’s M.D. program, she decided to come back home after 11 years and applied to a few hospitals in Chicago. Chicago Memorial was her first choice and when she got it, it was like she was starting over. That was until everything happened.

The train stops at her destination and the doctor shuffles off with a few others. Briskly, she makes her way to the hospital, arriving the same time as Dr. Will Halstead. Yanking the headphones from her ears, she walks up to him and nudges him slightly, bringing a small smile to his face.

“Ready for today?” She asks him and he looks down at her, nodding slightly.

“I was so excited I couldn’t sleep last night,” Morgan laughs at his tone and he laughs with her.

“Okay, let’s just get through the day.” Together they walk through the lobby where people are beginning to set up for a press conference. In the doctor’s lounge, Will diverts his attention to Natalie while Morgan heads to her locker. She hangs up her backpack on the hook, pulls out her white coat to put on, and pulls out her purple stethoscope, stuffing it into the left pocket of her white coat. She makes sure her pager is on before stuffing it into her right coat packet.

Soon doctors, nurses, reporters, administration and more are standing in the lobby listening to Mrs. Goodwin speak praising remarks for the mayor. There are cheers and claps resonating around the room and the air is light. It isn’t like that for too long. The second Goodwin cuts the ribbon for the new emergency department, various pagers and cell phones begin to ring. Morgan looks at Dr. Choi when he pulls out his pager and soon after hers begins to ring. She pulls it out and glances down to it, her eyebrows furrowing together. She sees the Mayor being ushered off before Maggie walks out through the automatic doors.

“CFD Plan 2, mass cas. Multiple trauma patients, minutes away.” She yells. “Let’s go!” She urges and medical personnel begin to push themselves through the doors.

❦

All of sudden the emergency department is busy and there are sirens nearing the hospital. Maggie immediately begins delegating as paramedics pour through from the bay. Morgan is pushed to Trauma 1.

A young teenage girl who’s clutching her arm to her chest sits on the gurney. Morgan peers down and sees her tibia poking out of her shin and knows that the girl is in pain.

“Let’s start a morphine drip!” Dr. Fitzgerald yells out, a nurse fulfilling her orders. “Transfer on my count, gently,” everyone surrounding the girl clutches at the sheet, preparing to move her onto the treatment table. “One, two, three,” with a soft thud the girl is finally on the table.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitzgerald, what’s your name sweetie?”

“Grace,” she breathes out, obviously having trouble breathing. “My name’s Grace.”

“Alright Grace, we’re doing everything we can to help you.” Morgan flashes a light in front of her eyes to see her pupil’s reaction. “Pupils are reactive to light, blood pressure and sats are normal, heart rate is increasing. She’s tachy, let’s push 3 of Ativan.” The room moves around Morgan as they tend to the patient who is crying in front of her. Morgan puts a nasal cannula on Grace’s face so that she could breathe easier.

Moving to her head, Morgan takes off the collar and looks down. “Grace, I need you to do something for me real quick, okay?” Morgan nods and places her hands to each side of Grace’s head. “Alright, can you touch your chin to the chest?” Grace does so and Morgan then has her move her head side to side. “C-Spine’s clear. Doris, get me Xray and Ortho down here.”

“On it!” Doris leaves the room momentarily, before returning back to help. Morgan walks down to Grace’s feet and checks it’s pulse.

“Need any help in here?” Dr. Halstead’s voice comes up from behind Morgan and she gives out a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Halstead, I need you to help me reset her tibia before it leads to any deficits.” She says to him, not taking her eyes off of Grace. “Where the hell is that xray?!”

“Should be here momentarily, they’re all used up,” Will heads to the side of Grace’s right leg and nods to Morgan.

“Hey Grace, this is going to hurt a lot, but we need to do this, okay?” Grace goes into panic mode and starts shaking her head, tears ferociously gliding down her face.

“No, please no!”

“Grace, I understand how you might feel right now, but Dr. Halstead and I need to do this. I promise, it’ll take just a few seconds and then we can fix you up.” Without waiting for confirmation from the teenage girl, Morgan nods towards her colleague and together they work. Morgan pulls down on Grace’s leg, maneuvering the tibia back into her leg. Grace lets out a scream, tears moving down her face at a faster rate. “Alright, Grace, we’re all good now.” Xray finally walks in and everyone who is void of a lead apron, moves out of the way.

In the background Maggie reports another incoming, and it pulls the attention of the two doctors. “You got this from here?” Will looks down, aiming the question at Morgan.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ll be there to help you when I get Grace up to the OR.” She nods and he places a gentle hand on her arm, her replying with a soft smile. Will walks away from her and she turns back to her patient. Morgan and Doris work on calming her down and prepping her for her trip upstairs.

“What do you got for me?” Someone from surgery walks up behind Morgan, slightly starting her.

“She has an open fracture to her tibia, we cleaned the wound and maneuvered the bone back into her leg. Her arm has a closed fracture, due to her Xray I’d say she just needs a cast. Her leg, she’s definitely going to need surgery for realignment.” The surgeon, Dr. Lasonde, nods and both she and Morgan work to get Grace upstairs.

Soon Grace is on her way upstairs, her leg and arm placed into splints, and Morgan is throwing her gloves to the ground as she watches Lassonde push the gurney, a frightened Grace on top of it. Running a hand through her hair and giving a sigh out, she thanks the team around her before being rerouted to another person coming through the doors.

❦

Later, as she works at the computer filling out paperwork for Grace, Morgan peers up and notices someone stepping out of Trauma 4 and talking to Mrs. Goodwin.

Connor?

Before Morgan can approach him another team of paramedics walk in with Jamie and Goodwin sends them into a treatment room. Morgan looks down and finishes typing up her charts. “Hey Sharon!” Morgan yells to grab the administrator’s attention and she stops, stepping beside the curious doctor. “Was that Connor Rhodes?”

“Yeah, he’s the new trauma fellow. You know him?” She looks between the room he stepped in and Dr. Fitzgerald.

“Yeah, I do.” She says absentmindedly, “ Huh, I wonder why he didn’t tell me?” Morgan wonders for a moment before looking back down to the computer screen. “It’s fine, I don’t want to bother him while he’s with a patient.”

“I don’t have to worry about anything do I?” Sharon asks, hoping that drama wasn’t gonna arise between them.

“Oh, of course not! Connor and I have known each other since we were kids, he just didn’t tell me he was being transferred here. Don’t worry Sharon.” Goodwin nods and walks away from Morgan. Then Maggie walks up with a distraught, older white woman. “What can I do for you Mags?” MOrgan finally turns away from the computer and gives the duo her full attention.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, this is Grace’s mom, Candace.” Maggier introduces and Morgan smiles at the woman, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“Is my daughter okay?” Candace asks, fear in her eyes and Morgan does her best to calm her down.

“I can assure you that your daughter is okay. She had a closed fracture in her arm that just needed a cast and her leg had an open fracture. That’s a little more complicated, but she just needs her tibia realigned so she’s in surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“It shouldn’t be too long now, and I am willing to walk you up to wait for her.” Morgan places a gentle touch on Candace’s forearm and beckons her to follow. “Thank you, Maggie. I got her.” Maggie nods and continues her job as a charge nurse.

As the doctor and patient make their way, Candace begins to ramble. “Grace wasn’t supposed to be on the train today, I was supposed to take her. This is all my fault.”

“Candace. Candace.” Morgan pulls the woman to a stop and looks her in the eye. “It is not your fault, these things just happen. But that’s not what Grace is worried about right now, I’m pretty sure that she just wants to see her mother.” Candace sniffles and reluctantly nods, letting the doctor take her to the waiting room outside Grace’s OR.

❦

After doing a few more rounds in the emergency department, Morgan sat herself in the doctor’s lounge, still not able to find time to talk to Connor. Morgan isn’t paying attention to the conversation happening between Natalie and Will, instead focusing on the charts of another one of her patients on the tablet in her hands.

“You meet the new guy yet? Rhodes?” At her friend’s name leaving Natalie’s lips, Morgan’s head snaps up.

“You could say that.” Will answers back. “Likes to throw his weight around.” He leans back in his chair, his body still facing Natalie. “I don’t know, strikes me as a little arrogant.”

Natalie gives him a little look as she contemplates the words he just said to her.

“Hey, I am not arrogant.” He scoffs at her, a teasing smile on his face. Morgan rolls her eyes and feels herself getting a little defensive over her old friend.

“No, no. Not at all.” Natalie says, sarcastically, to his remarks. “You just happen to know more than anyone else.”

“Hey,” Morgan grasps the attention of her friends and colleagues. “I promise Connor isn’t always like that. It was just a stressful situation to be making introductions.” She says, barely looking up to her colleagues.

“Woah, Connor?” Will questions at the familiarity that Morgan had with his name. He glances at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, Dr. Rhodes. He’s an excellent doctor and he’s great to work with.”

“Have you ever worked with him?” Natalie asks, taking another sip from her water bottle.

“No, I haven’t. But I know him and I promise, he isn’t a dick.” With that Morgan makes her way out of the room, she smiles at Nat and doesn’t spare a look at Will.

❦

A few hours later, Morgan makes her way up to see Grace. She’s up and talking to her mom, a smile on her face. Morgan knocks at the entrance of the recovery room, peering her head in to take a view at her patient.

“Dr. Fitzgerald!” Candace exclaims, waving the young doctor in.

“How’s everything going Grace? You look a lot better than when I first saw you.” Morgan glances over her vitals and chart before walking to the unoccupied side of the bed.

“Yeah, I’m doing better. The pain meds are really helping out.” She grins.

“That’s good. It looks like you’re okay for being discharged tomorrow morning. And I will try my hardest to come by and see you off.”

“Thank you Dr. Fitzgerald.” Candace reaches over and clasps Morgan’s hand. “For helping my daughter and for helping me.”

“It’s no problem, really.” She squeezes back before pulling away. “You two have a good night, and just let any of the nurses know if you need anything.” With that Morgan delivers one more smile and heads out of the room.

Now that it was the end of her shift Morgan decided to make finding Connor her number one goal.. She was ready to give up but finally spotted him standing outside a recovery room. She sneaks up beside him and peers in, Jamie is off of the ventilator and Dr. Charles sits beside him watching something on a tablet. Morgan had heard about the operation Jamie had and she could tell that he looked so much better.

“So, when were you gonna tell me that you were coming back to Chicago?” Connor jumps, whipping around to look at the owner of the voice.

“Morgan!” He chuckles out, pulling the doctor into his embrace. She hugs him back before pulling herself out and raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, were you just going to end up on our front doorstep hoping we were gonna take you in?”

“No, I was going to surprise you. I just wanted to come back, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. Welcome home Connor.” She gives him a small smile, looking at the one he was returning to her. “Hey, I heard about your comatose patient, sorry about that.”

“Yeah, it was tough, but he helped us save Jamie.”

“That’s good, Jamie’s a good kid. He deserves it.” They both look inside the room for a moment, before Morgan looks down at the watch sitting on her wrist. “Hey, there’s this diner that’s open 24 hours, wanna grab something to eat? Catch up and give you a bit of a rundown on how things are run here at Chicago Med.”

Connor looks down at Morgan, her head still facing Jamie and Dr. Charles. “Yeah, sure. You buying?” She finally looks up at him with a scoff.

“Yeah right.” The fellow laughs at her and she leads him back to the doctor’s lounge in the ED. Stripping herself of her stethoscope, she places it in the locker, taking a glance of the family picture she had pinned up alongside the picture she had with Connor from her undergrad graduation.

“You hang that up in here?” He gawks at the picture, noticing how much the two of you had grown in the last 7 years.

“Yeah, I did. You are my best friend, besides Hayden of course.” Morgan hangs up the white coat on a hook in the cubby under the locker before continuing her answer,“but even when we were miles apart, you were always there for me.” She softly closes the locker.

“Huh.” He looks at Morgan, coming to the same realization about her.

“Let’s go, I am dying for their mashed potatoes.” He smiles and grabs his belongings before heading out of the lounge with his friend. On the way out the door, they pass Will.

She urges Connor to continue walking as she looks up at her other friend. “Hey Will, I’m sorry for getting all snappy at you earlier. Just got a little overprotective.” Morgan shrugs, placing her hands in her jacket pocket.

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.” He nods, looking over the soft smile on her face.

“You’re okay, Connor has his moments.”

Will and Morgan were an enigma. They worked well together, everyone could agree on that. And outside of work, they proved to have a level of care for each other as well as always having each other’s backs. With the amount of affection they always seemed to portray to each other, everyone also wondered why they weren’t together. They made a good pair and the blinded love they had for each other was glaringly apparent to outsiders. The two doctors however, never saw it. Will was too hung up on his crush on Natalie and Morgan wasn’t looking for a relationship (the fact that she also dated his brother didn’t help). For now, they would be friends and if the universe allowed for something to happen, the universe would prevail.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Will asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

“Actually, I’m the welcoming committee for Dr. Rhodes so I’m taking him to the diner up the street.” Will nods, but dashes his eyes to where Connor is standing. “But tomorrow morning, I’m bringing coffee.” Morgan says, bringing a bigger smile on her face and chuckle to Will.

“Alright then, have a good night Morgan,” he says.

“Night Will, see you tomorrow.” She gives him a quick, small pat on his arm before turning away and walking up to Connor. They two old friends resume their conversation and Will watches the smile on Morgan’s face as she continues walking with the new doctor.

Part Two

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to-read-or-not-to-read3088 · 3 years

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70+ disabled, neurodiverse and chronically ill authors COLLAB

This post is in collaboration with several other bloggers whose links are included here:

Artie Carden

Anniek

Hi! It’s been a while since I posted anything, but this post has been a month in the making. I have twenty books by twenty authors for my part in this collaboration, and you can check out the other parts of the collab with the links at the top of the post.

I haven’t read some of these books but almost all of them are on my to be read pile, and I did extensive research to make sure I got this right, but please let me know if there are any mistakes or if anything needs to be corrected.

1. Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee

📷

Meet Cute Diary follows Noah Ramirez who thinks he’s an expert on romance. He must be for his blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem. All the stories are fake. What started off as the fantasies of a trans boy who was afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe. Noah’s world unravels when a troll exposes the blog as fiction, and the only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. That’s when Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place. Drew is willing to fake date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realises that dating in real life isn’t the same as finding love on the page.

The author, Emery Lee, is a kid lit author, artist and YouTuber hailing from a mixed racial background. After graduating with a degree in creative writing, e’s gone on to author novels, short stories and webcomics. When away from reading and writing, you’ll likely find em engaged in art or snuggling with cute dogs.

Emery Lee is nonbinary, and uses e/em pronouns, and e’s debut book, Meet Cute Diary, features a side character who is also nonbinary (and asexual!). Emery is also neurodivergent, and frequently speaks about what its like being a writer with adhd on twitter.

Meet Cute Diary is a book I only discovered last month, when it was published, but I’m excited to read it. It has representation of all kinds, and I love any book that has even a little mention of an asexual character because its so rare to see.

2. Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

📷

At Niveus Private Academy money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because an anonymous texter calling themselves Aces, is bringing two students’ dark secrets to light. Devon, a talented musician, buries himself in rehearsals, but he can’t escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Chiamaka, head girl, isn’t afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they’re planning much more than a high school game.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, is the author of the instant New York Times and IndieBound bestseller, Ace of Spades, billed as ‘Get out meets Gossip Girl’. Entertainment Weekly has called it “this summer’s hottest YA debut”. She was born and raised in Croydon, South London, and Faridah moved to the Scottish Highlands for her undergraduate degree where she completed a BA in English Literature. She has established and runs and mentorship scheme for unagented writers of colour, helping them on their journey to get published. Faridah has also written for NME, The Bookseller, Readers Digest and gal-dem.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé’s book is one that I pre-ordered months in advance, after discovering that I actually really liked this sub-genre of YA, and although I still haven’t read it yet (sorry!), I’m still super excited to dive into it. From what I hear, it has some gay rep, which we all know by now is something I seek out in my books.

3. Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O’Neal

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Priya has worked hard to pursue her pre med dreams at Stanford, but a diagnosis of chronic Lyme disease during her sophomore year sends her straight back to her loving but overbearing family in New Jersey and leaves her wondering if she’ll ever be able to return to the way things were. Thankfully she has her online pen pal, Brigid, and the rest of the members of “oof ouch my bones,” a virtual support group that meets on Discord to crack jokes and vent about their own chronic illnesses. When Brigid suddenly goes offline, Priya does something very out of character; she steals the family car and drives to Pennsylvania to check on Brigid. Priya isn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t the creature that’s shut in the basement. With Brigid nowhere in sight, Priya begins to puzzle together an impossible but obvious truth: the creature might be werewolf – and the werewolf might be Brigid. As Brigid’s unique condition worsens, their friendship will be deepened and challenged in unexpected ways, forcing them to reckon with their own ideas of what it means to be normal.

Kristen O’Neal is a freelance writer who’s written for sites like Buzzfeed Reader, Christianity Today, Birth.Movies.Death, LitHub and Electric Literature. She writes about faith, culture, and unexplained phenomena. Her debut novel, Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses is based on her own experiences with being chronically ill. Kristen has two autoimmune disorders and “a number of other problems and issues” with her body. According to her website, she is doing much better than she used to, but still has flares somewhat regularly.

I cannot describe the feeling of seeing a published book with the best group chat name I have ever seen. Oof ouch my bones is absolutely something that I would be part of if it really existed, because its just such a mood, and funny at the same time. I pre ordered this book too, but like all the others, I still haven’t gotten around to reading it. I’m super excited about it though and cannot recommend it enough.

4. Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

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Will Tavares is the dream summer fling – he’s fun, affectionate, kind – but just when Ollie thinks he’s found his Happily Ever After, summer vacation ends, and Will stops texting Ollie back. Now Ollie is one prince short of his fairy tale ending, and to complicate the fairy tale further, a family emergency sees Ollie uprooted and enrolled at a new school across the country. Which he minds a little less when he realises it’s the same school Will goes to…except Ollie finds out that the sweet, comfortably queer guy he knew from summer isn’t the same one attending Collinswood High. This Will is a class clown, closeted – and to be honest, a jerk. Ollie has no intention of pining after a guy who clearly isn’t ready for a relationship, especially since this new, bro-y jock version of Will seems to go from hot to cold every other week. But then Will starts “coincidentally” popping up in every area of Ollie’s life, from music class to the lunch table, and Ollie finds his resolve weakening. The last time he gave Will his heart, Will handed it back to him trampled and battered. Ollie would have to be an idiot to trust him with it again. Right? Right.

Sophie Gonzales was born and raised in Whyalla, South Australia, where the Outback Meets the Sea. She now lives in Melbourne, where there’s no outback in sight. Sophie’s been writing since the age of five, when her mother decided to help her type out one of the stories she had come up with in the bathtub. They ran into artistic differences when five-year-old Sophie insisted that everybody die in the end, while her mother wanted the characters to simply go out for a milkshake. Since then, Sophie has been completing her novels without a transcript. Sophie Gonzales tweets about her experiences with ADHD on her twitter.

Only mostly devasted is one of the few books on this list that I’ve read. I read the whole thing in one sitting because I just couldn’t put it down, which is weird because I normally don’t read contemporary at all. I have recommended this book to literally everyone I know, and even bought my best friend a copy to convince her to read it.

5. The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd Jones

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Seventeen-year-old Aderyn ("Ryn") only cares about two things: her family, and her family's graveyard. And right now, both are in dire straits. Since the death of their parents, Ryn and her siblings have been scraping together a meagre existence as gravediggers in the remote village of Colbren, which sits at the foot of a harsh and deadly mountain range that was once home to the fae. The problem with being a gravedigger in Colbren, though, is that the dead don't always stay dead. The risen corpses are known as "bone houses," and legend says that they're the result of a decades-old curse. When Ellis, an apprentice mapmaker with a mysterious past, arrives in town, the bone houses attack with new ferocity. What is it that draws them near? And more importantly, how can they be stopped for good? Together, Ellis and Ryn embark on a journey that will take them deep into the heart of the mountains, where they will have to face both the curse and the long-hidden truths about themselves.

Emily Lloyd-Jones grew up on a vineyard in rural Oregon, where she played in evergreen forests and learned to fear sheep. After graduating from Western Oregon University with an English degree, she enrolled in the publishing program at Rosemont College just outside of Philadelphia. She currently resides in Northern California.

Another book on my to be read pile that I’m super excited to read, but still haven’t gotten around to. This one features disability rep, but because I haven’t read it, I don’t know much more, sorry guys.

6. Mooncakes by Susanne Walker and Wendy Xu

📷Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town. One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home. Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.

Suzanne Walker is a Chicago-based writer and editor. She is co-creator of the Hugo-nominated graphic novel Mooncakes (2019, Lion Forge/Oni Press). Her short fiction has been published in Clarkesworld and Uncanny Magazine, and she has published nonfiction articles with Uncanny Magazine, StarTrek.com, Women Write About Comics, and the anthology Barriers and Belonging: Personal Narratives of Disability. She has spoken at numerous conventions on a variety of topics ranging from disability representation in sci-fi/fantasy to comics collaboration.

Wendy Xu is a Brooklyn-based illustrator and comics artist. She is co-creator of and currently draws the webcomic Mooncakes. Her work has been featured on Tor.com, as part of the Chinese American: Exclusion/Inclusion exhibit permanently housed at the Chinese Historical Society of America, and in Shattered: The Asian American Comics Anthology. She occasionally teaches at the Asian American Writers Workshop and currently works as an assistant editor curating young adult and children’s books.

Suzanne Walker suffers from hearing loss, something that she wrote into her graphic novel, Mooncakes, making Nova hard of hearing. I read this in a few years ago as an advance reader copy for Netgalley and it was honestly one of the best graphic novels I have ever read. The main characters are Chinese American, queer AND magic, which is an amazing combination of representation.

7. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

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Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can’t pull it off alone… A convict with a thirst for revenge A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager A runaway with a privileged past A spy known as the Wraith A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz’s crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don’t kill each other first.

Leigh Bardugo is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of fantasy novels and the creator of the Grishaverse (now a Netflix original series) which spans the Shadow and Bone Trilogy, the Six of Crows Duology, The Language of Thorns, and King of Scars—with more to come. Her short stories can be found in multiple anthologies, including the Best American Science Fiction & Fantasy. Her other works include Wonder Woman: Warbringer and Ninth House (Goodreads Choice Winner for Best Fantasy 2019) which is being developed for television by Amazon Studios.

Leigh grew up in Southern California and graduated from Yale University. These days she lives and writes in Los Angeles.

In the acknowledgements section of Six of Crows, Bardugo reveals she suffers from osteonecrosis and sometimes needs to use a cane; this was a source of inspiration for one of the story's six protagonists, master thief and gang boss Kaz Brekker, who uses a cane.

I read Six of Crows a few years ago and I really loved it. I’m not going to pretend I managed to finish the whole Grishaverse series, because I haven’t even gotten close yet, but it really showed Kaz’s struggles with his disability, and his mental health. This is part of a duology, and the duology is part of a large series of books with another duology and trilogy, but Six of Crows can be read without reading the others.

8. Hyperbole and A Half by Allie Brosh

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This is a book I wrote. Because I wrote it, I had to figure out what to put on the back cover to explain what it is. I tried to write a long, third-person summary that would imply how great the book is and also sound vaguely authoritative--like maybe someone who isn’t me wrote it--but I soon discovered that I’m not sneaky enough to pull it off convincingly. So, I decided to just make a list of things that are in the book: Pictures Words Stories about things that happened to me Stories about things that happened to other people because of me Eight billion dollars* Stories about dogs The secret to eternal happiness* *These are lies. Perhaps I have underestimated my sneakiness!

Allie is an American blogger, writer and comic artist best known for her blog in the form of a webcomic Hyperbole and a Half. Brosh started Hyperbole in 2009 and told stories from her life in a mix of text and intentionally crude illustrations. She has published two books telling stories in the same style, both of which have been New York Times bestsellers. Brosh lives with severe depression and ADHD, and her comics on depression have won praise from fans and mental health professionals.

Another book on my tbr that I just haven’t gotten around to but really want to.

9. The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

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What if you aren’t the Chosen One? The one who’s supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just must find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions...

Patrick Ness, an award-winning novelist, has written for England’s Radio 4 and Sunday Telegraph and is a literary critic for The Guardian. He has written many books, including the Chaos Walking Trilogy, The Crash of Hennington, Topics About Which I Know Nothing, and A Monster Calls. He has won numerous awards, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize, the Booktrust Teenage Prize, and the Costa Children’s Book Award. Born in Virginia, he currently lives in London.

Patrick Ness has written about OCD and anxiety in at least two of his books, inspired by his own experiences with the two disorders and how it affects him (The Rest of Us Just Live Here & Release)

10. Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire

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Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children No Solicitations No Visitors No Quests Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world. But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter. No matter the cost.

Seanan lives in an idiosyncratically designed labyrinth in the Pacific Northwest, which she shares with her cats, Alice and Thomas, a vast collection of creepy dolls and horror movies, and sufficient books to qualify her as a fire hazard. She has strongly held and oft-expressed beliefs about the origins of the Black Death, the X-Men, and the need for chainsaws in daily life.

Years of writing blurbs for convention program books have fixed Seanan in the habit of writing all her bios in the third person, to sound marginally less dorky. Stress is on the "marginally." It probably doesn't help that she has so many hobbies.

Seanan was the winner of the 2010 John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and her novel Feed (as Mira Grant) was named as one of Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2010. In 2013 she became the first person ever to appear five times on the same Hugo Ballot.

Seanan McGuire has an invisible disability due to herniated disks in her spine. She is slowly coming to terms with this, and talks about it occasionally on her twitter, and about the struggles she faces.

I loved this book, and so did my best friend. We both read it in one sitting and talked nonstop about it afterwards. Although short, its filled with amazing characters, plot, and representation (asexual character!!)

11. Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honour they could hope for...and the most demeaning. This year, there's a ninth. And instead 📷of paper, she's made of fire. In this richly developed fantasy, Lei is a member of the Paper caste, the lowest and most persecuted class of people in Ikhara. She lives in a remote village with her father, where the decade-old trauma of watching her mother snatched by royal guards for an unknown fate still haunts her. Now, the guards are back and this time it's Lei they're after -- the girl with the golden eyes whose rumoured beauty has piqued the king's interest. Over weeks of training in the opulent but oppressive palace, Lei and eight other girls learns the skills and charm that befit a king's consort. There, she does the unthinkable -- she falls in love. Her forbidden romance becomes enmeshed with an explosive plot that threatens her world's entire way of life. Lei, still the wide-eyed country girl at heart, must decide how far she's willing to go for justice and revenge.

Natasha Ngan is a writer and yoga teacher. She grew up between Malaysia, where the Chinese side of her family is from, and the UK. This multicultural upbringing continues to influence her writing, and she is passionate about bringing diverse stories to teens. Ngan studied Geography at the University of Cambridge before working as a social media consultant and fashion blogger. She lives in France with her partner, where they recently moved from Paris to be closer to the sea. Her novel Girls of Paper and Fire was a New York Times bestseller. Natasha has a heart condition, and talks about her struggles with her health, and gives updates on her health and her books on twitter.

I’ve heard a lot about this book, but for trigger warning reasons it sadly isn’t on my to be read list. Everything I’ve heard about it says its an amazing book though, and the cover is beautiful.

12. Queens of Geek by Jen Wilde

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Three friends, two love stories, one convention: this fun, feminist love letter to geek culture is all about fandom, friendship, and finding the courage to be yourself. Charlie likes to stand out. She’s a vlogger and actress promoting her first movie at SupaCon, and this is her chance to show fans she’s over her public breakup with co-star Reese Ryan. When internet-famous cool-girl actress Alyssa Huntington arrives as a surprise guest, it seems Charlie’s long-time crush on her isn’t as one-sided as she thought. Taylor likes to blend in. Her brain is wired differently, making her fear change. And there’s one thing in her life she knows will never change: her friendship with her best guy friend Jamie—no matter how much she may secretly want it to. But when she hears about a fan contest for her favourite fandom, she starts to rethink her rules on playing it safe.

Jen Wilde is the YA author of QUEENS OF GEEK, THE BRIGHTSIDERS and GOING OFF SCRIPT. She writes unapologetically queer stories about geeks, rockstars, and fangirls who smash the patriarchy in their own unique ways. Her books have been praised in Teen Vogue, Buzzfeed, Autostraddle, Vulture and Bustle. Originally from Australia, Jen now lives in NYC where she spends her time writing, drinking too much coffee and binging reality TV.

Researching for this collab was the first time this book popped up on my radar as something I might be interested in reading. Jen Wilde, the author, is herself autistic and suffers from anxiety, which gives the narrative “authenticity that is lacking in similar books” according to socialjusticebooks.org.

13. The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

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Seventeen-year-old Molly Peskin-Suso knows all about unrequited love—she’s lived through it twenty-six times. She crushes hard and crushes often, but always in secret. Because no matter how many times her twin sister, Cassie, tells her to woman up, Molly can’t stomach the idea of rejection. So, she’s careful. Fat girls always have to be careful. Then a cute new girl enters Cassie’s orbit, and for the first time ever, Molly’s cynical twin is a lovesick mess. Meanwhile, Molly’s totally not dying of loneliness—except for the part where she is. Luckily, Cassie’s new girlfriend comes with a cute hipster-boy sidekick. Will is funny and flirtatious and just might be perfect crush material. Maybe more than crush material. And if Molly can win him over, she’ll get her first kiss and she’ll get her twin back. There’s only one problem: Molly’s co-worker Reid. He’s an awkward Tolkien superfan with a season pass to the Ren Faire, and there’s absolutely no way Molly could fall for him. Right?

Becky Albertalli is the author of the acclaimed novels Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (film: Love, Simon), The Upside of Unrequited, and Leah on the Offbeat. She is also the co-author of What If It's Us with Adam Silvera. A former clinical psychologist who specialized in working with children and teens, Becky lives with her family in Atlanta.

Becky Albertalli has generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), and has spoken about it in several interviews, which you can find online. She has also written several characters in her books who also suffer with anxiety. Her first book, Simon vs the Homosapien’s Agenda (or Love, Simon), is the only book of hers that I have read so far, and I loved it. It was the first contemporary book that I read and actually enjoyed.

14. Carve the Mark by Veronica Roth

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Cyra is the sister of the brutal tyrant who rules the Shotet people. Cyra’s current gift gives her pain and power—something her brother exploits, using her to torture his enemies. But Cyra is much more than just a blade in her brother’s hand: she is resilient, quick on her feet, and smarter than he knows. Akos is the son of a farmer and an oracle from the frozen nation-planet of Thuvhe. Protected by his unusual currentgift, Akos is generous in spirit, and his loyalty to his family is limitless. Once Akos and his brother are captured by enemy Shotet soldiers, Akos is desperate to get his brother out alive—no matter what the cost. Then Akos is thrust into Cyra's world, and the enmity between their countries and families seems insurmountable. Will they help each other to survive, or will they destroy one another?

Veronica Roth is the #1 New York Times best-selling author of the Divergent series (Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant, and Four: A Divergent Collection), the Carve the Mark duology (Carve the Mark, the Fates Divide), The End and Other Beginnings collection of short fiction, and many short stories and essays. Her first book for adult audiences, Chosen Ones, is out now. She lives in Chicago.

Veronica Roth suffers from anxiety, like a lot of the authors on this list, and talks about it in interviews. A quote from one: "I've had an anxiety disorder my whole life, so I've been to therapy on and off throughout, before books and after books. I went back and tried to talk through some of the things I was feeling and experiencing, and it was helpful."

I’ve never read any of her books, not even the hugely famous Divergent trilogy, though they’ve been on my radar for years. I’d love to get into her books at some point, but it might take me a few years.

15. How to be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe

📷An urgent, funny, shocking, and impassioned memoir by the winner of the Spectrum Art Prize 2018, How To Be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe presents the rarely shown point of view of someone living with autism. Poe’s voice is confident, moving and often funny, as they reveal to us a very personal account of autism, mental illness, gender and sexual identity. As we follow Charlotte’s journey through school and college, we become as awestruck by their extraordinary passion for life as by the enormous privations that they must undergo to live it. From food and fandom to body modification and comic conventions, Charlotte’s experiences through the torments of schooldays and young adulthood leave us with a riot of conflicting emotions: horror, empathy, despair, laugh-out-loud amusement and, most of all, respect. For Charlotte, autism is a fundamental aspect of their identity and art. They address the reader in a voice that is direct, sharply clever and ironic. They witness their own behaviour with a wry humour as they sympathise with those who care for them, yet all the while challenging the neurotypical narratives of autism as something to be ‘fixed’. This is an exuberant, inspiring, life-changing insight into autism from a viewpoint almost entirely missing from public discussion. ‘I wanted to show the side of autism that you don’t find in books and on Facebook. My story is about survival, fear and, finally, hope. There will be parts that make you want to cover your eyes, but I beg you to read on, because if I can change just one person’s perceptions, if I can help one person with autism feel like they’re less alone, then this will all be worth it.’ Charlotte Amelia Poe is a self-taught artist and writer living in Lowestoft, Suffolk. They also work with video and won the inaugural Spectrum Art Prize with the film they submitted, 'How to Be Autistic’. Myriad published Charlotte's memoir, How to Be Autistic, in September 2019.

Another book I didn’t know about until researching for this post, but I really want to read it because I haven’t read many books about autism, and practically none of them were actually written by someone who actually is autistic. Charlotte uses they/them pronouns.

16. Ask me about my Uterus by Abby Norman

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For any woman who has experienced illness, chronic pain, or endometriosis comes an inspiring memoir advocating for recognition of women's health issues In the fall of 2010, Abby Norman's strong dancer's body dropped forty pounds and grey hairs began to sprout from her temples. She was repeatedly hospitalized in excruciating pain, but the doctors insisted it was a urinary tract infection and sent her home with antibiotics. Unable to get out of bed, much less attend class, Norman dropped out of college and embarked on what would become a years-long journey to discover what was wrong with her. It wasn't until she took matters into her own hands--securing a job in a hospital and educating herself over lunchtime reading in the medical library--that she found an accurate diagnosis of endometriosis. In Ask Me About My Uterus, Norman describes what it was like to have her pain dismissed, to be told it was all in her head, only to be taken seriously when she was accompanied by a boyfriend who confirmed that her sexual performance was, indeed, compromised. Putting her own trials into a broader historical, sociocultural, and political context, Norman shows that women's bodies have long been the battleground of a never-ending war for power, control, medical knowledge, and truth. It's time to refute the belief that being a woman is a pre-existing condition.

Abby Norman’s debut book, ASK ME ABOUT MY UTERUS: A Quest to Make Doctors Believe in Women’s Pain, was published by Bold Type Books (Hachette Book Group) in 2018, with advance praise from Gillian Anderson, Lindsey Fitzharris, Jenny Lawson, and Padma Lakshmi.

The book was praised by The New York Times Book Review, The Wall Street Journal, New York Magazine, The Washington Post, The Sunday Times, The Irish Times, Literary Review, The Times Literary Supplement, The New Republic, Book Riot, Toronto Star, ELLE, Health Magazine, Undark Magazine, BUST Magazine, Bitch Magazine, Ms. Magazine, BBC Radio 5, and other international media outlets.

In 2019, the paperback edition was published in the U.S. and the Korean translation in Seoul (Momento Publishing/Duran Kim Agency).

Her work has been featured in Harper’s, Medium, The Independent, Literary Hub, The Rumpus, Mental Floss, Atlas Obscura, and elsewhere. Interviews and profiles have been seen and heard, including NPR/WNYC, BBC, Anchor.fm, The New York Times, Playboy, Forbes, Glamour, Women’s Health, and Bitch Magazine.

Abby Norman suffers from endometriosis, which was a large part of why she wrote her book, and why she advocates so hard for fellow patients at conferences such as Stanford University’s Stanford Medicine X and the Endometriosis Foundation of America’s medical conference and Patient Day. She is

Abby has served on technical expert panels including the National Partnership for Women and Families’ CORE Network (Yale University), the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), the Centres for Medicare and Medicaid, The Society for Women’s Health Research (SWHR), and Health Affairs.

In 2019, Abby contributed to a paper addressing research gaps and unmet needs in endometriosis published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

This book is definitely one I will be adding to my to be read list, as someone who (unfortunately) also has a uterus, it is important to be informed. And Abby sounds like such a badass who wrote a whole book about her chronic illness to help others with the same condition.

17. Stim: Autistic Anthology by Lizzie Huxley-Jones

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Around one in one hundred people in the UK are autistic, yet there remains a fundamental misunderstanding of what autism is. It is rare that autistic people get to share their own experiences, show how creative and talented and passionate they are, how different they are from media stereotypes. This insightful and eye-opening collection of essays, fiction and visual art showcases the immense talents of some of the UK's most exciting writers and artists - who just happen to be on the spectrum. Here they reclaim the power to speak for themselves and redefine what it means to be autistic. Stim invites the reader into the lives, experiences, minds of the eighteen contributors, and asks them to recognise the hurdles of being autistic in a non-autistic world and to uncover the empathy and understanding necessary to continue to champion brilliant yet unheard voices.

Lizzie (Hux) Huxley-Jones is an autistic author and editor based in London. They are the editor of Stim, an anthology of autistic authors and artists, which was published by Unbound in April 2020 to coincide with World Autism Awareness Week. They are also the author of the children’s biography Sir David Attenborough: A Life Story. They can be found editing at independent micropublisher 3 of Cups Press, and they also advise writers as a freelance sensitivity reader and consultant. In their past career lives, they have been a research diver, a children’s bookseller and digital communications specialist.

I wasn’t even aware that there was an anthology out there by an autistic author, about autism, but now that I do I need to read it.

18. Chimera by Jaecyn Bonê

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Creatures unlike you've imagined before! Welcome to a world where myths and legends collide to create a new breed of monster. Savage and soulful, these monstrosities combine to form the mighty Chimera. In this anthology, talented writers weave 10 tales of fantastical beasts. Featuring stories by: Matt Bliss Jaecyn Boné Alexis L. Carroll Chris Durston Dewi Hargreaves Stephen Howard Samuel Logan Vincent Metzo Braden Rohl Michelle Tang

Jaecyn is a queer, non-binary, disabled Asian-American writer and digital artist fascinated by faeries.

Most of their writing involves wlw romance and faery-inspired creatures. Their first novel, Farzana's Spite is a 10-year-old work in progress and the first novel in The Faerth series. Other works include The Killing Song (novel) and Colour Unknown (short), both of which are also part of the Faerth universe.

Jaecyn's art can be described as a neorealistic pop art style with cel shading. They began their digital art journey with a 5-year-old refurbished iPad using their finger as a stylus and immediately fell in love. They do digital download commissions as well as sell prints of their artwork.

Jaecyn is the Co-Editor in Chief of the Limeoncello Magazine, an online Own Voices literary magazine which debuted its first issue on March 21st, 2021.

When not writing, drawing, or chasing after their two children, they can be found either gardening or practicing their ukulele.

None of Jaecyn Boné’s books are published yet as they are still in the stage of querying, but they contributed to the above anthology, along with nine other authors. I had no idea that this anthology existed, and now I’ll be closely following this author to see when their books get published!

19. Forest of Souls by Lori M Lee

Sirscha Ashwyn comes from nothing, but she’s intent on becoming something. After years of training to become the queen’s next royal spy, her plans are derailed when shamans attack 📷and kill her best friend Saengo. And then Sirscha, somehow, restores Saengo to life. Unveiled as the first soul guide in living memory, Sirscha is summoned to the domain of the Spider King. For centuries, he has used his influence over the Dead Wood—an ancient forest possessed by souls—to enforce peace between the kingdoms. Now, with the trees growing wild and untamed, only a soul guide can restrain them. As war looms, Sirscha must master her newly awakened abilities before the trees shatter the brittle peace, or worse, claim Saengo, the friend she would die for.

Lori M. Lee is the author of speculative novels and short stories. Her books include PAHUA AND THE SOUL STEALER (Disney/Rick Riordan Presents), FOREST OF SOULS and the sequel BROKEN WEB (Page Street), and more. She’s also a contributor to the anthologies A THOUSAND BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS and COLOR OUTSIDE THE LINES. She considers herself a unicorn fan, enjoys marathoning TV shows, and loves to write about magic, manipulation, and family.

Lori struggles with anxiety, and the common symptoms like fatigue but she doesn’t let this stop her writing amazing books. I read Forest of Souls earlier this year, and it was seriously one of the best books I’ve ever read. I loved the magic, the characters, the world building. Everything about it, including the plot twist ending that had me losing my mind at 2am, was just so unlike anything I had read in any other fantasy before.

20. A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A Brown

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For Malik, the Solstasia festival is a chance to escape his war-stricken home and start a new life with his sisters in the prosperous desert city of Ziran. But when a vengeful spirit abducts Malik’s younger sister, Nadia, as payment into the city, Malik strikes a fatal deal—kill Karina, Crown Princess of Ziran, for Nadia’s freedom. But Karina has deadly aspirations of her own. Her mother, the Sultana, has been assassinated; her court threatens mutiny; and Solstasia looms like a knife over her neck. Grief-stricken, Karina decides to resurrect her mother through ancient magic . . . requiring the beating heart of a king. And she knows just how to obtain one: by offering her hand in marriage to the victor of the Solstasia competition. When Malik rigs his way into the contest, they are set on a course to destroy each other. But as attraction flares between them and ancient evils stir, will they be able to see their tasks to the death?

Roseanne “Rosie” A. Brown was born in Kumasi, Ghana and immigrated to the wild jungles of central Maryland as a child. Writing was her first love, and she knew from a young age that she wanted to use the power of writing—creative and otherwise—to connect the different cultures she called home. She graduated from the University of Maryland with a Bachelor’s in Journalism and was also a teaching assistant for the school’s Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House program. Her journalistic work has been featured by Voice of America among other outlets.

On the publishing side of things, she has worked as an editorial intern at Entangled Publishing. Rosie was a 2017 Pitch Wars mentee and 2018 Pitch Wars mentor. Rosie currently lives outside Washington D.C., where in her free time she can usually be found wandering the woods, making memes, or thinking about Star Wars.

Roseanne is another author that struggles with anxiety and wrote one of her two main characters with generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), despite it being a fantasy. I don’t even think I can name a fantasy that had a character with anxiety represented so well. This was a book I read around the same time as Forest of Souls, and I loved it. The cover was beautiful, the characters were brilliant, and I just loved the world building, the magic, and the plot. It was just different to the usual fantasy books I read, and I enjoyed the variation so much I’ve had the sequel pre ordered almost a year in advance.

So, this was my 20 books by 20 chronically ill, disabled or neurodiverse authors list. Blurbs and synopsis were compiled between Goodreads and author websites, and bios were found either on Goodreads, author websites or on amazon author pages. All the information about their chronic illnesses, disabilities or neurodivergence was found online, where they had either explicitly said it or written about it, but if I have something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!

If you have any other suggestions or know any other books and authors that should be on this list, please let me know and I’ll do my best to add it to the list as soon as possible.

Thanks for reading 😊

#bookblr #reviews #recs #books

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mfingenius · 5 years

Text

Roadtrip AU

“Damianos, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Nikandros deadpans.

“You said that about Jokaste,” Damen observes mildly.

“Remind me how that turned out?” Nik asks, unimpressed, with a raised eyebrow.

Jokaste cheated on Damen with his brother.

Maybe he shouldn’t have used that example.

“Look, this is not a bad idea.” Damen says, lifting his suitcase to put in the trunk of his car. “I’m... helping someone.”

“You don’t know him from anything. All you know is that he said he needs to get to his brother’s house. You don’t even know if that’s true” Nik says. “He could be a murderer.”

Damen looks at him, disbelievingly. “Have you seen him? He’s tiny.”

“I’m not tiny.” The petulant, condescending voice says, and Damen looks back at his road trip companion. Laurent – or so he said his name was – is small, pretty, blonde, and exactly Damen’s type. He’s also anxious, and jumpy, and something about the way he’d asked made

Damen say yes when he’d asked him to get him to Delpha. “You’re just a giant animal.”

Nikandros thinks Damen is thinking with his cock and is hoping to fuck Laurent somewhere on their way to Delpha, but, for once, Damen has no interest in fucking a blonde; not because Laurent isn’t attractive – because he is, so fucking attractive that Damen wants to cry – but because he doesn’t think that Laurent – small, narrow, helpless Laurent – would ask him for help – a man easily three times as wide as him and several heads taller – if he had another choice available.

He’ll get him to Delpha, whatever it is that happens.

“Right,” Damen says. Nikandros shoots him a look like he wants to murder Laurent. He might. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Laurent says, shifting quietly.

That’s something else that makes Damen think that Laurent needs help; he has no luggage with him. He has no clothes, no money, no personal belongings. He’s dressed well – in fine, elegant clothes, covering most of his skin – which means that he’s most likely not poor, but Damen can’t figure out why he wouldn’t have anything with him if he weren’t.

“Alright,” Damen shuts the trunk. “Let’s go.”

“Text me when you get to Delpha,” Nikandros says, eyeing Laurent warily. “To let me know you’re not dead.”

Laurent flips him off, and Nikandros makes a crude gesture in response. Him and Damen both watch as Laurent’s shiny blonde hair disappears into the car.

Laurent isn’t exactly a friendly person, but Damen has never met anyone he can’t make friends with; he’s sociable in that way, generally optimistic and friendly in a way that always makes people like him. He’s sure it’ll be the same with Laurent.

“I’ll see you,” Damen says, hugging his best friend briefly. Nik claps his back and hugs back for a moment, before they part and Damen gets into the car.

The first twenty minutes of driving are spent in painful silence.

“Music?” he asks, finally, reaching to turn on the radio.

“No.” Laurent says.

Damen drops his hand, eyeing Laurent warily. Right, he thinks. This might be more difficult than expected.

“Why are you headed to Delpha?” Damen asks, during one of their food stops. He bought Laurent a chocolate bar because he doesn’t think the blond has money, and he’s thin enough that Damen’s mother would be shoving food into his face the second he stepped through the door.

“My brother is there,” Laurent says stiffly. He’s looking down at the chocolate bar warily, like it might bite him, and Damen doesn’t push him to eat it; they don’t know each other, and Laurent doesn’t trust him. “I told you.”

Damen nods. He's eating a cheeseburger – he offered to buy one for Laurent, but Laurent refused, and Damen didn’t want to appear too pushy – and fries, and he eats in silence for a while before he hears a wrapper being opened.

He smiles discreetly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Laurent takes a tiny bite of the chocolate. Damen doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s eaten, but his entire face relaxes at the taste of food.

“And you?” Laurent asks. The question sounds awkward and forced, but at least he’s trying, so Damen pretends not to hear it.

“My brother is getting married.” Damen tells him.

“Are you best man?” Laurent asks, after a bit.

“No,” Damen says. “We don’t have the best relationship anymore.”

Laurent doesn’t ask why, and they spend the rest of the meal in silence.

After they’re back in the car, Laurent allows him to turn on the radio. Damen nearly sings in relief when a song begins playing. The silence was suffocating, and all attempts of conversation seemed to be useless.

In the morning, Damen wakes up with Laurent watching him; they’re staying in a hotel room Damen payed for. Damen had taken the couch, and though Laurent is usually awake before Damen is, Damen’s never found him just sitting there, staring at him.

“You haven’t asked me to have sex with you.” Laurent says bluntly.

Damen’s brain takes a minute to react.

“I don’t expect sex from you.” Damen says honestly, frowning.

Laurent watches him for two full minutes before he speaks.

“You’re telling the truth.” He seems bewildered.

“Laurent, I don’t know how old you are, but I don’t even think you’re eighteen.” Damen says. “And when I agreed to take you to Delpha, I agreed to get you there without anything happening to you.”

“I’m seventeen.” Laurent says. He seems surprised at himself that he’s said it. He continues carefully, as if tasting the words in his mouth before saying them. “You’re not much older than me though. And I told you I couldn’t pay you. Why else would you let me come along?”

He’s right, Damen’s not much older. He's only eighteen, and though it wouldn’t be immoral because of his age, it would be immoral because of multiple other reasons, included but not limited to the fact that Laurent doesn’t want to have sex with him; he only thinks he needs to do it so Damen won’t leave him stranded somewhere, and that’s not consent.

“I’m on my way to Ios.” Damen shrugs. He’d only been in Arles because Jokaste’s veil hadn’t been sent out, and Damen had been appointed to pick it up from the store in Arles. Nik, although not invited to the wedding, had accompanied him, since he’d been bored to death with their summer Vacation. “I have to pass by Delpha. It’s no trouble leaving you there.”

“You bought me food.” Laurent accuses. “You let me sleep in the bed.”

“You don’t have any money.” Damen says. “Arles to Delpha is a three day trip. You can’t go three days without eating.”

“I can.” Laurent says. He sounds certain of it, and Damen doesn’t want to know if that’s because he has.

“Well, you’re not going to.” He says resolutely. He stands and stretches. “Do you want the shower first, or can I?”

Laurent gestures for him to go ahead, and Damen walks to the bathroom.

“I am trying to get to my brother.” Laurent says. Damen is surprised by his voice, and by the fact that he just initiated conversation. He merely nods, in fear of saying something that will scare Laurent into permanent silence again. Laurent’s wringing his hands in his lap, and Damen looks at them for a moment before looking back at the road. They’re still on the second day of their trip, and it’s still early morning. He's getting hungry by now, mostly because he’s always hungry; he can stand it for a few more hours, though. “I’m - he’s studying medicine. In Delpha.”

“That’s impressive.” Damen says. Delpha’s Med School is one of the toughest programs to get into, he knows, and not just anyone accomplishes it.

Laurent nods slightly. “I - was living with my uncle. He’s - not nice. I couldn’t stay with him any longer.”

Damen’s sight zeroes in on the bruises at Laurent’s wrists, on his neck. His clothes are arranged differently than the day before, which makes the marks visible, and Damen doesn’t think it’s an accident. Laurent didn’t think he’d believe him, so he provided proof.

“And your brother left you there?” Damen asks, furious. He doesn’t get along with Kastor, but he likes to think that, were he in trouble, Kastor would behave like a proper older brother.

Laurent seems surprised at the emotion in his voice. “No. He doesn’t know. He – our parents died the summer before he began. He was eighteen, and I was six. He wasn’t going to go to college to take care of me but – Uncle and I convinced him to go, told him he’d take care of me and that Auguste could visit whenever he wanted. He’s still doing residency there, and we speak on the phone often, but I – never told him. Anything.”

Damen is quiet for a while, and Laurent seems to give himself a final push to finish his probably carefully-prepared monologue.

“I’m only telling you this because you’ve been very helpful.” He says. “And I don’t want you to think I'm not grateful.”

“I’m glad you’re getting away,” Damen says, honestly. “And if your uncle ever gives you trouble again, you can call me.”

Laurent gives him a rare, tense smile. “I don’t think you could do much. He's a very powerful man, with a lot of money.”

Damen smiles guiltily. “I rather doubt he’s more powerful than me.”

“What are you, then?” Laurent looks at him curiously. “A king?”

Damen snorts. “Just filthy rich. With a lot of political connections.”

“I think it’d be interesting to see how he’d react to you.” He says, seemingly deep in thought. “He doesn’t like people who aren’t easily intimidated or bought.”

“Well, I'm neither.” Damen says. “So you can count on me for help, anytime.”

Laurent hums.

“She was my fiancée.” Damen blurts, a long time later. He wants to show Laurent that he appreciated his honesty with honesty of his own.

“What?” Laurent asks.

“The woman my brother is marrying.” Damen says, realizing he wasn’t very clear. “She was my fiancée, and she cheated on me with him.”

Laurent looks at him with disgust clear on his face. “Why are you going to their wedding? That's a crappy fiancée, and a very crappy brother.”

“Yeah.” Damen says after a pause. “I don’t know. I guess I just – everyone expects me to be there. They think it doesn’t bother me anymore, and – well, it doesn’t. It’s still... weird, though. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it could ever not be weird.” Laurent says. There's a moment of silence, and then, “Have either of them apologized?”

“No,” Damen says. “I didn’t talk to them for a while, and after that everyone sort of pretended nothing had happened.”

“Fuck, that’s shit.” Laurent says. The curse words sound odd in his mouth, out of place. Still, Damen has to agree with the sentiment. “I vote you ditch the wedding.”

“I’m supposed to get her veil there.” Damen tells him, and Laurent blinks at him disbelievingly.

“They asked you to get her veil?” He demands, and the irritation in his voice is both funny and somewhat touching.

“Yeah.” Damen says.

“Dump them both.” Laurent says.

Damen laughs.

It’s a lot easier to get closer to Laurent after that particular conversation. They spend a lot of time talking, and Damen finds himself thoroughly invested in everything Laurent says. He's enthralling.

Which is why, when they finally get to Delpha – and, more specifically, to Laurent’s brother’s apartment – he doesn’t know what to say.

“Here’s my phone number.” he says, extending a slip of paper with his number on it. “In case your uncle gives you trouble again. Or you can’t find your brother. Or anything really. Or – even if nothing happens, you could-”

Laurent kisses his cheek, effectively silencing him.

“Thank you, Damianos.” he says, fondly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think your brother deserves you.”

“I don’t think anyone deserves you,” Damen says vehemently, a little too honest.

Laurent laughs and Damen falls a little bit in love with the way it makes his eyes sparkle.

“Auguste does.” Laurent assures him. He bites on his lower lip, and then says, “You could... stay, if you wanted.”

“What?” Damen asks.

“You don’t have to go to the wedding,” Laurent says. “And I – would like it - I would – you have done – a lot for me, and I could – you could stay here, for a while.”

Damen thinks that that’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

“I - Alright,” he says, nodding dumbly.

He texts Nikandros that he’s not going to the wedding, and spends the rest of the afternoon watching movies with Laurent and his brother – who seems confused as to why his little brother is there and why he is with an Akielon, though he doesn’t mention it – and ignoring Jokaste’s and Kastor’s calls. It's the best time he’s had in a long time.

--------------------------------------------------------

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endymionstudies · 4 years

Note

ive always wanted to go to an hbcu!! howard is one of my dream schools :D what's the social environment like? how does being at an hbcu affect your courses, especially your social science courses? just thoughts in general abt your time there

hey!!! so i literally spent like an hour replying to this and reorganizing how i did it bc i had SO MUCH TO SAY and i kept jumping around and it was crazy. but here’s your answer finally :D

SOME NOTES:

so howard is very different from xavier! if you have any specific questions about howard, you can send those my way still because my cousin goes there and i can pass them along.

i would like to preface my answer with this: xavier is a small, low endowment school. we are the only roman catholic hbcu, and this is very, very central to us. i’m also white passing, and grew up in a very mixed area (mostly white + asian), so my living experience prior to college was very different from that of my peers, and still is. so this is my own experience, but many of my friends have very different outlooks; college is a extremely individualized experience. no two people are the same!

i also tried to keep this general, in case you were applying or looking at other hbcu’s as well, but definitely added specific howard vs xavier things to give the idea of what a small school is offering

also i talk about stats some so here’s the basic ones: Endowment: → howard is 692.8mil → xavier is 171mil

Undergrad Enrollment: → howard is around 6.2k → xavier is around 2.2k

SOCIAL LIFE / CULTURE:

the thing about hbcu’s is that they are not diverse. so if you come from a heavily diverse area, you are going to have a little bit of culture shock. this isnt something that i really expected, because i never thought about the fact that an hbcu is homogenous, whereas a lot of pwi’s are actually p culturally diverse. if thats not any issues for you then its not a problem! but its a thing, because everyone is very like-minded, and of similar backgrounds, so when youre not, you stand out. my cousin came from a similar background as me (more comfortable/wealthier than her peers, heavily diverse neighborhood, LA private school) and had the exact same problem of not being accepted for not have an “authentic” black life or whatever that means. so there is a very heavily prevalent idea that unless you grew up in one exact way, you’re not “black enough”, so like,,, just be mindful that this is a Thing and that people are surprisingly judgemental about it

each hbcu has a much more insular culture than ive really seen or heard to be at pwi’s, ESPECIALLY if you go greek. theyre extremely close knit, and i know that they are extremely involved and dedicated to each other and to the sorority/fraternity even after they’ve graduated. each school is very distinct, so you have to really get to know and get immersed in the culture. at xavier, we do a lot of music events on campus, because we dont have a big sports culture, and greek life is pretty low key. there are parties, but it’s all house parties off campus bc we’re strictly dry. there are things that are specific to xavier, that you find find or understand if you go somewhere else. everyone is very close knit, and if you go somewhere small, you will know everyone and everyone will know you. so just make sure you know and like the environment and locality that your school is in.

social activism is huge here. some people are light on it, some people are borderline militant. we’re activists by mission, so that definitely has an impact on the kind of people that are drawn here. make sure to really look into your schools mission and what they stand for, because you’ll find a lot of students are like minded to it. i can only assume howard is similar because of its DC location, so be ready for access to lots of protests and heavy government interest.

COURSES:

the religious mission is very important to the school, and so we have required theology courses and service hours to graduate. in terms of social science, for me, we are rather limited. most of our funding goes to science, because we’re a science focused school. we’re known for our pharmacy program, and bio/chem pre-med. if your school only has a few masters/doctorate programs, and they’re all in one field, that’s the section that will get the most funding. howard’s endowment is massive compared to ours, so this will probably not be as glaring.

in regards to hbcu-specific courses, there’s naturally a huge focus on black studies and all of its sub-studies. like black theology/philosophy, history, literature, etc etc. this of course means that if you have an interest thats outside of solely a black focused area, then youre probably not going to find as much. our history department really only does black history in america & the world, so they dont offer classes on larger areas, like greco-roman hist, asian hist, etc. if you have interest in a wider range of studies, but still want to go to an hbcu, i would suggest looking into whether or not your school has a consortium with nearby schools. xavier has one w tulane, so i take german class there bc its not offered for me. i think howard has one with american, so you’d be eligible to take some of their courses, which gives you more access to specialties of interest.

OTHER THINGS:

if you havent, when quarantine is over, i would suggest trying to visit howard and really get a feel for it. its in the middle of DC which is amazing, but the area is very heavily gentrified, and i know that the students are having a lot of issues with the local residents because of this.

also, make sure to research not just the courses, but the culture. i got told culture didnt matter and that was a fat ass lie. this is how youre living for the next 4 years, and you cant study 24/7. so make sure you will actually enjoy your college years somehow. look at rate my school, look for facebook groups of applied/accepted students, look online for blogs or youtubers who talk candidly about their experiences. talking to current students is the single best way to get a feel for the university, because they can tell you what really goes on, not what the brochures show you.

i hope this helps some!!! if you have any more questions just send them my way, and if i can’t answer them myself i’ll find someone who can :D

#hbcu #isa gives advice #also the judgement about not being 'black enough' is REAL and weird #i grew up in maryland and we're not rich or anything we're comfortable but that means that im bougie compared to my classmates #who grew up low/middle income in like texas where the cost of living is like half of what it is where i am #its kinda weird but it makes sense bc a lot of the people grew up the same way so if you didnt ur on the outside and 'dont belong'#which gets turned into not being black enough bc you 'grew up white'#i have Thoughts on this but thats for another time #websies

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themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

Text

Gone - Part One

Castiel Novak’s obsession with dead things started when he was just six years old. His neighbors had this cat that the kids, fondly, called Lumpy. Her real name was something complicated, some four syllable name that was after someone that they’d never heard of, so to them she was just Lumpy. She bumbled around the neighborhood meowing at everything with a blatant disapproval that is unique to cats.

His father was a writer, constantly locked in his study, so Castiel spent most of his time wandering around. During the late autumn months, he sat on his porch crudely carving his Jack-O-Lantern with no supervision. He planned to carve a simple smile on the front of it with wide round eyes and a big open mouth.

He was focusing intensely when the familiar yowl of Lumpy danced through the chilled air. “Come here, Lumpy, you ugly cat,” he called out, not thinking too much about it as his eyes still focused on his blade sawing through the flesh on the pumpkin. He pursed his lips, making a kissing noise, wondering what was taking the fat cat so long. Usually she would be at his calf, rubbing and begging for pumpkin pieces by then.

Castiel looked up, his attention sparked just as the wet angry screech of car breaks broke through the afternoon air. The driver was gone before he could even run into the street. He stuck his hands under Lumpy, peeling her sticky, blood soiled body off of the asphalt. Her head lulled, her lifeless eyes open and accusing.

He knew he had to help her, so he tucked her against his chest, matted wet fur sticking to his cotton t-shirt. He took her to his porch and laid her out. In the mind of a child, he needed to fix the pieces that were broken on her, and then she would wake up. So he took out his carving blade, pulling it from his pumpkin and began carving out the pieces of rock. He shaved away the pieces of skin that were worn away from the tire tread. “It’s okay Lumpy, I’ll save you,” he murmured to her sweetly, like she was merely sleeping.

Castiel plucked at her broken, flattened ribs with slick, trembling fingers. Perhaps if he reconnected all of her pieces she would begin to meow and purr just as he knew her. It was only once his father stepped out onto the porch with his reading glasses perched on his nose, and his pen fell from between his lips and bounced off the leather tie on his house shoe, that Castiel realized that he was gravely mistaken.

“Castiel what have you done?”

“I’m trying to fix her,” he pleaded, staring up at his father as congealing, dead blood rolled down his forearms to his elbows, “I have to fix her.”

His father was rightly horrified and Castiel went to a child therapist for five years. He hadn’t been enthralled with death before his at length discussions with his therapist. He just wanted to help her, but she wasn’t so convinced. She thought that he found a thrill from the blade, from the slicing skin, from the pearl white bone against crimson red blood. He didn’t find thrill in it. At least he didn’t when he’d been trying to help Lumpy, the thrill came much later when his therapist unbuttoned her top and breathed whiskey onto his neck. He bit into her throat drawing blood, requiring six complex stitches, but Castiel never had to see her again.

He was an exceptional student, and he was fascinated by biology. He loved to take apart technology and put it back together, and the idea that it could be done with people was fascinating. He could heal someone, fix them. It didn’t take long for him to decide that he wanted to be a surgeon. He never went on dates, even though he was easily one of the best looking guys at his school. He graduated at the top of his class as the weird loner who wore the same three t-shirts every week. He couldn’t bother to care about fashion, romance, or anything that would distract him from getting into the best pre-med program in the states. It was no surprise to anyone that knew him that he got into both Harvard Med and the best residency program. His bedside manner was poor at best, he was awkward, and he didn’t understand much about social queues, usually missing the beat, but he was a damn good surgeon. Was being the operative word.

The tape whirred inside of Castiel Novak’s recorder. “September 21st, examination of Jacob Stevenson.”

There was something in the air the night that everything changed. It was a full moon, and maybe that’s why the leaves were blowing, crackling against windows like a hard autumn rain. Castiel felt a chill as he walked out of his stale, one bedroom apartment, but he didn’t turn back for another layer to trap in the warmth. He’d rather be cold, sometimes a feeling was better than feeling nothing at all, even if it was unpleasant.

He was used to being cold, it was part of the job. Most medical examiners he met were clad in turtlenecks up to their chins, thick layers, and a pale disposition as if they’d never seen the sun. He blended in with them, just another faceless shape in a crowd. He wasn’t always that way, though. Despite his horrid bedside manner, he was described as bright by those who met him. His skin glowed with the fresh tan of a man who played a lot of golf or read medical textbooks outside on benches.

“Caucasian male, age 71, approximately 1.6 meters tall, weighs 83 kilograms. Note a yellowing at his fingertips likely from years of smoking.” He clicked the tape off and set it back down on his instrument table. He took a swab out of its packaging and carefully ran it across the man’s fingertips. He collected a sample from under his nails, the inside of his cheek, along his bottom lip, bagging each piece he collected for testing.

He knew what he expected to find: years of heart disease, smokers lungs, too many homemade cupcakes from his loving wife. He would see a body aged by a life that was lived. That was the goal, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry that this happened to you, Mr. Stevenson. Rest well.”

He closed his eyes, clasping his surgical gloved hands and said a silent prayer for his soul, wherever it may be. He wasn’t a believer, not really, not anymore. He just had to say goodbye to the spirit, to disconnect himself from the person that used to be inside of the skin. He had to separate himself so that he could make that first cut.

He undressed Mr. Stevenson, unbuttoning his sleep shirt. His pale, wrinkled flesh spilled and pressed against the cool metal of the autopsy table. He pressed his scalpel into the man's skin, across his chest and down his stomach in a Y shape. There was no blood. That stopped after death, settled and clotted.

He liked cases like Mr. Stevenson. He passed in his sleep. He was old, and his heart gave out. Dying old and peacefully was the goal. There wasn’t a lot of peace to be found in life and all that Castiel could really hope for was peace in death. It was called an eternal rest for a reason, right? He removed the organs one by one, weighing them on the scale. He made notes of any odd coloring, biopsied anything that was abnormal.

People often asked him why he worked with the dead. Well, not often . People didn’t often speak to him at all, but when they found out he was a medical examiner, their curiosity was piqued. They just couldn’t wrap their minds around why a surgeon would ever want to work in a dark, cold basement instead of an operating room, but they didn’t understand. How could they?

Mr. Stevenson’s heart was a little enlarged, but that was no surprise. Heart disease was on his chart. It ran in his family. Castiel wondered if darkness ran in his.

He threaded his surgical needle with suture thread and meticulously began stitching the pieces of flesh back together. He vaguely recalled his grandmother stitching together his torn shirt in much the same way, every stitch with care. “We can make it whole again, Castiel. Don’t you worry, little angel.” Except he wasn’t worried, not about a tear. Why worry about a rip when there were other things out there in the darkness?

He tied off the last suture and ran a gloved finger across the perfect line. It was much easier to stitch on unmoving flesh. Another chill ran down his spine. It was the full moon pressing down on the world like a heavy hand. It was making him feel claustrophobic.

He moved Mr. Stevenson into a black bag, zipping him up, and sliding him away into the wall of drawers to keep him preserved until the funeral home could come and pick him up. Castiel’s job was done. He discarded his gloves and washed his hands, scrubbing his fingernails, between his fingers, and up to his elbows for exactly five minutes, a habit he picked up when he was still operating. Everything had to be meticulously sterile.

He dried his hands, his arms, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small orange bottle. He gave it a shake to listen to the familiar clatter of tablets against plastic. It gave him peace to know that the pain was a dry-swallow away from dissipating. He popped open the lid, child-locks be damned, and poured two into his hand. They looked small, insignificant against the heft of his palm. He flexed his hand, watching them hop as if eager to slide down his throat.

“Take us inside of you, Castiel,” they seemed to beg. So he did. It was the only intimacy he knew.

There were different types of trauma. While in therapy Castiel learned that they all could be categorized into one of three main types. Acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over little t trauma.

In Castiel’s life, he’d seen his fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-four year old man should’ve. He’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to himself, and he continued to see it on corpse after corpse. He saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

He remembered his first tumor resection from a lung. It was successful, beautiful, that tumor was a piece of art. He went out to deliver the good news to the man's twenty year old daughter. When he told her the news she immediately threw up into the trash can. She kneeled over it, Castiel standing next to her awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He offered her a Kleenex.

She took it and wiped her mouth. She turned her head and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “I thought he would die. I thought he had to.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, puzzled.

“He knew what the cigarettes were doing. He knew they’d kill him, but he didn’t care. If he throws his life away so easily how does he deserve another chance? Why would someone willingly do that to themselves?”

He thought about that a lot, but mostly he thought about how she didn’t understand. How could she understand? He did, though, looking down at the tumor with its tendrils wrapped around the lobe of his lung. The cancer was made of him. It was a part of him. Sometimes people have to cause pain for a release. People are naturally violent. They’re prone to cutting, kicking, biting, and those that are usually find an outlet. They become a football player, a boxer, a surgeon . Not everyone can, though, so instead of inflicting that violence and pain on others, they inflict it on themselves.

Sometimes pain was the only way to feel anything at all. Sometimes he’d rather be numb.

His phone vibrated angrily on his instrument table with a vrrrrrr vrrrr vrrrrr . He opened his eyes and pulled it into his hand. It felt forgein, like it didn’t belong to him. “Doctor Novak.”

“Novak, we have a body.”

“Great,” he said flatly. “Bring it in.”

“Don't hang up!”

“What is it?”

“There’s been a murder. We need you to come up here. There’s a new detective, and I think it’s the first time he’s seen a stiff. We could use you here.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

Castiel didn’t have many friends. Maybe any friends at all, but he had Inias. He was a forensic tech. He knew that Castiel didn’t like being in the field, so he tried to take care of everything on his own. When he was matched with a good detective, it wasn’t a problem. Castiel knew, though, that a rookie could disrupt evidence even by accident and leave him in a mess when he completes his autopsy. He was tired thinking about it already.

He removed his lab coat, hung it, and walked to the bathroom to change out of his scrubs. He preferred to not be out in public in them. In fact, he preferred to not be out in public at all if he could help it.

He threw a gray scoop neck sweater over his white undershirt and pulled on his khaki pants. He grabbed his kit, keys, and cell phone and walked out into the frigid day. The air bit into his skin, and he hissed a bit, wishing desperately that he didn’t leave his coat at home. The plastic bottle in his pocket weighed heavier. He ignored it, shifting his weight to the right as he walked creating a sort of limp.

His vehicle groaned angrily, whining about the cold. “Yes, I’m aware,” he commented to the machine impatiently. The engine sputtered to life after a few twists of his wrist with the key in the ignition. His head had begun to pound, and he added it to just another reason why he hated being out in the field.

The scene wasn’t far, only a few blocks. In another life, Castiel would’ve walked and basked with the sun on his face happy to be alive despite the chill in the air. That was another life, though, and in the life he was in, Castiel drove.

Yellow crime scene tape circled the scene, and Castiel hung his tape recorder on his wrist loosely with a strap. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked up, the recorder bouncing off his hip as he walked.

“Cas!” Inias called to him, waving like a child. He was all wrist and elbow, moving his entire arm. Even his shoulders bobbed. “Damn, buddy, it’s good to see you in the fresh air.

“Speak for yourself,” he replied sourly. “Is this the deceased?” He gestured with an elbow to a woman sprawled out on the ground.

“Nah, this is my girlfriend,” Inias deadpanned. Castiel stared back at him like he didn’t understand, and Inias pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, ‘s her.”

“Perfect.”

Castiel crouched next to her. “Caucasian female, I’d place the age in her twenties,” he said into his tape recorder. Everytime the tape looped around there was a click. Whir, whir, click. Her dark eyes stared up at him, wide, gaping, accusatory. Her lips were parted slightly as if she was going to say something. Day-old red lipstick stained the fullness of her lips.

He squinted at the pinpricks along her arms accompanied with black and blue skin. She was bruised. The blood had settled beneath translucent skin. “Drug use is apparent,” he commented into the recorder. Click!

“You must be the M.E.”

The voice was rough and it sent an immediate chill down Castiel’s spine. His eyes flicked up to catch a pair of moss green eyes glinting in the sunlight. He was young, likely not even thirty years old. His badge hung around his neck on a chain, swinging slightly as he shifted his weight. A plaid button up was tucked under a brown leather coat.

“Yes.” Castiel said, realizing that the man was staring at him like he was a fucking idiot.

“Awesome.” The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk that seemed almost smug, and there was a tug deep within Castiel’s belly as a response. Who did this kid think he was? “I’m Detective Winchester.”

“Pleasure.”

The detective blinked a few times before scratching the back of his head. “I uh...What do you make of her?”

Castiel cleared his throat, happy to turn back to his work. He peeled his eyes off of Winchester and planted them firmly back to the deceased. “The track marks here and here,” he said, gesturing loosely to the pin pricks on the inside of her arm. “Lead me to believe she is an addict.”

“Think it’s an overdose?”

“Hard to tell without a toxicology report,” Castiel began. “But, see this?” He gestured to her mouth. “No vomit. That tells me that it’s unlikely that it was a true overdose. Normally they choke on their own vomit. I’d have to look inside of her throat…” He turned to look back at the detective when his words caught in his throat. He had crouched down at some point while Castiel was talking and was now a breath away from him.

“What about this?” He asked, pointing to the victims throat.

“Bruising,” Castiel explained with a quick nod. “I noticed it as well. It looks like she’s been choked.”

“Could that’ve killed her?”

“I will look into the state of her windpipe, but from here it doesn’t look like there was enough force.”

Winchester nodded a few times, his eyebrows furrowing together in puzzlement. From that close, Castiel could see freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheekbones. It gave him a boyish look, young and wide eyed, but the honey brown hairs poking through the skin on his jaw aged him a bit more. Castiel had to resist the urge to reach out and feel the roughness of new hair breaking through.

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from the detective, and back to the victim. “I will collect some samples and examine her back in the lab.”

The detective put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, causing him to recoil, his head whipping back to look at the man. His green eyes were fixed, intense. “Will you call me with what you figure out? I’ve got a nasty gut feeling that this is more than it looks like.”

His mouth was dry, and he was sure his jaw was hanging open. The guy was green, a rookie, so what did he know? Castiel’s eyes flickered back to the body and his own gut twisted. He didn’t know how, or why, but he believed the green eyed detective. He believed him down to his bones. “Alright.”

“Thank you,” Winchester breathed, like he was relieved.

“It’s my job,” Castiel said blankly, his fingers tapping his pocket anxiously. He didn’t like it… talking to people, socializing, being watched. He could feel the weight of the man's gaze and it felt suffocating. He turned to Inias. “Bring the body to me, I… I will meet you there.”

He turned on his heels and shuffled away rapidly, trying to catch his breath as the sky seemed to come down on him with a crushing weight. He pulled on his collar, trying to get it away from his neck, because it felt like a tight hold, like fingers pressing on his windpipe. The pain was still there, it was always there. It was a phantom limb, gone but still aching.

He hadn’t waited for Inias to respond, or to pass over what he had collected. His recorder was still whirring in his hand, recording every passing second. He clicked it off as soon as his ass fell into the driver's seat of his vehicle. He gripped the wheel with both hands and clamped his eyes shut. He tried to steady his breathing, like he’d learned in therapy, but thinking about therapy made him even more anxious. Why did Inias call him? He could’ve handled it on his own!

He dug deep into his pocket, pulling out the familiar plastic bottle. He cracked open the top, dumping the tiny tablets onto his palm. He wasted no time before swallowing them, his lips to his palm. It hurt rolling down his dry throat, but he avoided the urge to gag. He needed it. He closed his eyes again, pressing the back of his head to the headrest, and he fell into the darkness.

+++

He was whistling, whistling. He wasn’t sure he’d ever whistled in his life, but yet there he was. It was probably inappropriate, to have some feigned happiness around a woman who had overdosed. Well, he couldn’t say for certain that it was an overdose, not until his lab got back.

Like he suspected, she didn’t die of strangulation, but there was a struggle. She was attacked and fought her attacker. He got samples of skin under her fingernails. Skin and blood. They still didn’t have any identification for her, but the police were supposed to be running her finger prints and dental records. It was looking more and more like a murder. It was a puzzle, and Castiel loved puzzles. They were complicated, but yet they all fit together in the end in a pretty picture. Not much in life ended up that way, so Castiel craved the moments when it did. He hoped she would make a perfect picture. The dead deserved justice, sometimes it was all that they got from a world that only dished out pain.

He thought back to the rookie detective as he sewed up the Y cut across her chest and down her stomach. He was handsome, young, and serious. Castiel didn’t allow himself to look, let alone date, but he couldn’t seem to pluck the man from his mind. He was a planted seed, and the ideas were already blooming and growing out of control.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he stopped whistling, but the new silence around the morgue was deafening. It was broken only by one stray drip drip drip. Did he leave the faucet on? He turned quickly to check, the world tilting on its axis a bit as he stumbled to the sink.

Sure enough, a droplet was pooling and falling rapidly from the faucet into the sink with an earth shattering splash. He let out a sigh of relief, as he placed his hand under the faucet, almost as if to check the temperature, to be sure that it was really there. Wetness pooled at his fingers as another drop fell from the faucet onto his skin, and he pulled back his hand to examine his fingers.

They were red.

Blood soaked his fingertips, a single droplet at first, but it continued to spread. Had he cut himself? He wiped away the blood on his scrub top, but it just kept coming, spurting and oozing out. He blindly reached for a towel and wrapped it around his fingers to stop the bleeding. He pressed it against the wound, his head spinning already from the blood loss.

The light blue surgical towel was already turning wet and crimson from the blood soaking through, pooling, growing, and a horrible feeling came to his stomach. He was going to die.

He didn’t want to die, but more than that he didn’t want to be a body on someone’s table. He didn’t want to be exposed, cut open, and emptied out like a bag of groceries. He didn’t want his blood to settle and congeal. He didn’t want a tag on his toe, his greying skin zipped within a black bag. He couldn’t be reduced to just parts.

His heart was racing, and he knew that it was a mistake. He was a doctor for god sakes, and he knew that rapid heartbeat would make him bleed out faster, but he couldn’t stop the panic that was spiraling within him.

The pain pulsed through him, his fingers throbbing with the beat of his heart. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he quickly unwrapped his fingers. He needed to find the source of the bleed and stitch it up or he would surely bleed out and die alone next to a murder victim. He unwrapped the towel and placed his hand immediately under the faucet to run water over it. He turned on the flow and clear water ran over his skin. There was no blood to be found.

He pulled his hand away, examining it in its entirety. Then his opposite hand. There was no cut. There was no blood at all. He picked up the surgical towel to find it completely dry. There was never any blood. He stared at it, his fingers curling around the fabric.

He was losing his fucking mind.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh and turned off the faucet, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow with the surgical towel. He probably needed a day off — maybe a week. He turned back to finish his examination of the murder victim. He still had a mountain of paperwork to do and samples to process. His eyes settled on the metal examination table. The silver top gleamed in the buzzing fluorescent lights. He touched his temple and closed his eyes. In, out, in out. Keep it together, Castiel. But when he opened his eyes the picture in front of him was still the same.

The table was completely empty and cleared off.

The body was gone.

+++

Part Two

Masterlist

#supernatural #spn au #destiel #dark!fic #PPB2020 #mortiican!Cas #detective!DEan #castiel #dean winchester #MCI #pain

4 notes · View notes

maknaesdancersrappers · 5 years

Text

Devoted 2

Part 4

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibition, etc.), character death, dark themes

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: Part 3

wc: 4,053

He keeps calling after you with his hurried steps trying to match with yours. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole; just gobble up your pathetic frame and make you disappear. Somehow he’s manage to catch up, grabbing your elbow to stop you with one last exasperated call of your name.

“Let go!”

“[Y/N], please let me explain.”

You push him away, “I think your parents made it clear enough for me.”

He gives you the pleading look that you know you can’t deny, “Please, just listen to me. I-I didn’t think they’d tell it to you straight!”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, eyes pricking with tears, “So you already knew how they felt about me? Is that why you didn’t even try to defend me?”

Guilt is painted all over his face; brows knitting between his forehead as he tries to find the words to placate you.

“I c-can’t believe,” You hated how your voice cracked; how it made you sound so vulnerable. “you-you’re just going to let them break us up because of what I want? Because of my dreams and passion?”

“[Y/N]... you know I love you.”

“Clearly,” You scoff, a sarcastic smile growing on your face as the tears finally stream down your cheeks, “not enough to fight for us.”

He repeats your name, softly like always. “I’m sorry.”

“Bye, Kun.”

“It’s been so long! Wow, you look great.”

It takes a second for his compliment to register in your head as you’re still in shock at seeing him again. “Y-yeah, you too. How long have you been back?”

“Barely a year ago. I’ll be finishing my residency program at the hospital here.” Kun’s eyes shifted a bit as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way. I saw on the news, and overheard some of the other nurses talking... about the engagement.”

Instinctively, you look down at your hand; to your engagement ring. “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

“Wait, isn’t that aunty’s?” He muses, “You love that ring. That’s great he got it for you. I’m glad you’re happy, [Y/N].”

Not knowing what to reply, you nod your head, “Uhm, so what about you?”

He lets out a sad chuckle, “No luck. Med school doesn’t really give me that much time to socialize. I’m always studying.”

“Not even classmates?”

“They’re not really interested, either.” Kun shrugs with a half smile on his face, displaying a lone dimple and how chiseled his face was. “Maybe it isn’t time for me just yet, you know?”

Before you could reply, Kyungwon steps up beside you, telling you she’s ready to go. She glances at Kun and gasps, “Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all!” He says and you already know she was swooning at his smile, “I’m just waiting for my order and then I’ll be back to work. It was nice seeing you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah. You, too.” You wave at him before leading Kyungwon out of the food park and dealing with her questions the second he was out of earshot.

“Who was that? Oh my god? He’s hot! And a doctor? [Y/N]! Why haven’t you mentioned you were friends with an incredibly hot doctor?”

You begrudgingly let out a sigh, taking a long sip from your forgotten drink that’s been watered down by the melted ice. “I don’t think we’re exactly friends.”

At your tone, she chooses to stay quiet and patiently wait for you to start explaining. The walk back to the office was silent; both of you weaving through foot traffic under the noon sun.

“He’s my ex. We dated back in high school.” You say once you were in the elevator of your building and the door closes. “He moved back to his hometown in China before graduating. I haven’t heard of or from him since.”

Kyungwon offers you a sympathetic smile, “And he’s back here? Small world. Are you… okay?”

“A little overwhelmed. I mean,” the doors open and you alight first, walking towards the pantry where you often had your lunch at, “I haven’t seen him in a decade. We didn’t… end things nicely. It’s… it’s just-”

“Hey, you know you don’t have to tell me, right?” She interrupts, “I’ll take whatever information you’re comfortable with sharing with me and I’ll work with it.”

You share a smile before she launches into a different topic and you’re thankful at how considerate Kyungwon was; you’re definitely stealing her away from this company once you establish your own.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core.

It’s probably around 2AM when you woke up to him coming back from the bathroom and his simple kiss to lure you back to sleep escalated quickly to heavy making out with his hand pressing over your panties.

You whine, grabbing his hand and placing it back over you. “You’ve been doing this for years, how can you possibly be doing something wrong?”

“I’ve been doing it for years, but not once did I ever see you frowning.” He lets one finger graze the length of your clothed pussy. “Did something happen at work?”

Your thoughts fly back to Kun and you immediately push his hands away. “Not exactly…”

Jaehyun watches you fix your night clothes and pull the sheets over your body. He follows after you, waiting for an explanation.

You sigh, chewing on your lip as you try to form a sentence without possibly triggering him. You should have told him about Kun before - in the early stages of your relationship. But you were still hurt from what happened between the two of you; so you chose not to talk about it and you were grateful Jaehyun respected that decision.

“I can’t…”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it,” He holds your hand above the sheets, “It’s fine. Tell me whenever you are.”

Dejectedly, you nod; kissing his cheek before turning around and letting him spoon you. As you feel him drift into sleep, the weight of his arm slumping completely over your waist, your thoughts fly back to (technically) yesterday lunch’s conversation with Kun.

He looked good - really good. You can’t compare him to Jaehyun, though, but he’s completely glowed up from the last time you saw him. Save for a few stray red bumps on his jaw and the obvious dark circles under his eyes accumulated from sleepless nights of studying, you can’t stress enough how handsome he was.

You really should tell Jaehyun about him and hopefully he wouldn’t blow things out of proportion, but you don’t know how and where to start. Maybe you should talk to Doyoung first about Kun, ask if he knew he was back.

“You’re thinking too loudly, babe, please go to sleep.” Jaehyun drawls while yawning, pulling you closer. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You hope so, too.

It’s been a full two days, yet you haven’t told Jaehyun like you had wanted. You were able to push it to the back of your mind while working out the contract with Yuta for his apartment. Kun only popped back into your mind when a smaller news account on social media posted a photo of you and him at the food park talking. Kyungwon showed it to you, only because her skirt had a fold at the back of her thighs caught in the photo. You’re hoping - praying - that Jaehyun doesn’t have the time to check these petty news accounts; you don’t even want to think about how he’ll react to them.

With Yuta busy assisting his sister in their business with Jaehyun, you’re free for the rest of the day until you have to time out. Doyoung should have some time to spare to entertain a phone call from you.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dons, how are you?” You sit down on an unoccupied couch at the lounge area of your office floor, placing a throw pillow on your lap.

“Good. Same old, same old. You?”

“I have a little time on my hands. My client is busy so I don’t have much to do since I haven’t seen his place yet.”

Doyoung hums on the other line, “So you called to bother me?”

You scoff, “No! Can’t I check up on my best friend?”

“[Y/N], just tell me the reason why you called.”

It’s annoying how you can see how he’s rolling his eyes at you right now. Sighing, you begin, “Well… did you know that Kun is back in town?”

The line is silent, enough to make you think your call got cut off before Doyoung speaks up again: “Yeah, I ran into him months ago at the hospital when I had to get x-rays for my back.”

“What?” You were the one who told him to get his back checked and kept asking for updates about it, yet he never cared to mention about him running into Kun? “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wouldn’t know how to bring it up and how you’d react! I didn’t think you’d actually cared if he was back or not… do you?”

You groaned, “I… I don’t care about him being back, it’s just… I was surprised. I mean, Jaehyun doesn’t even know about… Kun.”

Doyoung gasps, “At all? You’ve been together for 7 years and you never cared to mention about him?”

You look out the window of the lounge room, “No. When the topic of exes came up between us… it still hurt to talk about it - and Jae never pushed to talk about it afterwards.”

“Maybe he already had him checked.” He casually says.

“He would never.” You’re quick to defend like always, but pause to think about the chances. Jaehyun was fully capable to have you background checked and if he has, he would have definitely known about Kun. Was that why he didn’t push you into telling him about Kun? Because he already knew?

“I’m joking,” Doyoung laughs, unaware of how you were truly reacting to his suggestion, “But it sounds like there’s nothing wrong about just telling him outright. You’re engaged, [Y/N]. Kun is the past for about a decade now. I know you love Jaehyun way more than you did Kun; and you’re worried about how Jaehyun is going to react to it, but you just need to explain that you and Kun ended on a bad note and never really had proper closure.”

Doyoung was right; you never let Kun explain his side of what went down. You walked out of the relationship and avoided him up until he finally moved away. You were even convinced that you weren’t going to trust another boy with your heart until you met Jaehyun.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

“Thanks, Don.” You roll your eyes with a little chuckle, “We should all have dinner soon. Ten is coming over from Thailand to make up for missing the engagement party.”

“Sure, just tell me when and I’ll clear my schedule.”

You snort, “Ooh, listen to you, Mr. Hotshot. I heard you were in demand, shame, I would need some help when I start my own company, but if you’re swarmed by better clients.”

“Nonsense!” He cuts you off, “I would make you my top priority.”

Rising up from your seat, you return the throw pillow back onto the couch and start making your way back to your carrel. “Aw, really, Dons?”

“Yeah, your future husband would pay me well.”

Jaehyun had been working overtime the next days; it was like the universe was preventing you from telling him about Kun. He’d come home when you were asleep and leave for work just as you woke up. It was only Sunday when you were able to wake up to his face as he quietly snores away; he must have been so tired from yesterday: accompanying Yunho to a meeting all the way to the south.

Today, your parents are coming over for brunch and although you usually prepared food with Jaehyun when either of your parents came over, you’d rather have him rest this one out.

After freshening up in the bathroom and pulling up a bunch of recipes on your tablet, you prepare your ingredients for brunch while having coffee and a bowl of cereal. You would usually have Jaehyun play some of his songs to fill the silence of the apartment, but you don’t want to risk waking him up so you had to use earphones instead. You go through almost two albums of your favorite artist when you finish cooking a platter of garlic chive pancakes and quickly whip up its’ dipping sauce before cleaning up your station and starting on another dish.

As you browse for the easiest egg bread recipe, leaned over the counter and aimlessly humming along to the song playing; you’re suddenly pulled back and spun around.

Jaehyun presses his lips over yours, holding you against the marble counter. “Good morning, love.”

“Good morning.” You sigh, tiptoeing to chase after his lips for a quick peck. “I was letting you sleep in.”

“What’s the point of sleeping in when you’re not there beside me?” He sleepily complains, pulling you into a hug and burying his face on the crook of your neck.

“My parents are coming over for brunch, remember? We can’t sleep in. I still have to make egg bread and beef stew.”

He groans, “We could have ordered those!”

You laugh while pushing him away, “You can either go back to sleep or help me out.”

“I’ll go freshen up real quick and help you out.” Jaehyun kisses your forehead, making an obnoxiously loud ‘mwah’ noise when he pulls away, even pinching your ass hard enough to make you gasp and flinch before he ducks away to avoid your retaliation.

Recomposing yourself, you resume your cooking agenda. While gathering the ingredients for the egg bread, you quietly give yourself a pep talk. This is the perfect time to tell him about Kun; in any case that he doesn’t take it well, he has time to think it through while your parents are over.

But when he returns to help you out by making bulgogi (instead of the beef stew you initially thought of cooking,) he starts asking about wedding details like where you wanted it to, the theme, and such; and you absolutely hate yourself for letting him derail you so easily because you entertain his question. Before you know it, he wittingly changes the topic about where to go for the honeymoon and by this time you’re both done cooking and setting the table.

Jaehyun has you giggling, trapped between his body and the kitchen island, whispering places he could think off the top of his head into your ear. “Bali? Venice? Greece? We could go anywhere you want.”

“Do we really need to go on a honeymoon? Any days off we have together is practically a honeymoon - just minus the relationship status.”

“Oh, but that’s the point; we’ll be husband and wife. We can try for kids when we’re ready.” He nuzzles the side of your head with his nose, softly chuckling as his hands slip dangerously low on your body.

You slap his shoulder, “We are not having sex before brunch and with my parents coming over any minute now.”

“Then how about a little making out on the couch? Nothing below the belt.” He’s already guiding you past the dining table and towards the connecting living room, “Like a bunch of high schoolers.”

His analogy smacks you in the head and you’re reminded of the time you were with Kun. You were at his house, studying for some test in their living room, when one second you were trying to help each other understand a concept, and then another second you were kissing. It made so much more sense after breaking up as to why he was so harsh about pushing you off when his parents came home.

Snapping back to reality, you push Jaehyun down the couch and straddle his lap; capturing his lips into a fervent kiss. He’s clearly caught off guard, nevertheless exerts as much effort in deepening the kiss. There’s a nagging voice in your head, telling you that you’re doing this because you were guilty of thinking about Kun. But you’re convincing yourself that you’re just biting into the temptation Jaehyun had set up. Right?

A phone rings and you pull away with an annoyed sigh.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He groans, letting you off his lap.

“Maybe we should have a honeymoon so I can have you all to myself.” You sarcastically muse out loud, slumping against the armrest.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jaehyun says out loud while he runs to where his incessantly ringing phone is located.

Not even three minutes later, he comes bounding back to you, eager to resume your previous activity, but just as he reaches you, the doorbell rings.

“We have tonight?” You offer, trying not to laugh at how disheartened he looks.

“I’m making sure we have a month long honeymoon.” He grumbles, allowing you to leave his hold so you could answer the door.

You greet your parents at the door with a hug and kiss each, ushering them inside where Jaehyun hugs them, too, before settling on the dining table.

“How have you two been? I know it’s only been a week or so, but have you to started on the planning for the wedding?” Your mother asks as she accepts the bowl of rice you passed to her.

“We just did, actually, this morning.” Jaehyun smiles while going around the table to fill up your glasses with water. “But all just general thoughts and ideas; musing out loud. We’ll officially plan after both our schedules clear up - or maybe just after [Y/N]’s project.”

Your dad looks at you, “Oh, you have a new project?”

“Contract hasn’t been signed yet, but I’ll be in charge of working with one of Jaehyun’s work partners.” You pause, “And it might actually be my last.”

“Last?” Your parents exclaim; looking at you with wide eyes, “Are you being laid off?”

You look to Jaehyun and gives you a little nod, “No, I… I plan to quit actually and start my own company.”

Your dad glances at your mom before returning his worried gaze to you, “Start your own company?”

“It was my idea.” Jaehyun jumps in, “She has so much talent and potential to be constricted in a male-dominated company.”

He was so good with words that you can see the sudden realization and agreement in your parents’ eyes as he explains. Honestly, you were glad he jumped into the conversation because you don’t know how to tell it to your parents without mentioning the meltdown and deal in the bathroom a few nights ago.

“I’ll be with her every step of the way.” Jaehyun holds your hand over the table and you return the smile he shoots you.

“Oh, Jaehyun, we know.” Your mom hushes, “There’s no one else in the world we would trust our daughter with any more than you.”

“Dons would be so hurt by that, mom.” You chuckled, resuming your eating.

“Well, I’d trust him to take care of you if I wasn’t around.” This makes you look at him, trying to disguise your surprise as mere glance.

He’s only had one session with his therapist, but he’s saying things like this about the same boy he punched for saying he loves you, despite knowing it was meant in a platonic way? It warms your heart that Jaehyun is actually keeping his word and the fact he sounded sincere.

“Oh, well, that boy was quite a troublemaker back in the day.” Your dad chides, “Pulling pranks and always had that short temper of his when karma gets back at him.”

“Really?” Jaehyun coughs, reaching for his water, “Doyoung? A troublemaker as a child?”

Your mother sighs, “Oh, if you only knew, he and - goodness! It had completely slipped my mind!” She grins at you, visibly perking up in her seat, “You would never guess who I ran into the hospital the other day!”

And just like that, you feel your blood ran cold. Trying to derail her, you clear your throat, “Why were you at the hospital? Is everything okay?”

“I was just visiting a sick friend, I’m fine, dear, but,” She waves her hand to dismiss you, “I ran into Kun!”

You couldn’t breathe.

“Kun? Qian Kun?” Your dad interjects, “He’s back in town?”

“He’s said he’s been back about a year ago. He’ll be finishing his residency at the hospital.” She peers at you, hopefully, “Kun looks good, doesn’t he, dear?”

You opted to hum, quickly stuffing your mouth with food to excuse yourself from answering.

“Who’s Kun?” Jaehyun curiously asks after swallowing, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You’ve stopped moving at this point, trying to focus on chewing your food and think of a way to change the topic.

“Kun is [Y/N] and Doyoung’s high school classmate.”

You’re praying to every higher being that she’ll end it there, alas each and everyone failed you.

“He and [Y/N] used to date.”

Maybe you’re overreacting and your mind is playing games with you by conjuring the thought that Jaehyun’s entire body had gone rigid and you could see the veins on his hand bulging out from the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, really?” His voice sounded strained.

“He actually told me he actually ran into you during lunch that day. Oh, he’s still so sweet - you two were so cute before.”

“Which means he’s the past.” You shrug your shoulders, acting like you didn’t care. “We wouldn’t have lasted either; he’s always studying - med school and all…”

Your mom drops the topic to talk about your ideas for your future company and you’re doing your best to answer her but half of your mind is gauging Jaehyun’s actions. He’s only pushing the food around his plate; nodding his head to your words and your parents.

Brunch goes by quickly and your parents are off to somewhere else - you can’t remember where; you’re too distraught about what could possibly happen once they leave. It doesn’t help that your mother decided to loudly suggest meeting up with Kun for dinner some other day as a family and you didn’t even dare try to see how Jaehyun had reacted to it. The second you close the door, you turn to face the music, but Jaehyun wasn’t behind you.

You hear the kitchen faucet turn on and the sound of kitchenware clinking. Hesitantly, you amble back to the kitchen to find him quietly doing the dishes. You don’t know if you should explain yourself or let him just come to you; but you’d rather do it now.

“Jae… “

“Baby.” His voice almost sounded flat.

“I… I should have told you about him; Kun…”

“That you ran into him - your ex and possibly first love - days ago?” He remarks, “Your mom seems to love him.”

“My mom loves you, too.”

“Is that why you were so out of it the other day? Were you thinking of him that night I tried to make you feel good?”

You could hear your own heartbeat thumping from your chest. “A-are you mad…?”

He immediately stops doing the dishes and turns to you, “No. No, I shouldn’t be. I don’t have the right to be.” Wiping his hands on kitchen towel and stalking up to the counter across you, “I don’t have the right to be mad at you. I just… want to know why it took you years to tell me about him if he clearly meant something to you.”

“Before.” You add, “He only meant something to me before.”

Jaehyun lets out a deep sigh, nodding, “Is he your first love?”

You blink up at Jaehyun, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Was Kun your first love? You always thought he was back in high school, but never really thought about it again when he left. When Jaehyun came into the picture, you knew you love him - probably more than you did Kun, but were you just going to disregard your entire past with Kun?

“Yeah,” You lick your lips, “He is.”

a/n: okay so it’ll be awhile before the next update to make way for 14 Ways to Tell Them You Love Them Too (seriously thats a long ass title i cant even) bUT!! I hope you guys like this update even though it’s shorter than the last one huehuehue

its also like 3:30AM so :--)

next: part 5

#nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #devoted 2

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outofmylimitcal · 5 years

Text

The Hating Game Pt. 1 - Calum Hood

a/n: some how this got deleted the first time around ???? but here you go College!Cal, i was gonna do frat cal but i avoid them like the plague at school so not the best idea. first part of the series and i dont know how many parts there’s going to be ,, anyway enjoy and lmk what you think!!

part 2

synopsis: natalie has held a grudge against calum since he screwed her over in first year, and cause he’s kind of a snarky asshole, but when he comes to her rescue one night will all be forgiven??

word count: 2023

warnings: swearing, drinking, and kinda smutty??? but not sex

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To say I was done with school would have been an understatement, all my midterms were done, and the semester had hit that lull in between when finals hadn’t started yet, but you had nothing else on your plate. Third year was so close to being done and I could almost taste graduation even if it was a year out, so far, my engineering program had smacked my ass to Pluto and back. Setting my phone down on my desk, I walked into the living room to be met with my two best friends, Charlotte who was also in engineering, and Sierra who was pre-med and hoping to get into med school after her undergrad.

“Hi yes we need to go out for our last free weekend of the semester.” I exclaimed plopping down onto the couch and startling them both up from their phones.

“Luke invited us out to that bar on Main street, all the boys will be there too.” Sierra replied letting us know her boyfriend’s plans, looking back down at her phone. At the thought of ‘all the boys’ I let out a fake gag.

“C’mon Natalie, you seriously still can’t hold a grudge against Calum for what he did in FIRST year.” Char let out, slapping me across the arm.

“I can and I will, I’m down to go, but I can’t say I’ll be pleasant towards him.” I scoffed grabbing the TV remote and aimlessly flipping through the channels.

Okay, maybe holding a grudge for two years is a little bit of an overkill, but when Calum ruined my perfect grade in a class because he thought it was going to be an easy elective and I was going to do the entire project (mind you it was worth 40% of our grade) for him because as he put it ‘it’s my major, I shouldn’t have a problem doing it alone’ do I get to hold a grudge. I mean who the fuck takes computer science as an elective, I didn’t even want to take it and it was mandatory for me. But with him not doing his part, my grade suffered, and with that went my liking for Calum. It may be petty but I’m as petty as they come, nowadays I mildly tolerate him since our friends like to hang out together but not without the fair share of sarcastic banter between us.

“Anyways, it’s 8:00 and they probably want to meet around 9:30 so we should go get ready.” I say turning off the TV and tossing the remote back onto the coffee table, standing up and booping their noses I start the walk back to my room.

“Maybe you should fuck him, that would alleviate the weird ass tension between you two.” Char yells out from the living room, followed by a burst of laughing coming from Si. I continue walking back to my room, flipping them off behind me.

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Meeting back up in the living room at a quarter after 9, my makeup was done, I’d thrown on some random band tee, and slipped on my shoes and leather jacket, twirling my house keys in my fingers as I took one last look in the mirror.

“Hurry the fuck up, I don’t wanna get stuck in the line. Again.” I yelled out to them, and as if on cue they walked into the foyer, clipping their bags closed and fixing up the last few things.

“For someone who says they hate him, y’all sure do dress very alike.” Char chirped while slipping on her own shoes.

“Hate is a very strong word Char, it’s more of a strong distaste.” I piped back giving my most sarcastic smile, unlocking the door and calling the uber. They followed me out the apartment, and down to the uber waiting outside.

“They said they’re at a table in the back, and that the line to get in wasn’t too long.” Sierra said looking down at her phone and sending a quick text back. Hopping out of the uber and saying a quick thank you to the driver, we shuffled over to the line and saw only about 5 people infront of us.

“See the line isn’t that long, no need to rush us.” Charlotte said, earning only an eyeroll from me. Showing our IDs to the bouncer, and paying the cover we walked into the bar, that kind of turns into a club on weekends, with tables moved to welcome a dance floor, and a DJ playing everything from Top 40s to rap throwbacks, it was THE place to be on weekends in the small university town. Getting here early meant getting a table, and not having to wait too long in the lineup outside. Sierra tapped Charlotte’s shoulder and pointed somewhere near the back, most likely to the table the boys had decided to residence up at. They both turned to look at me, relaying information I had already deduced from their hand motions.

“You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go get a drink first.” God knows I’m going to need it tonight. Making a bee-line to the bar and taking a seat on the stool, I got the attention of a bartender, ordering a vodka sprite. I spun around to survey the area, as I scanned the crowd of dancing people, my eyes landed on Ben, my ex-boyfriend who cheated on me, and stole all my chemistry notes in the process, leading me to fail said chem class’ midterms. He was looking real cozy with some blonde chick I recognized from one of my classes, and as he looked up, I locked eyes with him. If looks could kill Ben would be a deadman. I could feel my blood boiling as he gave me a small smile or smirk. I don’t care, I didn’t look long enough for it to register, spinning back around, taking my drink and paying the bartender with a small smile I walked away to meet my friends. Approaching the table, I could see Sierra and Luke cozied up in their own world, and Charlotte in a debate with Ashton and Michael about something to do with our last physics midterm since they were both in our program, and Calum staring off into space with his hand around his beer. Surveying the table, I saw the only spot left was next to Calum, those fuckers. Plopping down I let out a huff, placing my drink on the table. This was enough to snap Char out of her conversation.

“Yo what’s up with you?” She questioned giving me a puzzled look.

“I saw Ben when I was at the bar.” I replied twirling my straw through my drink.

“Woah wait Ben’s here?” Sierra piped from the other side of the table.

“Who the fuck is Ben?” Ashton mused looking around the table at what was transpiring. Before I could respond, Charlotte explained.

“He’s the asshole who cheated on Nat a month ago, and then stole her chem notes so she failed the last midterm.”

Wide eyes and little chirps of yikes were thrown, causing me to down my drink in response. I’m gonna need a little liquid courage to get through tonight.

“Well that’s what you get for dating a guy named Benjamin.” I turned to my right to look at Calum who just chuckled at my reaction, reaching over and grabbing his beer from his hand, I downed the entire thing too, smacking it on the table as I wiped my mouth and locked my eyes onto his look of disbelief. Correction, I’m gonna need a LOT more alcohol to get through tonight.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

As the night progressed, dancing ensued, and plenty more drinks were consumed. Feeling a little more than just buzzed, but definitely not shit-faced, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t having fun dancing with my best friends, but every time I looked up all I could see was Ben’s shitty smirk and every time it managed to knock me down a few pegs. This time was the last straw, as I turned to my friends and motioned drinking water, finding my way back to our table, I sat down and pulled out my phone. After a few minutes of scrolling aimlessly a figure plopped down, opposite of me, expecting it to be Ben I didn’t look up.

“Awn little benny boo got you down love.” Okay, definitely not Ben, I looked up to be met with the smirk of Calum.

“Aye, fuck off Calum.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He replied leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “What if I told you I had an idea?”

“Well I’d tell you to shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Damn, aren’t we snarky tonight. But just hear me out okay, Ben keeps looking at you trying to make you jealous, and even if he was an asshole you still kind of have feelings for him, right?” I nodded along, not really knowing where this conversation was going. “Well how about we dance a little too close for comfort, and hope he gets the message?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I thought about his offer in my head, Calum was attractive there’s no doubt, and if things turned out differently maybe I would have pursued something there. My mind then flashed to what Char had said earlier, and this too could be used as an opportunity to fuck with them as well.

“Say I was thinking of taking you up on your offer, we’re going to need shots first.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. Slapping his hands together, he climbed around the table, and put his hand out as if I should lead the way. Rolling my eyes at him but leading the way to the bar. Once there I could feel him pressing against me. “Guess it starts now huh?”

Moving my hair out of the way, chills ran down me as I felt his hot breath on my skin, whispering into my ear I hear him say, “Cute band tee by the way, someone could almost say you’re copying my style.”

My breath hitched at the sudden closeness, and I couldn’t get attention of the bartender faster, needing those drinks now. All I could hear was chuckle from Calum as he moved from behind me to beside me.

“Cheers.” He states as raising his shot and downing it, before taking the second one and doing the same. “C’mon let’s go dance.”

Grabbing my hand and leading me to where my friends were dancing on the dance floor, Calum spun me around, so I was in front of him and placed his hands on my hips. Looking up Sierra and Char had puzzled looks on their faces and mouths open as if about to speak, raising my hand to silence them, I melted into Calum, slowly grinding my hips to whatever song was playing. Friends who kind of hate each other can still dance with each other, right? Closing my eyes and further sinking into him, I let one hand rest on his on my hip, the other going to the back of his neck playing with the hair at the tap of his neck. Hearing him groan in response, I smirked to myself. The swaying continued, and I kept my hold on his hair, his free hand that I wasn’t holding would drift up my side, or around and to my butt making me tense and giggle anytime he hit a spot that kind of tickled. It felt weird to say that I was enjoying this, it’s been so long since I’ve just carelessly danced with a guy at a bar. Finally letting my eyes flutter open I looked dead ahead of me, already seeing Ben, eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape, before turning around and storming away from the girl he was with. Spinning myself so I was now face-to-face with Calum, I wrapped my arms around his neck leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “Looks like it worked, thanks for the help handsome.”

Kissing his cheek before coming to stand straight, I turned to Char and Sierra, letting them know I was gonna head out and that I would see them at home. Sierra yelled out a quick, “Text me when you get home.” I weaved my way out of the bar to stand outside waiting for my uber.

“Hey Nat, wait up!” I spun around to see Calum walking towards me scratching the back of my neck. “You mind if I crash at yours? I’m pretty sure Ashton’s gonna bring a girl home and my rooms next to his and the walls are too thin, and I just don’t wanna hear that and yeah.”

I studied Calum and suddenly the man that’s usually so sure of himself looked nervous? If it was any other night I would say no, and maybe it’s because my inhibitions are lowered due to all the alcohol, and I kind of do owe him for how he helped me out tonight. So before I could even stop the words coming out of my mouth I said, “Uh yeah sure, my uber’s about to be here any minute.”

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

if this has any typos i dont claim them

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum thomas hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5sos imgaines #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #calum hood blurb #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos blurb #calum hood blurbs #5sos blurbs

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doc-resilient · 4 years

Note

What helped to you choose internal med? Cause im between internal and peds atm, obvs it’ll change as i get through m3, but the gauging the scope of the practices is hard. I like peds for how broad the practice is, despite the narrow age range, But internal med, ideally i’d want to be a hospitalist, it has a lot of different paths to follow but idk if i want to be a “care coordinator” you know? In terms of happiness/longevity, are you pleased with where youre at?

Ooo, first off. Hey community, please chime in! How did #MedBlr decide what they were gonna #Med in?

HI FRIEND! Love the question! I am probably the worst person to ask but isn’t the worst person to ask also kind of the best person to ask? (That made sense in my head.)

But really, thank you so much for asking because this is a perfect opportunity for reflection as I prepare for the future.

So let’s break it down.

((record scratch))

About Me (AKA Physician, Know Thyself)

Step 1 (sorry, not that Step 1): what is important to you? When I say “know thyself,” this profession is full of introspection and discovering things about yourself and medicine, so of course it will change and evolve. It still helps however to sit down and pick a few important interests /dealbreakers about yourself.

If you’re into this, do it with me now! Here’s an example list about myself so you get where I am coming from when I made my choice.

I am passionate about / it is important to me that I am this type of physician:

- Public Health / Policy - Big Picture- Hands On- People And Their Stories- Interdisciplinary- Broad Knowledge / Capable in Many Situations- Passions Outside Medicine

Choosing Internal Medicine (AKA The Match Forcing Me to Say Goodbye to My Other Love, Family Med)

Some people meet their specialty and just know. Choosing my specialty involved using what was important to narrow it down. The interesting thing about The List is that you and I can have the same list but come to a different decision. Your experiences and how these things translate to you will vary.

Going through clinical years I was like, yo! I like it all - yes, even surgery. The name of the game became ruling out. I ruled out surgery because to be a surgeon, I personally would’ve wanted that to be a calling level interest. As for pediatrics, honestly I feel like I didn’t have the strongest exposure so that might have played a factor but I essentially wasn’t ready to give up treating adults though I truly did like (and felt mentally and socially capable of) treating kids. (In retrospect, I do think I would have really enjoyed pediatrics so totally keep exploring it, friend!)

I eventually narrowed it down to Internal Medicine or Family Medicine and was willing to rank by program and let the Match decide. To me, IM or FM was going to give me that big picture and broad knowledge that I craved. I felt it would allow me to have other passions and veer off the beaten path to less traditional physician roles, too. I wasn’t tied to needing to specialize [IM subspecialties] but knew I’d consider it if I matched IM. That’s what ended up happening and I said a bittersweet goodbye to bebes and preggos.

Exploring Hospital Medicine (AKA Where I Am Now AKA Love is a Battlefield)

Why hospitalist? Going through internal medicine residency, I did not end up finding my One True Specialty. There were aspects of all of them that I liked but not one that I immediately wanted to do the rest of my life. Turns out I didn’t change much in terms of The List/ What Was Important To Me, either. I do not mind outpatient primary care and can see still myself choosing it and having a patient panel. However, I chose hospital medicine. I am still a newbie to it (despite growing up around it in my residency) and am still job hunting/learning more about the pros and cons. From what I understood, I felt hospital medicine would allow me a broad range of experiences and interactions, particularly acuity. It would allow me to build on my residency training and keep those skills sharp while allowing me a flexible schedule to pursue further interests (medicine and non-medicine.)

You mention the term “care coordinator.” You are absolutely right, internal medicine (and our family medicine brethren) doctors can be all those super fun terms - gatekeepers, care coordinators, order monkeys, assistant to the assistant managers, etc. Like all of our medical community, we face all the frustrations and broken pieces. It’s just I feel like hospital medicine and primary care faces it head-on. We are one of the frontlines of everything the system holds - politics, bureaucracy, overburdened, etc. If our other counterparts have shelters (”shift work”, “Let the primary handle”, etc.), I feel like we have less of it. It is so easy and even a protective mechanism to get jaded.

Instead of this being a con, this is actually a reason I want to go into it. Outside of medicine, I actually *am* interested in seeing how this system is broken and brainstorming solutions to ease it. I am interested in understanding the politics (some can’t stomach meetings, I can). I also feel like I am good at self-reflection and keeping an eye on getting jaded (hopefully, if not I have friends and family for that.) So yeah, I’m trying to hack it from the inside, essentially.

That being said, I am still interested in fellowships in the future (Infectious Disease? Endocrine? Something Else?) and I think hospitalist will be a good transition as I build a strong foundation prior to applying to fellowship.

Okay, Talky McTalkerson, So Are You Sustainably Happy?

To me, my happiness/longevity (which I’m calling Sustainably Happy) is having freedom. By freedom, I mean the freedom to mold my career, the freedom to grow and learn as a physician, the freedom to change my life completely if I want/need to, and the freedom to be a multifaceted human of which a physician is a fundamental part but just a part. I believe, where I am now, a state school undergraduate grad, an American IMG, t-minus 5+ months left of my internal medicine residency at an unopposed community hospital, trying to be a better physician and person, currently looking for hospitalist jobs and also soul searching of what the future should look like… I believe in longevity, and I think I’m happy enough (it’s a mindset and active practice y’all), and can only see myself getting happier.

Thank you to all who read this. I hope it was at least a little bit helpful.

Cheers,

Doc Resilient

#ask #atmiger224 #doc-resilient #why internal medicine #why hospitalist #medblr #internal medicine residency #hospital medicine #internal medicine

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xtheseviolentdelightsx · 4 years

Text

Out Of The Blue

Chapter 1: Mornings at the No Doze Cafe

One of Blue’s favorite things in the entire world was her ability to walk into the No Doze coffee shop at five a.m. every…single…morning and have a mocha waiting on the counter for her with the name Doc lovingly scribbled on the side, along with her usual everything bagel and cup of yogurt. It was a truly beautiful way to start the day even when the days stretched out so long that they ran into one another.

“Morning Ash.”

She greeted her best friend with a warm smile, and no she wasn’t her best friend just because she happened to be a caffeine dealer.

“Morning Blue.”

Ashley smiled back as she looked up from stocking the front display case with decadent pastries in an array of colors that just made you kind of happy to look at.

Blue was convinced that heaven itself had sent Ashley to her in the form of a freshman roommate at Harvard. Ash was her first true friend and over time had become her sister by choice. Like many of her overachieving classmates Ash had opted their junior year to start her own business while still attending classes. Her valiant attempt at a coffee empire came in the form of the No Doze café which had inevitably become their new home. Blue had spent as many hours studying here as she had at the library and had drank her weight in coffee a rather embarrassing amount of times. Now that Blue was in the second year of her residency program she didn’t get to spend as much time here as she would like and found herself seriously missing quality time with Ash.

“What’s today Blue?”

Ash was looking her up and down, openly assessing her appearance.

“Day one.”

Blue stifled a yawn.

“I knew you looked a little less like the walking dead. How many hours last week?”

“One hundred and eight.”

Blue tugged at her chestnut curls in order to tighten her ponytail.

“It’s the scrubs that gave it away, right? The fact that they’re clean?” She snarked, green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Is this primitive torture really necessary in this day and age? I thought hazing was illegal or at least seriously frowned upon and it just seems like an awful kind of hazing. I launched a business while going to school and worked less hours.”

Ash leaned her hip against the counter, arms folded, the picture of indignation on Blue’s behalf.

It touched Blue’s heart that Ash worried about her health and well-being, she’d never had that before, someone to care and it meant the world to her.

“You’re not wrong. I’m not sure how performing medicine while propping yourself up by IV stand is a good idea but some traditions refuse to die, no matter how many times you try to stab them to death. Some ass of a Doctor probably resuscitated the tradition while it was trying to bleed out.” She finished with a half shrug and a grin.

“Only one more year, right?”

“Four hundred and eighty-three days, not that I’m counting.”

The quiet laughter behind her made Blue turn.

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to hold y’all up.”

“No hurry. I think you might need your caffeine fix more than we do Doc and that’s saying something.” The striking man smirked at her.

“Morning coffee buddy.”

“Thanks Clint, that means a lot coming from you. I know your coffee habits, I live them. Good morning.” Blue grinned and turned back to pick up her order. As she grabbed her coffee Ashley planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck, try to fit in some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Blue replied affectionately.

Ashley and Blue were used to the Avengers coming in at this point, they’d become regulars over the course of the last year. Even though they were daily flyers, Blue and Ash privately agreed that what they’d never adjust to was just how beautiful the heroes were in person. It was obnoxious really; genetics did not play fair.

Clint was the most frequent patron, often in multiple times a day. Sam, Steve and the rather intimidating Sergeant Barnes were in most mornings after their run. Others were less predictable. They figured it had to be a mix of the good coffee and the distance that brought them in, they were less likely to run into reporters or fans here. Whatever their reasons, every single damn one of them looked like a cover model and had the audacity to look that good whether it was five in the morning or midnight. On the days Blue drug herself in feeling like a certified zombie, that was seriously annoying, particularly as two of them tended to make her heart beat a little faster and she sure as hell didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

Blue fell into the comfy, overstuffed chair at her favorite table. She then engaged in the last part of her morning ritual where she tuned out the world and spent exactly twenty free, joyous minutes reading something that was neither for school nor work. It was always a mystery novel of some flavor and this weeks was Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evonivich. Interruptions to this beloved ritual were rare but this morning the quiet clearing of a throat caused her to look up.

“My apologies mam.”

Came in the form of a low rumble that threatened to make her toes curl. Blue knew he wasn’t an Angel but when she looked up at Steve Rogers, it was just a very little bit like looking into heavenly light.

“Hi Steve. What’s up?” Came out of her mouth but her internal monologue was busy running off the rails… “I am almost done with med school. I absolutely do not have time to date. He isn’t interested anyways; he’s just being nice. He’s really so very nice and kind and it would be so easy to talk to him…BUT every woman in the world probably throws themselves at his feet, with good reason, but I can do better than that, be better. I can be his friend. My pulse is not racing, my eyes will not dilate and the dopamine in my system will stay put. Friends are good. Be cool Blue.”

“Is it any good?” He gestured to the book. “I’ve picked up a couple I’ve seen you with but realized as a connoisseur it… well it would be nice to get your opinion before I bought them.” He finished with a smile and a small shrug.

“Mystery fan?” Did he just admit that he’d been watching her for weeks? That can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, they frequent the same coffee shop, they both love mysteries. He was noticing her books not her.

Steve nodded. “I love a good read.”

Blue canted her head to the side. “You know…I never go back to them. Why don’t I just pass on the good ones when I finish one?” See she could be a good friend, that was definitely an offer a friend would make.

“Are you sure? I mean that would be really great, I would seriously appreciate it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and Blue could almost swear it was a nervous gesture. That was a funny thought though, him nervous talking to a little street waif like her, highly unlikely. On the other hand, if she were standing right now, her knees would maybe be a little weak.

“Mhhmm, no problem, I’d be happy to.” Blue gave him a small smile as if it was no big, keeping her façade of cool, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like.

“Anything else?”

Steve grinned, shook his head no and made a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No Doc. I truly look forward to it, thank you.” He knew when he’d been dismissed.

Blue nodded not quite clear on what was so funny. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

Steve winced. “Steve, please. Mr. Rogers makes me sound like I host a children’s tv show.”

Blue’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“No TV allowed in Blue’s house growing up Steve. Blue there was a Mr. Rogers who hosted a famous children’s TV show. Good stuff, you’d like it actually.” Ash interjected, swooping to her rescue.

“No TV, probably why she’s a Doctor and I’m slinging coffee.”

“Oh please.” Blue laughed as she exchanged a grateful glance with Ash.

Steve’s face lit up. “Someone else who is as woefully under educated about pop culture as I am? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Blue simply shrugged in response and her eyes moved back to the page of her book so she could mask her embarrassment. She hated feeling so out of the loop, but her lack of pop culture education often left her feeling that way. Steve took that as his cue to leave. Because she wasn’t watching she missed the amused glances shot back and forth between Steve, Clint and Sergeant Barnes at her not so subtle dismissal.

The small interruption had the unfortunate side effect of killing her focus and Blue’s mind naturally started the predictable slide into work mode. Ten minutes later when her alarm went off, she was still on the same page. With a sigh she tucked her bagel into her bag, it was a habit she couldn’t shake, always carrying extra food with her. Then she shouldered the bag, picked up her trash and headed out the door. As the shop door closed behind her it set off the happy tingle of the shop bell which covered the sound of Clint’s bemused laughter.

“Poor Steve, all the women in the world falling all over you and the one you finally decide on is utterly oblivious.” Clint goo-naturedly ribbed his friend.

“Hey Ashley, you don’t think she’s aware and just playing hard to get?” Clint was kind of dying to know.

Ash bit back a laugh. “No. Her focus is laser about getting through med school. I’ve known her for six years and she hasn’t been on a single date, as far as I know. Blue’s on scholarship and takes it seriously, she has to considering her circumstances. Excuse me for a sec guys.” Ashley stepped back into the kitchen as an oven timer began to ring.

“Steve’s never had game.” Bucky spoke softly as he squeezed his partner’s arm just above the elbow. As Ash had stepped away and it was just the three of them, he laid a tender kissed on his lips. “I find it endearing.” Bucky watched fondly as a blush climbed up Steve’s neck. “He does have excellent taste though.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “It’s refreshing, honestly. She’s not any different with us than with anyone else I expect. I wonder what Ash meant about her circumstances?”

“Not sure but she just might be worth the wait. Poor woman doesn’t know what’s about to hit her if you are both intent on pursuing her.” Clint mused.

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured softly. “She’s lovely, don’t give up. I’m looking forward to our first date.”

Bucky’s recovery had come a long way since Steve had saved him but in public he still preferred to let Steve take the lead and do the talking. He remembered how things were before, how he used to be the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t that person anymore, never would be again. Steve loves him anyways and that is far more than he deserves. Steve’s happiness is paramount to him, so he’d noticed Steve’s interest in the young Doctor before Steve was even aware of it.

He’d given the situation quite a bit of thought before encouraging his partner in that direction. They’d shared women in the past but had never considered adding one to their relationship long term. He and Steve were shadow and light, yin and yang, maybe too much so. A third might make things easier on Steve and he needed to make Steve happy. He owed him that. Now if they could just get Blue to give in to her interest in Steve. Of course, Steve would pick the one girl in the free world who wasn’t ready to throw themselves at his feet. Of course, he would, but he couldn’t fault Steve his choice. The more he observed the woman, the more he found his own interest piqued.

The doctor was different. Her phone wasn’t perpetually in her hand, she wasn’t constantly distracted by technology. She had noticed them, was surprised by their presence but he’d witnessed the moment she had visibly reigned her interest in. It had been a curious act of self-control. The more he’d watched the more he found himself intrigued and admittedly attracted. Unfortunately, their courtship seemed to be moving as slow as snail mail.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve fic #stucky

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