but hope this is okaaay

anonymous asked:

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”


“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”


Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

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anonymous asked:

Cou,d you write a luke one where he's in med school & you meet at a coffee shop & luke gets all nervous when asking you out? Your writing is really good!

masterlist | request

Luke never really had a problem impressing girls; once the words ‘med school’ fell into the conversation the intent of their eyes usually shifted from bored to seductive — but he was never really interested to begin with. It was on nights he was dragged from his room, away from textbooks and online journals, that he’d be forced by his far more boisterous roommate Calum to attempt finding a girl to spend the night with.

That wasn’t really his thing, though — he didn’t really have time for that. He needed to focus if he was going to specialise in surgery and his study load looked far more like an unconquerable mountain than anything.

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Running Out Of Time ||Closed RP with TheKillerNextDoor

Jeff sighed as he had finished his work, on his way out as he placed his wrist down to a small metal object, it giving him 30 more minutes as a payment. He left with a small sigh as he looked around. In this world you had time on your hand, or wrist to be more exact. It goes like 100:00:00, once you are born it stops- it doesn’t start counting down before you turn 18 and then it will say how many years you have left to live as it slowly count down. After you turn 25, you stop ageing- so no one in this world have wrinkles or look old. In this world there isn’t money, only time. You pay with your life, you pay 15 minutes of your life to take the bus. You pay 2 hours of your life to buy food for the week, you gain seconds/minutes/hours/years by working- some gamble and are lucky to gain more, other dies from it.

You can give your time to other to keep them living longer, but once the time goes 00:00:00 your heart stops and you die with no possible way to regain life. That’s the life Jeff had, though in all secret he had his own way to gain time- but that was something he didn’t tell anyone. The only one who knew, was his friend who always joined him in that event. His friend that looks almost alike as himself with the same name.

| Delusions |


“SAAAANS. Please wait.” Papyrus screeched from several paces behind. There were few times in which Sans naturally moved faster than his brother, but nights the terrors came on too strong this time. Their home setting was just too overwhelming to stay in while it was all fresh in his mind.

“i’m fine, papyrus.” He called back, almost annoyed. Sure Sans knew his brother was just worried, but so was he. What if he hadn’t really woke up yet and ended up doing something he’d regret?

“OH. My! Are you alright?!” Sans heard, the direction of the question wasn’t towards him anymore and he could tell. The perfect distraction, Sans kept on walking through the snowy forest like nothing happened. He desperately needed to calm down.

Kneeling beside the fallen being, Papyrus lifted their head while calling to them in attempt to wake them. His brother’s urgency caused him to stop.

why, why now of all times… Sans thought with a depressed sigh as he simply teleported to his brother’s side, left eye glowing a faint blue from the use of his magic. 

oh gee, why is it herWas the only thing that came to Sans’ mind when he saw the girl. Shrinking down into his hood, he let Papyrus take care of her. Who she was exactly, Sans didn’t know, he simply clung to what he’d seen from afar, it was never a comforting sight either.

“We have got to help, Sans!” Papyrus said as he picked her up, turning on his heel to march back to the house. Sans’ only response was silence, following begrudgingly behind his brother.

No time was left for Papyrus to try and get Sans to help once they’d entered the house. Promptly and with out a word he just went right up to his room and locked the door behind him before face falling into the heap that was his bed. All that was going on in Sans’ head was pleading for the images his nightmare produced to go away..


Inspired to do this because of fiestar’s one more mv /cries, dnt laugh at me.. i just had to do a photoshoot like this because the mv has been eating me for days now
I might not be as pretty or as cute as them but I tried ;A;


i’m loving angels instead
pairing: louis tomlinson/nick grimshaw
rating: nc-17
tags: angel!louis, alternative universe, smut, death (almost), angst, falling in love, dumb boys,
summary: Nick blinks again, wondering just how drained of caffeine he is and how badly he needs it or if he is just still sleeping and dreaming because unless his eyes are seriously messing with him, the man in front of him, still panting, curled up, and very naked, also has a pair of white, feathery wings attached to his back, just below his shoulder blades.

When Nick is about to get into work, he is late and it’s not his fault. When an angel shows up in front of you, you are allowed to be late. And angels, well angels can bring trouble.
notes: i got this idea and had originally planned it like a short thing, but it’s finished now at 14k. i hope you will like it, i liked writing it! i want to say thank you to my darling emmy // @zarryffs for editing, encouraging and making a manip, and to @reachthetree @stereokink and bea whom tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, for reading and making me feel happy about the story :)