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#stitch & ani
digitalmyyth · 1 year
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Love looking at fanart of red guy love that the way people draw him is on a scale like this
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sacchiri · 1 month
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Blu-ray box set for OVA 1~5 and 6~10 illustrated by Kouta Hirano.
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Novice sewing pattern: Cut out shapes. Line up the little triangles on the edges. Stitch edges together. We've also included step-by-step assembly instructions with illustrations.
Novice knitting pattern: yOU MUSt uNDerstANd thE SECret cOdE CO67 (73, 87, 93) BO44 (63, 76, 90) 28 (32, 34) slip first pw repeat 7x K to end *kl (pl) 42 * until 13" (13, 13, 15) join new at 30 pl for 17 rows ssk 27 k2tog mattress lengthwise BO and sacrifice a goat to the knitting gods. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT "INSTRUCTIONS," I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU
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abbeyofcyn · 9 months
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Messy doodles
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Anatomy of Alastors demonic forms
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spilledjelly · 3 months
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They’re hanging out
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steddieas-shegoes · 4 days
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cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)
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Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.
He didn’t know exactly what that was about.
They had him on a lot of good drugs.
But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.
He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.
But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?
Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.
Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.
Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.
He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.
When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.
It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.
He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.
He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.
He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.
Maybe this time they would finish the job.
“Eddie!”
Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.
“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.
Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.
He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.
“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.
Eddie believed him.
He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.
If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
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Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.
And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.
Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.
It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.
Maybe he did care.
But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.
So he stayed quiet, still.
He watched.
He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.
He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.
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“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.
“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.
It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.
The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.
But now it’s all he felt.
The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.
Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.
Steve didn’t come.
Eddie didn’t sleep.
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He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.
He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.
Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.
“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.
“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”
Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”
“Steve-“
“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?
He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.
“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”
“Then they aren’t looking.”
Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”
“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.
“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”
“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”
“No. Are you?”
“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”
Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.
“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”
“Just today?”
“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”
“And what? Every day after that?”
Steve smirked.
His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.
“If that’s what I have to do.”
They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.
But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.
Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.
Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.
But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.
Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.
And Eddie could trust him today.
He could probably trust him tomorrow.
“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.
But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.
It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.
But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.
At least until tomorrow.
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spocks-kaathyra · 8 months
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thoughts about the Cardassian writing system
I've thinking about the Cardassian script as shown on screen and in beta canon and such and like. Is it just me or would it be very difficult to write by hand?? Like.
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I traced some of this image for a recent drawing I did and like. The varying line thicknesses?? The little rectangular holes?? It's not at all intuitive to write by hand. Even if you imagine, like, a different writing implement—I suppose a chisel-tip pen would work better—it still seems like it wasn't meant to be handwritten. Which has a few possible explanations.
Like, maybe it's just a fancy font for computers, and handwritten text looks a little different. Times New Roman isn't very easily written by hand either, right? Maybe the line thickness differences are just decorative, and it's totally possible to convey the same orthographic information with the two line thicknesses of a chisel-tip pen, or with no variation in line thickness at all.
A more interesting explanation, though, and the one I thought of first, is that this writing system was never designed to be handwritten. This is a writing system developed in Cardassia's digital age. Maybe the original Cardassian script didn’t digitize well, so they invented a new one specifically for digital use? Like, when they invented coding, they realized that their writing system didn’t work very well for that purpose. I know next to nothing about coding, but I cannot imagine doing it using Chinese characters. So maybe they came up with a new writing system that worked well for that purpose, and when computer use became widespread, they stuck with it. 
Or maybe the script was invented for political reasons! Maybe Cardassia was already fairly technologically advanced when the Cardassian Union was formed, and, to reinforce a cohesive national identity, they developed a new standardized national writing system. Like, y'know, the First Emperor of Qin standardizing hanzi when he unified China, or that Korean king inventing hangul. Except that at this point in Cardassian history, all official records were digital and typing was a lot more common than handwriting, so the new script was designed to be typed and not written. Of course, this reform would be slower to reach the more rural parts of Cardassia, and even in a technologically advanced society, there are people who don't have access to that technology. But I imagine the government would be big on infrastructure and education, and would make sure all good Cardassian citizens become literate. And old regional scripts would stop being taught in schools and be phased out of digital use and all the kids would grow up learning the digital script.
Which is good for the totalitarian government! Imagine you can only write digitally. On computers. That the government can monitor. If you, like, write a physical letter and send it to someone, then it's possible for the contents to stay totally private. But if you send an email, it can be very easily intercepted. Especially if the government is controlling which computers can be manufactured and sold, and what software is in widespread use, etc. 
AND. Historical documents are now only readable for scholars. Remember that Korean king that invented hangul? Before him, Korea used to use Chinese characters too. And don't get me wrong, hangul is a genius writing system! It fits the Korean language so much better than Chinese characters did! It increased literacy at incredible rates! But by switching writing systems, they broke that historical link. The average literate Chinese person can read texts that are thousands of years old. The average literate Korean person can't. They'd have to specifically study that field, learn a whole new writing system. So with the new generation of Cardassian youths unable to read historical texts, it's much easier for the government to revise history. The primary source documents are in a script that most people can't read. You just trust the translation they teach you in school. In ASIT it's literally a crucial plot point that the Cardassian government revised history! Wouldn't it make it soooo much easier for them if only very few people can actually read the historical accounts of what happened.
I guess I am thinking of this like Chinese characters. Like, all the different Chinese "dialects" being written with hanzi, even though otherwise they could barely be considered the same language. And even non-Sinitic languages that historically adopted hanzi, like Japanese and Korean and Vietnamese. Which worked because hanzi is a logography—it encodes meaning, not sound, so the same word in different languages can be written the same. It didn’t work well! Nowadays, Japanese has made significant modifications and Korean has invented a new writing system entirely and Vietnamese has adapted a different foreign writing system, because while hanzi could write their languages, it didn’t do a very good job at it. But the Cardassian government probably cares more about assimilation and national unity than making things easier for speakers of minority languages. So, Cardassia used to have different cultures with different languages, like the Hebitians, and maybe instead of the Union forcing everyone to start speaking the same language, they just made everyone use the same writing system. Though that does seem less likely than them enforcing a standard language like the Federation does. Maybe they enforce a standard language, and invent the new writing system to increase literacy for people who are newly learning it.
And I can imagine it being a kind of purely digital language for some people? Like if you’re living on a colonized planet lightyears away from Cardassia Prime and you never have to speak Cardassian, but your computer’s interface is in Cardassian and if you go online then everyone there uses Cardassian. Like people irl who participate in the anglophone internet but don’t really use English in person because they don’t live in an anglophone country. Except if English were a logographic writing system that you could use to write your own language. And you can’t handwrite it, if for whatever reason you wanted to. Almost a similar idea to a liturgical language? Like, it’s only used in specific contexts and not really in daily life. In daily life you’d still speak your own language, and maybe even handwrite it when needed. I think old writing systems would survive even closer to the imperial core (does it make sense to call it that?), though the government would discourage it. I imagine there’d be a revival movement after the Fire, not only because of the cultural shift away from the old totalitarian Cardassia, but because people realize the importance of having a written communication system that doesn’t rely on everyone having a padd and electricity and wifi.
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princessrainbowpastel · 2 months
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(Credit for the Hades x Persephone art goes to razzberrypopcans! 🥰 also sorry for the repost! was trying to update the original and it glitched out on me so I had to delete it 😅)
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mrvelocipede · 4 months
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I had carefully put away all of my knitting stuff before the holidays, partly because it was taking up space that I needed for entertaining, but mainly because The Relatives are incredibly good at making me feel stupid and terrible about whatever projects I've been working on. Nothing destroys my motivation and interest in a thing more effectively than having to make small talk about it with people who have spent my entire life not understanding me.
In the last few days, I've been trying to get back to knitting mode, and finish the cable pattern I was in the middle of, but it's a tough slog to drag myself out of the holiday pit, so I decided to cast on a small, frivolous thing to try to get my brain to engage.
It could be a sort of companion to my existing pineapple bag, and smaller strawberry bag (which I don't think I've even posted pictures of, because I am going to get the pattern written first, dammit!). I had a little bit of leftover sock yarn that was the right colors, and I figured I could mess around with some short rows for the shaping.
And it's working!
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Except that when it's not next to actual real-life fruit, it looks exactly as silly and rude as you'd think, and the movement of the needles as it's being knit makes it wave itself around in the most appalling way.
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basilpaste · 2 months
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Liar.
ill post these outside of an ask, why not.
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gummi-ships · 3 months
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Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep - A Fragmentary Passage - Depths of Darkness
#kingdom hearts 0.2 birth by sleep a fragmentary passage#kh0.2#depths of darkness#realm of darkness#my gif#they did a good job making the realm of darkness look distinct from the realm of light#because this place really does feel like nowhere we've ever been before#the rocky pathways with no sign of organic life make me feel like i'm on the moon or an alien planet#it's interesting how fallen worlds feel like they're all stitched together between areas like this#aqua can simply walk from place to place without needing a ship or keyblade glider to fly her to a new world#though who's to say how long it takes her to do all of that#as if the realm of darkness is one big ever growing expanse of land without any known boundaries between worlds#we know that all worlds used to be connected in the realm of light long ago and i'm guessing that's the case in the realm of darkness#it's never been split or fractured by keyblade wielders so it still follows its own rules and laws of nature#that'd be pretty interesting#we see this area start as a rocky wasteland that transitions into flat sandy terrain from the destiny islands#but you have to walk through a huge blinding light to get there first which is really unusual#it makes me think of how terra and aqua were guided to destiny islands by a bright light#and how destiny islands appears as a ball of light on the world select menu in bbs#but why portray it that way? we've been shown before what the world of destiny islands looks like from afar with the CoM world cards#and it's not like they even needed to include it on the world select screen in bbs because it's not a world you can even visit on your own#i don't know what it's all supposed to mean yet but#i believe the islands are more significant than we know at this time and this game continues to raise a lot of questions#it's certainly called 'destiny' islands for a reason
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solarpunkani · 4 months
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PROGRESS!!!!!!
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heianera · 5 months
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medical malpractice has never looked so beautiful! 💉🩸 (stitched & unstitched versions)
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0xeyedaisy · 5 months
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I've seen ppl make Orin Ayo ocs and thought I also wanted to join in on the fun! Plus a little out of context meme
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Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 2
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Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader
Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe
Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?
Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, Swearing. No use of Y/N.
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: A huge thank you to every single person that’s read the story so far, y’all are literally my primary motivation to keep writing. I love writing with my whole heart and knowing that someone else is enjoying it??? That’s insane to me so thank you so much for all the support, comments, reblogs, and likes, it means the whole world ❤️
Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
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You lean against the counter in the exam room, giving Jake’s chart one last once-over while you wait for him to come back from the showers. There’s nothing in there detailing any recent injuries and your suspicion increases. You’re still weighing your options when the door opens and Jake saunters in, clad in a simple Dogfighters t-shirt and sweats, his hair still wet from the shower. He heads over to the exam table and pops up onto it, leaning to rest his palms on his knees.
“So Bugs, let’s get to it.” You give him a confused look.
“Bugs?”
“Yup.” He fails to elaborate but his eyes tell you he’s waiting for you to catch on to some joke you’re unaware of.
“I don’t get it. Why’re you calling me Bugs?”
“What’s up, Doc?” He says with a grin in a poor imitation of Bugs Bunny that makes a smile spread over your face, your worry temporarily forgotten. “You work for a hockey team now, Bugs, you need a nickname. So Bugs Bunny, or Bugs for short. Unless you’d rather I call you Bunny.” He waggles his eyebrows at you playfully. You feel your cheeks flush at his teasing. “So, what do you think, Bugs?”
“I think it’s a good thing you’re good at hockey.” You laugh nervously, as your mind comes back to the task at hand. You clasp your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking as you steady yourself for what you’re about to do. “Let’s get down to business shall we?” He nods, settling back on the table. “As I mentioned earlier, today we’re just going to be doing a standard physical, nothing special, but before we start, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” You watch him stiffen, his carefree, flirty demeanor now wary. It makes your heart ache. As a doctor, seeing your patients in pain has always been hard for you, but you trust your ability to alleviate it. To do that for Jake, though, he’d have to trust in you too. “During the introduction, I mentioned that the only way I can fully be of service to you as your physician is if we trust each other enough to be honest with each other.” You swallowed, crossing your arms across your chest, steeling yourself before you brought your eyes to look straight into his stormy ones. “So that being said I need to know, what’re we working with? A groin pull? An MCL pull or tear maybe?”
You had prepared for a lot of different reactions from Jake but the shock on his face wasn’t one of them. His mouth had fallen open and you couldn’t help the way your eyes caught on his slightly chapped pink lips.
“Jake?” You whisper gently like you’re trying not to spook a horse.
It breaks him out of his stupor. “What the fuck?” It sounds like it’s been punched out of his lungs. “How the fuck? How the fuck could you possibly?” His chest is starting to rise and fall rapidly and you push off the counter, his chart abandoned as you place your hands on both of his broad shoulders, crowding his space as you coach him gently.
“Jake, I need you to breathe for me, can you do that? In, and hold, and out.” You guide him through the breathing, his eyes on the floor on yours on the top of his head, watching water droplets slide along the strands until finally, his breathing evens out. You take your hands off his shoulders and drop to squat in front of him, catching his eyes where his head is still hung. “Talk to me, Jake, I can help. Let me help.” You’re not sure when you took his hand in yours as you realize you’re rubbing gentle circles in the skin. Nothing about that is professional but then again neither is accusing a multimillionaire athlete with a fantastic legal team of lying about a serious injury, so you’re 0 for 2.
“How, how did you know?” He whispers, and your heart breaks at the hesitation and fear in his voice. “Who told you? Did my old physician call you? Did my publicist?” His voice gets louder with each question, raising with his frustration. He runs the hand you’re not holding through his wet hair angrily, stray water droplets raining down over you.
You shake your head. “No, no Jake, no one told me, I just… I just knew.” He brings his eyes back to you, accusation shining hotly in them.
“How, Bugs? Explain how you ‘just knew’.”
“I…” you hesitate, embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you realize you’re going to have to explain yourself. You sit back on your heels to get comfortable, letting go of Jake’s hand to fiddle with your own. “So we had this game of sorts at my fellowship during the playoffs. Since if athletes get injured during the playoffs there’s a high chance it doesn’t get revealed until the season’s over, those of us who got together to watch the games made a game out of it. We’re sports doctors, right? So it’s our job to be able to diagnose athletes quickly and efficiently. So we would make notes of potential injuries each game and if we were right and they got announced after the season we’d ‘win’ and basically yeah we’d bet on how valid we thought each other’s diagnoses were.”
You sigh, remembering that night. “It was the Conference Finals, game 4 against the Ducks. You were fighting some defenseman from the Ducks who was getting too pushy with covering you, your legs got tangled and then you went down. Your legs stretched a weird way and then you went off the ice for your penalty and then you were benched for the next half of that period. I knew something was wrong. Everyone else thought your coach just wanted you to cool your head. I guessed either a groin pull or something with your MCL. Then the season ended and nothing came out about the injury. I just couldn’t shake it though, this feeling that I was right.” You shake your head. “Then, you show up here and you’re giving me these weird looks every time I mention the physical and then shuffling around when I mentioned injuries during my speech so I decided to take a chance. I know it’s extremely unprofessional to accuse you of hiding an injury but I meant it when I said it, I care about your health and I just want to help you, Jake, and I can, but only if you’re honest with me.” You let out a huff, waiting for Jake to respond, too nervous to raise your eyes from his sneakers to watch his reaction.
“Well I’ll be damned, Bugs.” You look up at that to see the curiosity and awe in his face. “That’s really something.”
“So,” you put on a small smile. “Are you gonna let me help you, Jake?”
His eyes dim at that. “Bugs, I can’t let you do that.” You can’t help the scowl that contorts your face.
“And why not, Jake? You’d rather throw the rest of your career, and maybe your life, away than ask me for help?” You’re trying to understand, you really are, but he’s just so stubborn and you can’t understand why. “We have time now, there’s two months until the start of the season, and if you let me help you, you can play, you can even stay on the first line, but time is not our friend, Jake you need to trust me, sooner rather than later.”
“If I let you help, it goes in my chart, and if it goes in my chart, it goes by Maverick and Simpson. And if that happens, I get benched.”
“What part of, if I help you, you won’t get benched, was not in English, Seresin?” You’re done being the nice guy.
“You can’t guarantee that. My last physician said I’d have to spend half the next season riding the bench, that I’d be lucky to make the third line.” It occurs to you that maybe this is why he left Dallas.
“Maybe if you let me look at it, I could give you MY opinion?” Irritation creases your face.
“If you look at it, that means scans, that means evidence, and I can’t have a trail of medical records leading the higher-ups to this, I could get fired for it.” He thinks he’s being reasonable, you can see it in his eyes, but he’s being anything but. It’s wearing down every one of your nerve endings and it’s not even noon on your first day, you’re going to snap.
“You put me out five hundred bucks!” You shout, seething and you don’t care if he sees anymore. His face shifts into confusion for a second as he processes what you’ve just yelled before he bursts out laughing at your attack out of left field. He throws his head back as he does it, and it’s a deep laugh, from the bottommost parts of his belly, but you can’t enjoy it with how furious you are.
“If it’s the money you’re looking for, Bugsy, I can write you a check right now.” He says, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Only later do you wonder when the last time he laughed that hard was.
“Seresin, get the fuck out of my exam room.” Your voice is cold, monotone, exacting, and you’re doing everything you can to maintain your paper-thin composure. At your change in tone, his grin fades as he realizes you don’t find this as funny as he does.
“W-What?” He stammers nervously, confused by your request.
“I said, get the fuck out of my exam room, Seresin.” You stand up and his head follows you holding your eyes with his.
“But what about the physical?”
“I can’t examine a patient that doesn’t want to be examined, and I’m sure as hell not lying on a physical report, because then I’ll get fired, and unlike you, Mr. Seresin, I can’t afford to just go somewhere else. So, I’m going to ask you one more time, get the fuck out of my exam room. We can reschedule your physical when you’re ready to be transparent with me. Thank you for your time.” You purse your lips into a straight line as you collect his chart and your laptop from the counter, opening the door, and holding it open for him. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched on the exam table so you heave a sigh and head out yourself, calling back, “I’m going to get my next patient Mr. Seresin, you better be gone when I get back,” before letting the door swing shut behind you as head off to the gym where the players are doing their individual workouts.
“Javy Machado, you’re up.” You call across the gym, as you make your way to the shirtless dark-skinned man at the leg press, you tap his sweaty bare shoulder to get his attention and he pulls out his headphones.
“Sorry, miss, what’s up?”
“You’re up, Machado.” You smile, trying to regain your professionalism after the number Jake did on you. He returns the smile but you can see the confusion in his eyes.
“Already, miss? You’re done with Jake?”
“Mr. Seresin had something come up and had to reschedule. I’m not at liberty to say anything else.” You give him a tight-lipped smile and his brow furrows in concern as he gets up, wiping his face with a towel before putting his t-shirt back on and following you back to the exam room. Thankfully, Jake had left and you take your place at the counter, placing your computer back down and replacing Jake’s file in the rack, removing Javy’s instead.
“Ma’am?” you look up to see Javy fidgeting with his hands where he’s sat on the exam table.
“What’s on your mind, Javy?” You lean against the counter.
“I know you said you’re not at liberty to say but I have to try, okay? Is Jake okay?” Your heart breaks at the pain and helplessness in his voice. He cares so much and suddenly you’re angry at Jake all over again for hurting his best friend this way, your mind drifting back to the conversation you had with Natasha earlier.
“Honestly, Javy? I don’t know.” You shake your head, a tired laugh escaping your lips. “He won’t talk to me, and honestly I was hoping to get some answers from you but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you’re just as in the dark about what’s going on here.”
“So his physical?”
“I refused to do it until he’s ready to be honest with me. Since the team is still new we don’t have a designated mental health professional, so I’m responsible for all aspects of your health right now and I refuse to submit an incorrect or incomplete report.”
“And and if he doesn’t?”
You shrug, exhausted. “He can’t play without a physical.” You set your jaw. “I know it sounds ridiculous in the grand scheme of things but if I let a sick player on the ice, that would break every code I’m bound to, personal and professional.”
“No,” Javy shakes his head. “You’re right, that’s what he needs. I think it’s been a while since someone told him no, it’ll be good for him.” He gives you a rueful smile and you chuckle.
“You’re a good friend, Javy.”
“So is Jake,” he gives you an apologetic look, “at least he usually is.”
“I’m sure he is.” You say, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sure he is.”
***
The next morning at warmups, you stand beside Maverick as he gives the team a rundown of his plans for the day. You’ll be continuing the process of giving physicals today. You’d gotten through the first line yesterday with the exception of Jake and the rookie goalie, Bob, who you’d be starting with today since the goalie coach was visibly missing from the rink.
“And before we break, Bugs has an announcement for you guys.” It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours but Jake’s nickname had spread like wildfire and you can��t help but think back to your conversation with Zam yesterday.
You clap your hands together as twenty pairs of eyes turn to you. “Great job with the physicals yesterday you guys, not only has it been a good chance to familiarize myself with you as patients, but also a great opportunity to get to know you as coworkers. I really appreciate how patient you’ve been with me. I hope that attitude can continue going forward into the season. That being said, I know there has been some grumbling about these physicals since they seem like a waste of time since you get them done every year, but I would like to remind you all that a current physical with me is a requirement to play for the team come October. And since I want these done as soon as possible, if you don’t have a valid physical by the end of next week, I’ll be forced to give my professional opinion to Mav and Beau that you aren’t fit to play for the team.” You could’ve heard a pin drop in the arena. You could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes in your head, but you refused to acknowledge them, refusing to even invite suggestions that he was the cause of the issue. You had patient confidentiality to uphold no matter what other games you had to play to achieve compliance. “Okay, boys that’s it, Bob you’re with me.” The goalie flashes you a thumbs-up before lumbering off to the locker room to shed his equipment. You go on ahead to prep for his physical, stopping by your office to grab your laptop and today’s stack of files.
You almost jump when you push the door to the exam room open to see a sweaty Jake Seresin leaning against the exam table still in his gear and skates, arms crossed over his chest, brows drawn together in a frown. His eyes follow you across the room and you head over to the counter and start getting set up for Bob. Finally, when it becomes clear that he’s not going to volunteer anything, you turn to face him, fighting the urge to cross your arms across your chest and immediately go on the defensive. He’s a patient. He needs your help. He deserves your grace. You repeat in your mind as you force your best professional smile. “Mr. Seresin, what can I do for you?”
He scowls at you, whether it’s for the title or your nonchalant tone, acting like you don’t know why he’s here when technically you really don’t. You have your suspicions and your hopes, but he could very well be here to inquire how good you are juggling, for example. Not good.
“I told you to call me Jake.”
“Well I told you to be honest with me, so I guess we’re even.” You can’t help it, you turn into an immature child in front of him, your professionalism taking a dive out the nearest window. His glare deepens. “Now if you have something to say to me, get it out because Bob’s scheduled to be here any minute now.”
“He hit the showers.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He shifts on his feet. “Listen, we need to talk about your little stipulation.”
“It’s not my stipulation if it’s literally in your contract, now is it?”
“But-“
“No ‘buts,’ Jake, you need a physical to play and I’m not forging one for you. I’m telling you now that no matter what happens, I will give you my 110% to get you back to full health, whether you come to me now or when you’ve run out of options or stubbornness. I don’t care what your last physician told you, I’m telling you, I will do everything in my power to help you, but for this to work, you have to trust me.”
He shakes his head ruefully. “I don’t get it. Why do it like this? Why haven’t you just gone to Mav and told him what’s going on? He’s got a laundry list of things he could hold over my head to get me to comply to a true physical.”
You chuckle at that. “Three reasons, Jake. First, I’m a grown woman and a fully licensed physician, I can solve my own problems and I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to run to my boss every time a patient throws a tantrum. I learn to catch. Second, that would be a violation of your doctor-patient confidentiality since you didn’t consent to me sharing that information with Mav, for example by informing me during your physical and me, in turn, putting it in your chart at which point it becomes privy to Mav and the other higher-ups who have access to your chart. And third, something more important than a breach in doctor-patient confidentiality would be a breach of your trust. When you step into this room, give me the privilege of your time, and submit yourself to my opinions and care, you trust me to do everything within my power to help you and I trust you to give me everything I need to be able to do my job. If I break that trust, for example, by going over your head instead of settling this like adults, then I can’t expect you to hold up your end of the burden and I can’t be of help to you. Does that make sense?” He’s quiet, turning your words over in his head you assume. Before he can say anything, the door opens and Bob walks in, freshly showered, stopping the moment he sees Jake. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” He asks nervously, eyes shifting from Jake still in full gear to you. You give him a small smile in return.
“Could you just step outside and give us a second, Bob? We’ll just be a minute.” He nods and heads back out, the door swinging shut behind him. Jake is still silent, so you reach into the pocket of your coat and pull out a Ziploc bag, before crossing the room over to Jake. “Take your time and think about what I just said. At the end of the day, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, and while I have a preference, I’ll do what I have to do. In the meantime,” you extend your hand to him, the Ziploc dangling from your hand revealing the dog treats inside. “Tell Pudding I said hi.” Jake’s eyebrows shoot straight up as he looks at you in confusion.
“How did you-?”
You shrug. “I research all my patients, it helps me find possible points of relatability with them and start building a relationship. Plus Jake, you’re a celebrity and that adorable dog is in literally every single one of your Instagram posts. I may be your physician, but I’m not Amish.” You say with a smirk, passing him the bag and patting him on the shoulder. He takes this as his cue to leave and straightens, heading for the door. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to his right leg, trying your best to see through his facade but you have to hand it to him, he’s doing a damn good job hiding the pain.
“Thanks, Bugs.” He says in farewell and you smile, giving him a nod before he disappears and Bob comes in. He and Jake exchange a look and nod as they pass each other.
When the door clicks shut, Bob ambles over to the exam table, seating himself on the edge before facing you, a grim expression on his face. “Everything okay, Bob?” You ask. You’ve only ever seen the rookie goalie smiling.
“How’s his leg?” Bob blurts out the question and your eyebrows shoot straight up before you can stop them.
“Bob, I’m not at liberty to discuss my other patients.”
“Yeah, I know that but-“
“How do you know about his leg?” You’re dying to know. You know you just talked a big game about trust with Jake but your desire to know more about his condition is winning against your conscience right now. you’re only human, and every part of you wants to know how this rookie goalie who met Jake less than twenty-four hours ago as far you know already knows about his leg when his best friend doesn’t.
Bob rubs the back of his neck. “I have a bachelor’s in kinesiology and I’m a goalie.” He shrugs. “I spend a good portion of my time standing and watching, so I notice things. He hasn’t said anything to me, and he does a good job hiding it, but on the ice, I’d say he’s too preoccupied with the game to keep up appearances as well. But I can tell he shouldn’t be playing on it.” He shakes his head. “There’s no way Mav knows or else he wouldn’t be on the ice, but it’s only a matter of time before he finds out.” You nod along. It turns out Bob Floyd is full of surprises.
You hesitate before you respond. “I know as much as you do, Bob. I noticed it too, but Jake’s straight up refusing my help and I don’t know why. You’re right, Mav has no idea and I can’t break confidentiality to tell him without losing what little if any trust Jake has in me.”
Bob nods, “I had a feeling you knew after your announcement this morning. Did he really refuse the physical?”
“Not exactly, more like he refused an honest one, and I refused to give a dishonest one.”
“You’re really good at your job, Bugs, you know that right?” The unexpected gentle words from the goalie have tears threatening to blur your vision, you shake your head trying to hold them back, lowering your head to focus on a point on the floor.
“If I was good at my job, I wouldn’t be in this position.”
You look up when you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. “Bugs, it’s because you’re good at your job that you’re in this position. Unfortunately, there are plenty of doctors that would have just done what Jake wants, either because they don’t care or they’re too worried about getting sued by a multimillionaire athlete.” A watery chuckle forces its way past your lips. “You’re doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.” It takes everything not to hurl yourself into his arms and weep because this is what you’ve needed for months. One person telling you that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re good at your job, that what you’re doing matters, and here is someone who’s supposed to be your patient, healing a part of you.
“Thanks, Bob, I think I really needed to hear that.” You say, trying your best not to notice how your voice wobbles.
“Don’t mention it, Bugs, just trying to help.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes in a half-hug like he can tell you need it, and you don’t even notice that it doesn’t make you feel queasy.
“Hey, Bob? If the hockey thing doesn’t work out? I think you’d make one hell of a doctor.” He laughs and you giggle as you straighten and grab his chart. “Let’s get started shall we?”
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A/N: Bugs is just doing her best 🥲 BestFriend!Bob is my favorite Bob and I will die on that hill. To everyone who’s had questions I hope this sated at least a little bit of your curiosity. When authors say that our characters have a mind of their own, we really do mean it… but I love writing the story they tell me.
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