i’m currently experiencing the pleasant side of surgeons being absolute tactile jocks and as a touch-starved nerd i am living
i’ve only been working a week and already:
the head of a department ruffled my nape after i joked with him in a way that surprised him cause i look ten yo and i decided to joke with who i did not then know was the head of a department
after joking about tight spaces forcing us to tango around each other a colleague has taken to humming and briefly touching my waist before grabbing whatever i’m in the way of as i swerve
(social anxiety can eat me. i got inside jokes with people)
i was patted on the head in way of greeting. it was weird but amusing
and there have been so many times when they just acknowledge their passing with a little pat on the back or whatever
a surgeon almost knocked me over cause she backed into me and then proceeded to grab my flailing form around the waist and straight up kiss my cheek like we’d rehearsed a dance move. she wasn’t even the one i have the inside joke with
(no but seriously there is no space)
it’s like working with a bunch of slightly condescending puppies
what she really means:
in season 9 episode 21 of Friends "The One With the Fertility Test" Chandler tells Monica they are both incapable of having a baby, due to low sperm motility and an inhospitable environment. I always assumed Chandler lied to Monica about his low sperm motility so Monica wouldn't find out she was the reason they couldn't conceive. (Even though there was no way to prove it). However, when the doctor calls and Chandler answers, he asks to speak to Monica...if something was wrong with Chandler, the doctor would've told him because he was already on the phone. And when Monica asked Chandler if there was a problem with him or with her, before answering, Chandler hesitates and looks off to the side a little before saying "actually it's both of us."
so basically all I'm ever going to think about is how Chandler probably did lie to Monica to protect her from knowing that she is the reason they cannot naturally have a child, the one thing she has wanted since the beginning of season 1, and now i have to cry for eternity
Sterek fandom, please
gather around me. I have to talk to you about something extremely important.
Because today my friends, I
discovered that something called the “Teddy bear hospital” exists.
And it’s even more adorable than you can
(It’s actually a French association, where
parents bring their kids, who then have to find with the doctor what’s wrong
with their favorite toy, check all the boxes on a chart with different
diseases, then bring the teddy bear to the dentist, the radiologist, the
It’s mainly to teach kids not to be afraid
of doctors and hospitals, and help kids that have to spend a lot of time in
hospital understand what really happens there. The doctors are all medicine students,
and like my sister, mainly dying inside from the cute)
Now can you imagine Sterek in that?
Stiles pushing the stretcher with the
little bear on it, one paw wrapped in bandages because they suspect broken
bones. Stiles following a little girl with really clear eyes and actual pigtails,
smiling like a crazy person because of how cute
the kid is, pointing decidedly at the different doors for her teddy bear’s next
And on the other side of the stretcher,
Derek, the uncle/single dad, slowly melting in a puddle of besotted goo because
of this guy in his doctor blouse, with the moles, and the smiles, and listening to freaking teddy bear’s heartbeat.
Stiles and Derek, the medical students that
meet during the event. Derek being the surgeon (because he’s kind of worried
about handling kids) (and of course he’s amazing and the kid adore him but he
worries anyway because he’s big and scary and Laura told him he has too much
eyebrow for one person).
Stiles being the charming radiologist, that
comes into Derek’s surgery room clearly to torture him. Because he comes in
with the most radiant smiles (and Derek always smiles back, even if they have
seen each other thirty times already and even if he still doesn’t know the guy’s
name) and a kid clutching at his hand, before helping them into little surgeon
outfits. Derek can’t even look at him directly; it’s that stunning a view. He
doesn’t understand how someone that must spend 23 hours a day studying and
leaving on junk food can glow so
Stiles and Derek are single parents that
bring their kids to the Teddy bear hospital, and both get promptly sent to the
waiting room by their independent four and five years old.
They both meet in
the waiting room, where they are the only one not enjoying these few moments of
freedom, but pacing all over the place like trapped animals. Both of them have really bad memories of hospitals,
and they bond ver it after buying their fourth coffee in the vain hope of distracting
They get caught making out in a supply closet by a nurse. Both of
their kids give them very disappointed looks.
Laura bringing Derek there without any explanation. Because she’s 6 months pregnant, and Derek will be there to see
his nephew coming into the world, hospital phobia or not.
So Stiles raises his eyes from his planning
to find that the little Derek is in fact one big, strong ball of muscles, pale
eyes and blushing cheek, and closer to thirty than 3. Stiles immediately decides to forgets the “only kids from 3 to 8″ rules and calls dibs (because he saw Jeanine’s
Derek may well be a weirdo, but he’s a beautiful one. Who mumbles when his sister kisses him on the cheek and actually resists
for a few seconds before handing Stiles the teddy bear. It’s absolutely
Then Stiles starts the list of fake diseases and diagnoses a bad burn on the
bear, when he catches Derek’s
expression. The man looks completely broken and sad, and trying very hard and badly to hide it.
So Stiles backpedals so
hard he physically gets back, hands in the air, and changes his diagnosis to a sprained paw and a bellyache.
For the hour long visit, all of Stiles’ colleagues look at them both with bewildered
eyes. Derek looks hounded, head hunched and either fixed on his
shoes, between embarassement and real anxiety. He stay close to Stiles, and Stiles looks at his beautiful face and marvels.
Sometimes, Derek even takes notes.
Stiles is madly in love after forty five
I don’t know I don’t have the time to write this, but if someone feels like it, please, pleeeease tag me in it.
I was digging through my drafts folder and found this random, mostly finished little ficlet. So I polished it up and present you with some random Hannigram.
Hannibal greatly enjoyed
the times when he got to linger in the bowels of the FBI as he was today,
leaning over a lightly putrefied body with contained fascination as Jack’s
forensic team fussed around him. Admittedly, much of that enjoyment came from
the fact that Will was generally nearby and often endearingly vulnerable in
this environment, but even when Jack dragged Will away to his office – which he
had done just ten minutes ago – Hannibal still took great pleasure in the
chance to brush up on his understanding of the FBI’s inner workings. Indeed, he
had spent a very entertaining forty-five minutes discussing the use of turmeric
in fingerprint identification with Mr Price, the knowledge of which already had
Hannibal both rethinking his post-kill clean up routine and considering whether
he had anything in his freezer that might work well in a curry. Something
delicate and fragrant, to go with the flank of that appalling parking attendant
from the previous week, who had been sadly lacking in either quality.
It was, therefore, with
pleasant images of arranging his next tableau – something involving flowers,
perhaps, for Will – thronging in his head that Hannibal followed behind Price,
Zeller and Ms. Katz as they made their way to the break room, having decided
that they would make no further progress in the case without “choking down a
disgusting amount of sugar,” according to Ms. Katz. Hannibal had nowhere
pressing to be, after all, and would happily wait the whole afternoon in order
to see Will again once he was released from Jack’s clutches.
That thought might have
given Hannibal pause on any other day. However, just at the moment it crossed his
mind, he happened to witness the greatest atrocity of his life.
“Oops, butterfingers!” Ms
Katz trilled, as a glazed, rainbow-sprinkled doughnut slipped her grasp and
landed on the floor, sprinkles down. And then Hannibal watched in fascinated
horror as she bent to retrieve the soiled pastry, blew on it and, shrugging, said
the words that struck disgust into Hannibal’s very soul.
“Five second rule!”
And then she ate it.
Hannibal had to leave the
room. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to vomit otherwise.
Will caught up with him
later in his lecture hall, where Hannibal was restoring inner harmony by
rearranging the library of his mind palace. He had developed his own shelving
system – the Dewey Decimal was hardly up to scratch – and was replacing some
volumes of poetry when the smell of aged paper was joined by the ever-welcome
scent of Will’s presence. Hannibal opened his eyes to find the profiler
regarding him with a mildly concerned expression, perhaps discomfited by
Hannibal’s apparent lapse into a vegetative state. Hannibal had yet to
introduce Will to his palace, though of course versions of him already resided
in many of its rooms.
“Hello Will,” Hannibal
said, assuming a placid and affable tone in order to reassure his friend that
he was perfectly well.
Will, somewhat worryingly,
was not fooled, his magnificent brows drawing together in concern. Hannibal
automatically catalogued the expression for future commitment to paper. He would
have to find several hours soon to do so: his mental file of unrecorded images
of Will was becoming somewhat unwieldy. Perhaps one day he would be able to
coax Will to pose for him in the flesh. Perhaps in nothing but the flesh, his
beautiful form freed from all that frumpy, everyman plaid, the firm, strong
plains of his muscles exposed for Hannibal’s perusal…
“Is something wrong,
Doctor?” Will asked, pulling Hannibal from his reverie, his tone brusque as
ever but tinged with genuine care, the presence of which caused something to
tighten painfully in Hannibal’s chest. He sighed and decided it could do no
harm to inform Will of his friend’s unhygienic crassness. Will would likely
brush it off as perfectly acceptable behaviour, causing a little tarnish to his
appeal that Hannibal would be rather grateful of at that moment.
“Will, have you ever heard
of something called the ‘Five Second Rule’?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep his
mouth from twisting into a slight moue.
Will looked up at him in
surprise and then slapped his hand across his eyes. “Please tell me Bev did not
do that in front of you,” he groaned.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow,
amused by Will’s apparent embarrassment.
“I’m afraid to say she
did,” he said, gently despite his stomach lurching slightly at the thought.
“You do not approve?”
“Doctor, I live with a
pack of dogs. Do you really think I would eat anything that had come into
contact with my floor?” Will grinned and Hannibal’s breath hitched. “And I’m
pretty certain I clean my floor more than most people, present company
excluded.” Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “I keep telling Bev she needs to
stop, it’s a really filthy habit.”
And then, well, there
really was nothing for it but to close the gap between them and kiss Will, firm
and sure and with just the slightest brush of tongue to really get the point
“Hannibal!” Will pulled
back and Hannibal reflected ruefully that he would have preferred the first
time Will addressed him by his first name not to have been with such shock in
“I must apologise, Will.
That was not how I had planned…” he trailed off as Will’s eyes snapped up to
“Plan? What plan? There
was a plan?” Will asked, his eyebrows threatening to detach completely from his
head and rocket skywards.
Ah yes, the plan. The one
in which Hannibal would – with the help of Will’s rapidly worsening
encephalitis – break the empath, frame him and imprison him, to be kept under
lock and key until the time might come when Hannibal wished to play with Will’s
brain once more. The plan which, Hannibal now realised, he had not thought
through with his usual precision, because it would be inconvenient to have to
visit the BSHCI every time he wished to kiss Will. The plan which would now
have to be abandoned completely because there was little… there was absolutely
no chance Hannibal was not going to keep kissing Will, now that he had started.
Kissing and, with any luck, much, much more. Assuming Will would let him, that
Will, who had pulled back
but not out of Hannibal’s embrace.
Will, who was looking up
at Hannibal from beneath those ridiculous, beautiful lashes.
Will, who was very
definitely smirking and leaning in close to whisper in his doctor’s ear, “Well,
Hannibal, it seems you don’t have a
problem with all filthy things.”
And it was true because,
as they soon found out, there were some things Hannibal was very happy to eat
off the floor, even after they’d been there much longer than five seconds.