i think she needs a doctor

see, like, missy has been a very touchy character in this regen?

she snogs the doctor, and constantly rests her arm around him/on his shoulder (outside st paul’s, and once she’s free on the plane, to name a few times), and just holding on to him for dear life when he kisses her in the graveyard. she wraps her arm around osgood. in s9, she reaches into clara’s personal space to make her have the vortex manipulator, and she sits very closely to the doctor in the ship.

getting into people’s personal spaces is a very quick and effective way to make them very uncomfortable, and she uses this to her advantage to scare osgood, and her just being nearby people makes them nervous.

the scene in which she reaches for the doctor (and to me she looks like she’s reaching to fix his coat, like in s8 with the unit/cybermen in the square scene),  he steps back, and it shows she wants to be near him and touch him for her own comfort, not to make him uncomfortable. she instantly stops, and freezes and looks down and laces her fingers together, kinda shakily. she doesn’t continue her attempt, which is something the old her might have done - stepping forward and not allowing a rejection in the first place.

[gif from @the-clever-boy-in-the-funny-hat​]

12 recognizes, however, how much she needs that contact, but isn’t ready to give it. he’s not much of a hugging person, but he understands that she needs that from him, so he does what he can. her reaction to this, like she’s taking a breath, about to speak, is so fundamental. she knows he’s trying to help her too, but doesn’t know how to convey how much she needs it without embarrassing herself/acting ooc.

i feel that missy really needs that hug. she really, really needs it. even just from bill. she hasn’t really had physical contact with anyone in years, presumably, and that does things to a person whose character revolves a lot around it. she’s restraining herself so much.

Jerome Valeska x Reader: Daddy’s Little Doctor

Originally posted by evaalterrr

omg i got so excited at it i can’t even….. ugh. not only because i got an another request but also because this is an amazing idea and i’m in love with this, i think i need to change some things that were a little unclear to me but i hope you will like it anyway

sorry if it’s too short to your liking, & please let me know what you think
REQUESTS ARE  O P E N

PART TWO


[Y/N] was a pretty 15 year old girl, who liked spending her free time in her dad’s work. Jim Gordon’s work. She’d go there everyday after school.


She wanted to work at the GCPD in the future, not as a cop, but as a doctor, just like Doctor Leslie Thompkins. [Y/N] was a very smart girl, so everybody believed she would accomplish her goal.

[Y/N] enjoyed being with Doctor Lee, and as you may wonder, Doctor Lee enjoyed being with [Y/N]. She reminded her of herself when she was younger, so she was happy to answer any questions this sweet girl had.

“Harvey! Do you know where Doctor Thompkins is?" 

[Y/N]’s been looking for her, she wanted to watch her work, as always. At first she wasn’t sure if that’s okay with her but she said she enjoys her company, much to [Y/N]’s joy.

"I don’t know, kiddo, check the morgue.” Answered busy Harvey Dent petting her on the head and walking away.

[Y/N] was walking to the morgue as she heard two cops talking about Jerome Valeska. They didn’t have a chance to meet but she saw him, that day when they found his dead mother. Dead because of him.  

His cult was trying to bring him back from the dead…

“Can you believe he’s lying in the morgue right now with no face on?!”

“Shut up, this is disgusting.”

[Y/N] could agree on that. It seriously gave her chills.

But still, it didn’t change the fact she wanted to see how he looked now. She would never admit it to anyone, but she thought he was kinda cute. When he had a face and was still breathing, though.

[Y/N] entered the room humming a song she always does.  

“Doctor Le–” she stopped dead in her tracks.

Before her, Lee Thompkins sitting on a table, tied up, looking over her should to see who just came in, worry filled her eyes as she noticed it’s [Y/N]. And there it was Jerome Valeska, standing across from Doctor Lee, his face all bloody and bandaged smiling widely at [Y/N]. He was wearing something very skin-tight…

“Hi there. Care to join us, Sweetheart?” Jerome walked towards her.

Now as he took a better look at her, he noticed she looked younger than him.

“Don’t cha a little too young to work here?”

[Y/N] only shrugged and gulped as he started to tie her up and told her to sit beside Lee.

They looked at each other, Lee’s gaze looked like it was asking her “Why did you have to come here exactly right now?!”

Jerome not interested in Lee anymore, moved to kneel before the pretty girl and looked into her eyes.

“Do you know where is my face, Precious?”

She stared at him. “Yeah… I heard Dwight took it and that he wears it like a mask..” She made a disgusted face.

Jerome exhaled deeply. “At least he’s a handsome fella now.”

[Y/N] cracked a small smile trying not to giggle. She didn’t want Doctor Lee to think she’s stupid.

Jerome glanced back at Lee and then back to [Y/N] and cupped her cheek. 

“Now tell me, what exactly are you doing here?  You can’t possibly be working here, you look young. How old are you anyway, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Umm..” She was unsure if she should tell him but he had something in his eyes that screamed “tell me all about you!”

“I don’t work here, I’m 15 years old. My dad is working here.”

“Don’t tell him that [Y/N]!”

“[Y/N]? Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He smirked and reached for something to gag Doctor Lee. “Who’s your dad? I’m dying to know.”

“James Gordon.”

He started laughing like crazy. “James Gordon! I can’t believe it! And Doctor here is still talking to you after what your father has done to her poor husband?” He burst in another laugh.

[Y/N] wanted to defend her dad but she knew there was no point.

“Ohhh you’re coming with me, Gorgeous! You’re too fun to be left here!” He started to untie her.

And she left with him. Just like that.

Doctor Lee waited for someone to rescue her, they needed to find [Y/N]. They needed to find Jerome.

But she could’t stop thinking about that one thing  that was still disturbing her.

The adoration in young girl’s eyes when she looked at the Ginger.

anonymous asked:

Sometimes I wonder why the Jedi's healers, doctors and therapists (if they had therapists) didn't just storm a Jedi Council meeting one day and point out the physical and mental injuries and trauma Anakin needs to heal from as well as the psychological impact of going from the life of a slave, to a member of a highly conservative religious organization. I love that in your Librarian AU Jocasta addresses this but I wonder if she got the healers like Vokara Che on her side.

I think the answer to your question is contained within the question itself: the Jedi are a highly conservative religious organization.

I’ve never been a Jedi, obviously, but I do know a thing or 50 about life inside a conservative religious organization. And one of the major parallels I see there is an absolute belief that faith and right practice are enough to ensure mental and spiritual well-being. If you are practicing rightly, you will not be affected by trauma, by negative emotions, by mental illness. If you are affected by those things, you must be doing something wrong.

Yoda’s advice to Anakin in ROTS bears this out. I’m always a bit puzzled when I see people trying to justify Yoda’s advice, because listen: I’ve been on the receiving end of that approach so many times I’ve lost count. It’s not some otherworldly, fictional attitude. Yoda’s approach to pastoral counseling (if you will) is basically standard practice in fundamentalist religious circles.

Everything feels like it’s falling apart so you go to your spiritual leader and all he does is tell you everything you’re doing wrong. You need to let go. You need to trust. You need to have faith and follow the teachings and stop asking questions. Your doubt is probably to blame for all of your problems in the first place. The teachings of the faith tell you everything you need to know. Accept them and rejoice in your suffering.

Of course the Jedi don’t have therapists. That would require admitting that trauma and mental illness exist, that they aren’t things people can simply think or will themselves out of by following the right religious steps. It would mean admitting that so-called negative emotions are normal and valid and can be worked through in a healthy way - and even admitting that sometimes they are a positive thing.

The Jedi Order, as an organization, cannot admit those things without drastically changing many of their core beliefs and principles. Much less can they admit that their own structure and practice might be potentially harmful or even traumatizing to anyone.

10

But like at the same time, Christians who have certain jobs need to throttle back at work because for real it gives me hives being told “Have a blessed day!” by someone like a receptionist at a doctor’s office. It happened today and while she was super-sweet and very obviously genuine (in context, I think she was actually trying to make me feel safe) it was still one of those “…welp…” moments.  I’d just told her two minutes before that my girlfriend would be coming to the appointment with me.  My cat was out of the bag, no takesie-backsies.

Christians have a very nasty track record with violence and obstruction against LGBT people like me, so I suddenly am aware that there are people around who might hate people like me, and they have the ability to make my getting medical care difficult or even impossible.

I get that even if they didn’t SAY it, they would still have the same biases, but I don’t have much choice in who I see, so I’d be stuck with them regardless, and I’d rather not have the anxiety of worrying about it.  My other choice is not disclosing that I’m queer if it comes up, and even when not saying anything about it is an option, which it often isn’t, it’s not one I’m willing to take.  I have to choose between being safe and being honest, and that’s shitty.

It can be hard to imagine, I think, for Christian people, what it’s like to be afraid like that, because to Christians, Christianity is a great thing and Christians are great people.

But like the first psych doctor they wanted to send me to for my disability reevaluation worked out of a Christian therapy office (okay) and their clinic policy was “gay people are against God.” (Not okay at all.)

My disability eval was going to be performed by a dude who was comfortable telling children they are wrong to be gay.

I called up the disability office the day I got the letter and got another doctor to do the eval. Thank goodness they were willing to reassign my case after I told them there was “a potential conflict of interest that might threaten the doctor’s impartiality.”  Thank goodness I had the spoons to make the call and the presence of mind to phrase my issue the way I did instead of just yelling “MOVE I’M GAY.”

I mean, y’all understand, I could have gotten my benefits yanked if I’d gone in there and they’d taken a dislike to me based on the fact that I’m not cishet.  Legal protections aside, there is no impartial third party monitoring that appointment, and they have total control over what goes on their paperwork. There is literally nothing keeping them from recommending I be denied.  For disabled people, legal protections are only effective to the extent we can afford to enforce the law with our own money. Money that, if you are on disability, you obviously do not have.

Without my benefits, especially medical coverage, I cannot survive.  So like.

Yeah.

A lot is riding on the goodwill of people who have been shown to historically have very little goodwill for people like me. I don’t like being reminded of it.

Y’all are cool, I love y’all so so so much, but y’all are also really fucking scary in large groups, and when one of y’all has power over me, I never know whether I can trust you and that shit is scary.

Fucking police your own, thanks.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a scenario of Genji or McCree flirting with Mercy's medical assistant/apprentice while they are getting treated for minor injuries post mission?

Masterpost

The familiar smell of antiseptic of the medical room greeted you as you entered, carefully carrying the latest box of supplies which was sent over for Dr. Zeigler. However, unlike the usual quiet hum of the machinery that would usually greet you when you took your shift, it was a loud argument that welcomed you to the room. Noticing a few drop of blood on the pure white floor, you quickly checked your watch. Of course. A group of agents must of just returned from another mission. Setting down the box on the supply cupboard, you quickly tugged on your white lab coat, hurrying over the where you could hear Angela’s voice arguing with a male one. 

“I will sedate you if you keep arguing with me! Even though it is a minor wound, it could get infected and I will not have you out of action just because of it!” The doctor scolded. 

“That’s why I came to get a band-aid from you!” The voice protested. 

Angela made a sound of pure exasperation before appearing in your line of sight, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She started slightly at the sight of you before sighing in relief. 

“Oh thank goodness. Please deal with him, I’ve known him too long to put up with anymore of his shenanigans.” Angela whispered to you, placing a chilled hand on your shoulder before looking back over her shoulder, saying in a louder tone: “ My apprentice will be taking care of that wound for you. And then, only then, may you leave.” 

“Hm? The cute one? Why didn’t you just say so, I’d have come sooner!” 

Angela sighed before giving you an apologetic look and walking over to the supplies you brought in, starting to pack them safely away. You took a breath and walked over, behind the privacy curtain, to the patient’s bed where the man was sitting, waiting. 

Jesse McCree

The cowboy reclined comfortably on the bed, the sleeve of his still intact human arm rolled all the way up to his shoulder, showing a large, deep, bloodied gash from the elbow to the top of his arm. Dirt still clung to his darkened clothing and his serape, which he folded neatly on the chair next to the bed. He had taken his shoes off, as to not stain the bed sheets with blood and filth, as to not annoy Angela further. Smart man. 

He was whistling softly as you shut the curtains and turned to him, giving him a small lukewarm smile. 

“Howdy.” Jesse gave you a wolfish grin, tilting his head slightly like an overgrown wolf cub. 

You hummed a greeting, opening up the bedside drawer and took out bandages, a pair of scissors, antiseptic spray, cleaning cloth and a single band-aid. Jesse chuckled softly at the sight, sitting up so you could attend to him better. 

“You do know I was kidding about the band-aid, right sugar?” McCree asked, eyes watching you bemusedly. 

“Yes, but all kids like having a plaster on their owies, don’t they?” You retorted, using the cleaning cloth to lightly clean up the excess blood around the wound. 

Jesse snorted loudly, obviously amused. 

“So, you think I’m like a big kid.” 

“Evidently.” 

“Well, I ain’t bashful to tell ya, the things you’re making me think of ain’t kid-friendly at all.” Jesse purred playfully. 

You nearly dropped the bloodied cloth as you threw it in the dustbin, a slight colored tinge coming to your cheeks. You cleared your throat, picking up the antiseptic spray and, without warning, spraying it on the wound, making McCree jump. 

“Shit!” He growled. “That stings!” 

You smirked idly, starting to wrap the wound in bandages, feeling his narrowed gaze on you as you worked. He leaned forwards slightly, humming in your ear, hoping to distract you with his short distance from you. You momentarily lost concentration, opting to hurriedly redo the bandage, as McCree chuckled. You shot him a glare and tightened it abruptly, making the cowboy jump again. 

“Damn, doll, you’re sadistic to your patients. Are you like this all the time?” Jesse huffed, casually sliding his leg in between yours. 

“I learned from the best.” You shrugged, the thought of Angela approving of your harsh treatment of Jesse making you grin. 

“Well, your bedside manner is shit, but if you’re this mean in bed, I’d forgive it.” Jesse murmured, low so Angela wouldn’t hear. 

You accidentally cut your finger as you snipped off the end of the bandage which stuck out, startled from Jesse’s remark. You hissed a soft swear as you placed the scissors down, but was quickly silenced by McCree taking your hand and casually licking the cut, making you start. 

“Shit! That stings!” You pulled your hand away. 

Jesse smirked lazily, pleased with the quick karma. You huffed, picking up the band-aid and sticking it to his uselessly to the bandage around his arm. 

“There. Do you want a lollipop as well?” You hummed, going to the sink and running the cut under cold water. 

“Nah, but, uh, do you have any rubbers around here?” Jesse asked, sliding off the bed. 

For some reason there was a sinking feeling in your stomach. Shaking off the feeling, you strode over to the supply bench and pulled out a condom for him, giving him an unimpressed look. 

“Doll, what makes you think I’ll only be needing the one?” McCree chuckled, pulling his shoes on. 

You turned around, sighing and picked up two more, showing him the 3 little packets, Jesse nodding his approval. Standing up he took the edges of the condoms between his teeth, wrapping his serape around his shoulders, before pocketing them. 

“I’ll be back later, sweetheart!” Jesse called over his shoulder. 

“Don’t tell me you’ll be needing more.” You answered flatly. 

“Nah, I’m hoping on actually using them when I visit next time.” McCree grinned his wolfish smirk at your flushed cheeks as he shut the door behind him. 

You could hear his cheerful whistling all the way down the hall. 

Genji Shimada 

The cyborg was sitting boyishly on the bed, cross legged, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, a bored air about him. He straightened up slightly at your arrival, his vents exhaling a small amount of steam. You glanced at his body, trying to find the wound which Angela had lectured him about. 

“So, where’s this injury that can’t be helped with a band-aid?” You asked, watching the cyborg. 

Genji hummed, suddenly propping his leg up on the headboard of the bed, looking as if he was stretching for a ballet class.  There, underneath the damaged plating, was a large gash along his inner thigh. 

“Did you and Reaper try to get freaky and he forgot he still had his gloves on or something?” You asked, bemused before leaning in, examining the tear closely. 

“Ah no, it was Hana’s Ult gone wrong.” Genji laughed, amused at the thought.

You pushed your hair out of the way, trying the see where the most damage had  been caused, leaning in closer and squinting. Genji tilted his head, watching you get pretty close to his crotch. He chuckled to himself and, straining to hear if Angela was coming back, he pushed your hair out of your way, keeping his fingers tangled in it. 

You hummed a thanks. 

“Genji, you’ll need to g- What are you two doing?!” Angela pulled the curtain back, starting at the sight of you two, Genji holding your hair, your face practically buried in his lap. 

You jumped and looked up, puzzled, at Angela. Genji muffled his boyish chuckling, vents exhaling steam once more in glee. 

“I thought…” Angela’s cheeks gained a small amount of color, realizing she had leapt to conclusion. 

“Yes, doctor?” Genji purred happily, resting his hand on your lower back. “What did you think was happening? Must of been something that looked like it breached doctor-patient rules.” 

“N-Nevermind that!” Angela snapped. “I was just going to say that after the wound has been patched up, you should go along to Torbjorn to get the armour plating patched up!” 

Angela quickly disappeared with a huff. You glanced down at Genji quizzically to which he only giggled in response. 

“You’re cute when out of your element.” Genji remarked, leaning back on his forearms. 

Your cheeks colored momentarily, quickly grabs forceps, cleaning cloth, antiseptic and other medical instruments out of the bedside drawer. You pushed his inner thigh so you could better see the damage and got to work, cleaning the wound. You were being incredibly careful, as to not irritate the old scars the you brushed over, but still, Genji would grip the sheets a few times, huffing softly. You were just dabbing ointment along where skin met metal when your hand briefly slipped and accidentally pressed against the sensitive wounds. Genji gave a yelp of pain and you quickly pulled back. 

“Sorry.” You muttered. 

“You might as well kiss it better.” Genji hummed softly, tilting his head. 

“What? No!” 

“You should.” Genji’s gaze never broke away from your face. “That did hurt quite a lot.” 

“It’s unhygienic.” You said, flatly. 

“Well, kiss somewhere else then.” Genji suggested, a sultry tone entering his voice. 

“Y-You’re done here. Go to Torbjorn.” You quickly changed the path of the conversation, throwing away used cloths and washing the forceps you used to help clean the wound. 

Genji gingerly stood up, stretching his back so it clicked. You strode out, placing the now washed forceps back into the supply cupboard. You didn’t hear Genji come up behind you, until you felt his chin rest on your shoulder. 

“We’ll talk later about where you can place that kiss, hm?” Genji murmured. “I’m looking forward to it~” 

There’s no “I” in Team (Kidney, edited)

All of the suggested revisions were made and a lot of my own revisions were added. Also this fic is supposed to play out like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy (not super realistic logistic timeline wise or medicine wise). 

It started with the itching. It felt like a bad sunburn a couple of days in, like there was a layer of skin on top of his skin. He had mentioned it in passing to his Mami, but she had just taken it as an opportunity to tell him about the importance of sunscreen, even though it was mid January. “Stop wearing wool.”She suggested, “Use a different laundry detergent. Oh, and don’t use fabric softener, it can irritate your skin.” About a week later a large basket filled with expensive bath products arrived on the front door of the Haus, but no amount of salt scrubs or exfoliating brushes or shea cocoa oatmeal ultra moisturizing cream stopped the itch. “Maybe you have eczema? I’ll call the doctor and see if he can get you in over spring break.” His Mami suggested an oatmeal bath for the fourth time in one phone call so he shouts a couple of “I love yous” and hangs up the phone.

Unfortunately even the medicated eczema cream his mother mailed in didn’t seem to work.   Nursey couldn’t sit for more than five minutes without scratching incessantly at his skin. Even on the ice, he would shift uncomfortably in his pads, missing passes and ignoring Dex’s angry shouts as he tried not jump out of his own skin. He had begged Chowder and Farmer and bribed them with Reese’s peanut butter cups until they agreed to help scratch every inch of his body.

He was exhausted all the time, barely alert or awake enough to even acknowledge Dex’s chirps. He writes it off as normal college student exhaustion, with his late nights, early morning hockey practices and excessive coffee consumption.  But he barely slept at night, tossing and turning in the bottom bunk and more than once Dex forces him to move to the toxic green couch. He can barely fall asleep because of the itch and once he falls asleep its restless and light and he wakes up to dark nail streaks all over is skin.

  Then it was the swollen legs and arms. Nursey was naturally more muscular, but Bitty had shouted when Nursey shed his pads after practice on Friday and revealed horribly swollen legs, arms and feet.  Bitty had poked and prodded before shoving Nursey towards Coach Hall who immediately advised Nursey to go to the student health center. Nursey had brushed them off, claiming he had a paper due that night that he couldn’t waste the time ( “I have a poetry midterm next week, I can’t waste any potential study time.”)

So later that night when Nursey and Dex were huddled in their room, each typing away on their respective computers was when the situation had finally dramatically escalated. Nursey had been complaining about nausea since dinner, but now he was rushing to the bathroom with both hands over his mouth. He can hear his Mami’s voice nagging in his head “Too much caffeine will upset your stomach.” It’s stress, it’s just stress, just calm down. He tries to coach himself through it to no avail.

The little bit of rice and saltines he had managed to get down was coming back up and he retched loudly enough to alert Chowder. He felt the warmth of Chowder’s hands rubbing circles into his back and vaguely heard the goalie calling out to Bitty. He was retching uncontrollably and his body was seizing with every wave of nausea but nothing was coming up, and Chowder smoothed a hand over the back of Nursey’s neck and shoulders. When his was finally able to stop retching Chowder pulled him up again his chest and someone else (Dex maybe?) grabbed his feet and maneuvered him down the stairs and into the back of Bitty’s small four door.

“Where are we going?” His own voice sounded slurred and muffled to his ears as another wave of nausea hit.

“The emergency room.” Chowder was still rubbing soft circles into his back and Dex reached back to pat his knee before relaying the directions to Bitty.

Keep reading

Business and Pleasure - Part 13

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 1,413

Warnings: Swearing


Originally posted by naih-reedus


“Y/N Barnes?” the nurse’s voice, however kind it may have seemed to everyone else in the room, sent shivers down your spine. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t want to be here. In fact, you could think of several places you’d rather be at the moment, but you tried to keep a neutral expression as you stood.

“Do you want me to come in with you? Or I can just wait out here. Whichever you’d prefer.” Steve asked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Nodding, you squeezed back tightly, “Please. I feel like I’m either going to puke. Or pass out. Maybe both. I don’t really know.”


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Hallelujah, You’re Home

Read on AO3


          It’s been two years. Two years since they’ve felt rain on their faces. Two years since they’ve seen their families, since they’ve spoken to their families. Two years since they really started to learn what war was. Two years since they stopped being teenagers and became soldiers. Two years since they left Earth. Three, for Shiro.

           But now they’re going back. They’re going home.

           Well, for a little while, at least. The war isn’t over. The Galra Empire has been taking over the universe for over 10,000 years, it can’t be taken down in simply two. But in two years, the Voltron Alliance has grown substantially, and they’ve taken down enough Galra higher ups that Voltron is almost universally known and called upon, and with fame, comes questions. It’s not a secret anymore that the five Paladins of Voltron are from Earth. Everybody knows, so there’s no point in avoiding Earth anymore. At least, that’s what the Paladins keep telling Allura. Earth is vulnerable now; it’s a target, and with it’s technology as unadvanced as it was when they left, they’re at a serious disadvantage if the Galra ever attacked. They probably still have no idea that aliens even exist. Earth needs Voltron. Earth needs the Voltron Alliance, and the Voltron Alliance needs Earth.

           Also, Lance just really needs his mom.

           So, here they are, entering the Milky Way Galaxy, all waiting anxiously at their stations on the control deck.

           “Ha! Boom, bitches! Wi-fi is up!” Pidge punches her fists in the air in triumph and ignores the half-hearted look her father shoots her when she says “bitches”.

           The others have long since gotten used to Pidge and her amazing technical ability, but they still all look at her in shock, except for Matt. He had obviously helped her.

           “Pidge, how the hell did you get wi-fi in space?” Keith asks incredulously.

           Lance nods in agreement. “Seriously. Tell me how I can’t get a signal in the desert outside of Galaxy Garrison, but you can get one past Saturn.”

           At this, Pidge snorts and raises an eyebrow at them. “You didn’t have me. Or amazingly amplifying Altean technology.”

           “Something tells me it was mostly the Altean tech.”

           “Shh and bow before my genius.”

           Pidge, Hunk, and Lance all immediately grab their phones and start scrolling on them, ignoring Coran’s announcement that they’ll be to Earth in two dobashes.

           “Oh my god. They told everybody we’re all dead. We have a memorial!” Pidge exclaims.

Keep reading

I’ve got my swim trunks, and my flippie-floppies

for @legividivici, hope you like it!! <3 (ao3)


The last place Clarke expected to run into anyone she knows is the literal middle of the ocean, but the cruise ship has barely left port before she spots a familiar head of tousled curls ahead of her in the crowd.

She loses sight of him before she can get a good look, so she chalks it up to her imagination. It’s entirely possible that Bellamy is on the same cruise she is– they did, after all, both just graduate, and therefore have the same budget and scheduling constraints– but she tells herself it probably isn’t him. And that even if it is him, it’s not like they’re going to run into each other.

So of course the next day she’s on one of the decks by the pool when a shadow falls over her and his voice says, “Is this chair taken?”

Clarke pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and wrinkles her nose at him.

“I don’t know, I my tiara really ought to have a chair of its own.”

Bellamy smirks and sits on the edge of the chair, not moving her stuff– not yet– but settling in to bicker with her. As is their custom.

She and Bellamy were RAs in the same dorm two years ago, and they had differing ideas at first about how hands-on they needed to be with their freshmen. Despite the way they picked at each other, by the end of the year they’d become reluctant allies, his calling her ‘Princess’ taking on less of a sneer and more of a teasing edge, her comebacks laced with a smile. They had each other’s backs.

But she didn’t re-up her RA contract for her senior year, and he did, and they’re not the type of friends to outright admit they miss each other, so she hasn’t seen nearly as much of him in the past couple of semesters as she would like.

“You here with Wells?”

“And Raven,” she nods. “I was saving those seats for them, but I’m pretty sure they ditched me to have tiny cabin sex.”

“O and Lincoln ditched me pretty fast too. I think they’ve all forfeited their right to a saved seat,” he grins, passing her bag back to her. The way he lounges back in the chair, skin already browning, wind ruffling his hair, he looks like something straight out of an ad. Or Clarke’s fantasies. Either one, really.

Just because she used to think he was a Class-A dick (which he is, but not in the way she thought. In the fun way.) doesn’t mean she’s never noticed how great his hands are, or how he’s got perfect hair for pulling, or how there’s probably more than one way to wipe a smirk off his face.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” she grumbles. He grins at her and pulls his shirt off, which is– honestly just so unfair.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

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5x20-filler fic

A/N: I tried to put this off and go to bed because I have to get up in a few hours and catch a flight, buttttttttttt my brain is an asshole. So that didn’t happen and I wrote this which is just a little filler fic after Oliver and Felicity get pulled out of the hole. Thanks for reading this from beyond the grave since we’re all dead with feels and new sexy times! 

Enjoy! 



The winch pulling in the rope attached to Digg moved quicker than Felicity expected. With the blood from Oliver’s wound seeping through her top all she could think about was getting to the surface and getting him help.

When they reached the ledge, hands were there to pull them up and over, Digg first, turning fast to sit back and brace his feet to help haul Oliver to solid ground.

Her back scraped painfully against the side as Oliver did his best not to crush her, panting with exertion and blood loss. For a long moment they all just lay there, silent, thankful to be alive.

Dinah’s hands pressed into Felicity’s shoulders, holding her upper body still while her legs still dangled in the open air.

With a grunt she tried to plant her arms and push back but they collapsed beneath her, the effort it had taken to hold on to Oliver and balance her weight as best she could had taken the last of her strength.

“Hang on there, Blondie, we’ve got you,” Rene said with a forced easiness that somehow made her feel better as he slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her backwards the final few feet, the threat of her falling back into the elevator shaft finally eliminated.

“Thanks,” she panted, rolling on her left hip to look towards Oliver and Digg.

Oliver was sprawled in the same spot where he’d landed, face slick with sweat, his breaths too quick and with a faint blood stain already marking the concrete beneath him.

“He needs help,” she said almost frantically as she reached for him, her hand going for his face just as he turned his head to look for her, “I don’t think the stitches held–”

“Lyla’s got a med team standing by and transport to ARGUS,” Digg said as he hauled himself to his feet, “We’ll get you both checked out.”

“I’m okay,” Oliver said weakly, struggling to push himself to his elbows.

“You are so far from okay,” she countered, letting some of the fear she’d experienced in the last few minutes take control of her voice.

He gave her a wan smile, one that was just for her as he covered her hand and squeezed it hard, “We got out. Together. I’m okay.”

She held his gaze as long as she dared, the lump in her throat too thick to speak over. And then Digg was holding out his hand for Oliver to take, making sure he was on his feet and mostly steady before he let go.

Rene moved to his side with one look from Digg, “Need an escort, Hoss? It’s a bit of a walk back.”

Felicity’s stomach lurched when Oliver just nodded his acceptance and laid an arm over Rene’s shoulders. Oliver was hurting much worse than he was letting on.

“I don’t suppose you brought my extra chair?” she asked, looking up at Digg.

“You’re stuck with me I’m afraid,” he replied with a mock shrug before bending down to scoop her up.

He fell into step right behind Oliver and Rene, Dinah having moved up to flank Oliver’s other side just in case he fell.

“Thanks for coming for us,” she said softly, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

“Always, Felicity.”

By the time they reached ARGUS Oliver was barely able to stand causing Lyla to bark orders for the medical team to come to them.

In seconds, they were surrounded and before she could blink, he was being maneuvered to a gurney as doctors swarmed him.

“Oliver!” she cried moving as if she could somehow break out of Digg’s hold and go to Oliver’s side before he was rushed away.

But Digg moved in closer making a space for them. Oliver’s head rolled heavily to the side, and to her great relief his eyes were open and locked on hers.

His hand reached out, swaying and unsteady but she lunged to grab it, not paying attention to how Digg had to adjust his hold so she wouldn’t fall.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered fiercely, the past eighteen months of their lives suddenly becoming so clear to her.

He smiled, and then his eyes slipped shut and the fear she’d felt before spiked in her chest as they began to roll him away.

“He’ll be okay, Felicity,” Digg said reassuringly.

Her eyes stayed on him until he turned a corner and she could no longer see him. A sharp gasping breath left her lungs and it took everything in her not to break down. That could come later.

“I think I’ve got everything I need to at least get you a temporary fix on your implant,” Curtis began, as he approached them.

“Let’s go get you patched up while Oliver’s with the doctors,” Digg suggested low against her ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him the hug she’d wanted to give him since she’d first seen him on that rickety ladder trying to get to them.

“You really think he’ll be okay?” she asked shakily.

Digg pulled back to look her dead in the eye, “I know he will. He’s got too much to live for, even if he doesn’t know what that all is yet. Though something tells me that maybe he’s finally figured it out.”

The little voice.

I get a 54yo male from home c/o severe lower back pain that was sudden onset while watching tv at home. He’s hypertensive on arrival 220/110. I put in my triage, line and lab him. The med student comes in to do her physical assessment and talk with the pt. I see her leave the room with a worried look on her face but she goes back and sits at the doctors desk, the attending is seeing another pt. I asked her what she thought and she very meekly says “I think he may be having a dissection” (he has an extensive cardiac hx) I tell her I agree it’s a possibility and that we need to inform the attending immediately. She looks nervous and she says “but I don’t know, I could be wrong” I said listen you need to trust your gut, if you think this, and this is your assessment, then be confident in it. We inform the doctor who agrees with the med student, I run the pt to CT for a stat CTA, which confirms an aortic dissection. I was so proud of that little med student. And I made sure to tell her that. She saved a mans life and was able to see the full picture and not just the cc of “back pain”. The confidence comes in time but that little voice that tells you something is wrong even if you’re not 100% sure is so important to not ignore. I’m sure she will always remember this, as will I. She’ll make a fine doctor one day. Nursing students, med students, even post school and licensure, we won’t and can’t know everything and will sometimes feel like we know absolutely nothing but we should feel confident in what we do know, strive to learn more each day and always trust your gut. If you at least know normal you’ll know if something is abnormal even if you’re not quite sure exactly what it is.

Originally posted by yourstruly-sassenach

The Right Way

When John opens his eyes, everything is white and silent.

His first feeling is shock.
Shock over this surreal environment. The sand, the heat, the tanks and the death have disappeared. No screams and no helicopter sounds can be heard. Instead, quiet, friendly voices around him. Birds singing somewhere. Well, outside. Outside where the sun shines. Where there is a daily life. Around him is the smell of disinfectants and mild detergent.

John blinks at the bright light in the room. He realizes he’s in a bed. No narrow, hard cot. It is a large, soft bed. A thick pillow under his head. A blanket pulled up to his chin. It’s warm.

He also notes that he can hardly move. It’s like a heavy weight is pushing him down.
John grunts, and wiggles tentatively with his toes under the blanket. This works very well. But as he tries to lift his head, an unpleasant, throbbing pain passes through his shoulder. At the same time, it occurres to him that he has been shot.
Shot. In Afghanistan.

John lets his head sink back into the pillow and breathes in the cool air in the room.
I was shot …
Pictures before his eyes make him swallow.
Running soldiers, screams, shots, an explosion. A hand on his arm, a whisper, a groan as eyes close forever …
And then the sharp pain as the bullet pierces him. Pain, so much pain, he falls into the sand and he can hear his name. Someones shouting his name …
A moment later it’s all gone.

John knows he’s been taken to a hospital. For the initial treatment. And then. Home.

Home, meaning this hospital.

He sighs, and licks his dry lips. Thirst.
His gaze falls to the side of the wall, where a call button is.
He presses it.
A few minutes later, a young nurse comes into the room. She smiles the certain standard smile, which is so common in a hospital.
“Ah, Dr. Watson, you are awake. Very good. The doctor will want to see your wound soon. Do you need something?”
“Water,” John can only croak with difficulty. And he points his finger vaguely at the bed. “Could you … raise it please?”
“Yes, of course.” The nurse pushes a button on the bed and it slowly lifts. “I’ll bring you water.”
Then she is gone again.

John can see the room better now. And when he looks aside, he sees that he is not alone.
Next to him is another bed. And there is a man in it.
The face half hidden by an oxygen mask.
John can see thick, dark locks. And pale, almost white skin. He judges the man to be in his mid-thirties. He stares at the completely motionless body and swallows. Something is drawing him to this unknown man … something he can not explain. John notes that he is fascinated. Fascinated without really having a reason for it. He shakes his head slightly.

The nurse comes back with a mug and a water bottle.
She pours him water into the mug and John takes it with a still unsteady hand. He drinks, relieved.
Then he says softly, “Who is that?”
The nurse follows his gaze and says with a sad undertone, “Oh, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. He’s been here for a long time. Almost half a year. He’s in a coma.”
“Ah,” John says, swallowing. Half a year. That’s a long time. “How …?”
“How it happened? He overdosed on cocain. We … well, we can’t ask him, but we think it was a suicide attempt.” She gently shakes her head and takes the empty mug from John. “It’s really a shame. He never gets any visitors. Never. The thought that no one in the world is there for him … Who knows if he will ever wake up again. Perhaps there is simply nothing worth it for … Oye, I talk too much.” She seems a little embarrassed and clears her throat. “If you need anything, just call, ok? The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Thank you. Yes.”
The nurse leaves. John does not look away from the sleeping man in the other bed.

Half a year. No visit.
Jesus.

*
The days pass at a quiet, slow pace, which both soothes and disturbs John.
He is not used to it.
He almost expects to be suddenly torn from the calm routine by a shrill siren. Or suddenly lie back in the hot, bloody sand of the desert.
But of course it doesn’t happen.
Instead, he wakes up around 9 in the morning, receives his breakfast and is examined. The doctor is friendly and passive. Nodding pleased at the sight of John’s wound, while John himself stares at the hole in his shoulder with a growing nausea.
After that, he can only watch TV, or watch Sherlock being fed.
It’s hard to watch.
No reaction comes from the comatose man, when the nurses lift his limbs off the bed to wash him. Turn him to his side. Dress him again.
The motionless body doesn’t resist. It reminds John of a doll. He does not like this thought.
At noon, they bring John food again.
For Sherlock, of course, nothing comes. He is fed artificially.
In the evening, more food. And more TV.
A lot of rest. A little too much, John thinks once, and feels strangely guilty at the thought.
On the third day of this routine, he talks to Sherlock for the first time.
It’s because a James Bond movie is on.
John always liked James Bond.
And that’s what he says.
“This is a good movie. A really good movie. Lots of action. And the women are pretty, the men too,” he says aloud in the room. And laughs. There’s no answer. And he feels a little stupid.

*

After a while, John realizes that he will not get any visitors either.
It’s not really that surprising.
Harry is … well, he doesn’t even know where his sister lives. His mother is dead. And he does not want to see his father. Not that he thinks, his father would want to see him …
Once, he receives a call from the leader of his unit. From Afghanistan. He says something like, “it’s a shame” and “get back on your feet soon”. John doesn’t say much. He only murmurs “Yes, sir” now and then.
His hand is trembling as he holds the phone. A tremor. It hasn’t stopped since he woke up.
He doesn’t get any visitors. Just like Sherlock.
Only the nurses and the doctor enter the room.
“Here we are, huh?” John says to Sherlock while eating his bland soup. “We’re alone together here.”

And then the nightmares start. About the war. About death and pain. About men he could not save. Distorted faces in the dark. Eyes full of despair.
He wakes up in the middle of the night. Heavily breathing. Bathed in sweat.
He moans and sits up with difficulty. Runs a hand over his face.
He looks at Sherlock. Sherlock, who is, as always, motionless in bed. A part of his face lit from the machine that measures his heartbeat.
John swallows. He must … He feels the overwhelming desire to talk to someone. It needs to stop. He can not … Oh, hell, he has no one and it’s not like Sherlock would complain, right?
He clears his throat and begins.

“Well, uh, Sherlock. How do you feel? Um, I hope I didn’t wake you. Sorry, haha, bad joke … I had a nightmare, which is quite obviously, right? Well, uhm, I hope it doesn’t bother you if I just talk a little. Yes. I’ll talk. So make yourself comfortable. Haha.
Sometimes I think I’ve gone the wrong way. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. And the army … Well, it was just a whim. An idea that me and my friends had. One of them is dead, by the way. Mmh. I … it was not always bad. The training was exhausting though. Sometimes I thought I could not make it. My family was not much help either. My father is an asshole. There is no other word. My sister was thrown out. My mother died. It was all … a mess, you know? Anyway, I’ve been struggling. I wanted to do it. This one thing. And I did it. I’ve become a doctor. I went to Afghanistan and treated soldiers. I’ve seen things that would turn your stomach. Wounds that seemed like death sentences. I’ve looked into hopeless, desperate eyes. Sometimes I saved them. Sometimes I couldn’t.
And the faces of those I could not save, they haunt me now, you know? In my dreams. God. I’m so sorry. I really am … Do you see that? I’m crying. That hasn’t happened for a long time. It seems to make you sentimental when you get a bullet in your shoulder … " 

*

"Thank you for listening to me all the time, Sherlock. All this blabbering must be terrible. I thought about James today. Who that is? Well, good question. We were more than friends. But never more than … no idea. I kissed him. Well. In the desert, watching the sunset. Once. Just once. Do you think that is romantic? Shit, yes. Mabye it is. ”

*
“My middle name is Hamish. I hate it. I mean, who calls their child John Hamish? My father chose my name. There we have it again. This bastard. Hamish. I always avoid telling people that name. So, I guess that makes us mates? Hey, buddy, haha. No. That just sounds wrong. Sorry.”
*
"I can get up today. Great, huh? I feel like an old man. My damn shoulder, my trembling hand … a pretty sad picture I make, huh? ”

“It was not so bad. I mean, I for some reason I’m limping, quite badly, but the fresh air was great. I was down in the park. And imagine, a woman spoke to me. She’s called Mary. She said she’s working here. She is nice. And you know what, I asked her if we could go for a coffee. She said yes. Can I get a ‘well done’? No? All right. ”
*
“Do you know, that you’re pretty? Really, you are. I maybe would have asked you out, if I met you somewhere else before. Oh God, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I … Maybe I’m just afraid. Because … well. I’ll have to leave here soon, I guess. And I don’t know what to do then …”
*
“Well, that’s it. I … tomorrow I can go. I don’t know exactly where, but I can go. Mmh. I think I’m really scared. Mary said I should do therapy. No idea if that would help. I guess, I can try it. Maybe. Well, I’ll pack my things. You know … you really could wake up to say good-bye to me. It would be nice …”
*
“Surprise! Yes, here I am again. I … I missed you, Sherlock. You’re a good listener, you know? Better than my therapist … So, what happened since I left, tell me, haha.”
*
“I will marry Mary. That’s … yes, that’s good, right? She is … she gives me a certain hold in life. I would not know where else to go. What else could I do? So. We are getting married.”
*
“Oh God. Fuck Hey, Sherlock. I … She’s pregnant. She … she’s really pregnant. Did you hear that? I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a father. I. Can you belive that? No, me neither. I … Oh my God, what am I doing?”
*
“This is not what I wanted, do you hear me Sherlock? That … my God, I can not do that. That’s … That’s not me. Fuck. ”
*
“I love her … Really, I do. I mean, I married her. But … I just do not know what I’m doing. I’m … This is not me. I don’t want a quiet family life in a terraced area. I want … I don’t even really know what I want … But, I hate all of this. I … I thought I was going the right way this time, but that … that’s not what I want. I’m not a family man, Sherlock. ”
*
“You know, Sherlock, you can just wake up once. So … so we could really talk. Because, well … You listen to me here as I talk every day. Aren’t you bored. Jesus. I know it would be a miracle if you woke up. I have … I’ve heard the nurses talking. They’ve given up on you. It would be a miracle. But … I don’t know, maybe you can just make the miracle happen for me? Simply … Oh God, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Good bye, Sherlock. Until tomorrow.”
*
6 weeks later.

“Hello, Dr. Watson. I’m sorry to call you so late, but he … he’s asking for you.”

“Who? Who is asking for me?”

“Sherlock Holmes. The coma patient you have been visiting. He woke up and now he’s asking for you. Very urgently.”

John hurried to the hospital. He doesn’t even notice that he left his cane at home. Until Sherlock points it out. Sherlock, sitting upright in bed, an exhausted, oblique smile on his face.
Sherlock, who says quietly, “Hello, John.”
Sherlock, who steals John’s heart within a second and opens the door to a whole new, completely different story. Who shows John a new way. Which is finally

           the right one. 



This was inspired by this beautiful post of @johnnlocked: AU in which Sherlock is in a coma and John is in the same room.

Corrected by my wonderful beta @bakerstreet-irregular <3

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