mind over matter

Isabella Morales. 29. Surgery Resident. Wife. [Dependent RP blog for London Falling]

[isabellamorales]

calebdraper​:

Caleb’s mouth curves up at the corner as Isabella says her name. "Caleb.“ He was almost sure that he knew her name, Achara probably mentioned Isabella once or twice and he’d just never put the name to the face until now. However, it was always nice to meet a friend of a friend, especially one who was as easy on the eye as Isabella. Caleb moved through their apartment and back over to the coffee table where his mug had previously been abandoned and then brought it back to the small kitchen. 

"Ooh, don’t mind if do." Caleb did not need to be told twice. If someone was offering food, baked goods in particular, he would never say no. "Tea or coffee?" he asked as he places his mug on the counter and goes through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it back down to boil, grabbing an extra mug for Isabella.

.

“Pleasure.” Isabella offered him a kind smile. “Always lovely to meet a friend of a friend. Are you in medicine as well?” It was an easy enough conversation starter, and besides, it wasn’t too wild of her to assume that someone who knew Achara was also involved in medicine. Though, Isabella supposed, certainly not all of her friends were connected to the medical world, so perhaps Caleb wasn’t, either.

“The least I can do for intruding on your space.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tea, please, if you don’t mind. With milk, too. Thank you.” She sat on one of the stools in the kitchen. “I can make it though, if it’s too much trouble for you.”

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

“Oh so you think nail technicians only lounge around all day,” he gave her a broad smile. Typical. He liked to tease her with Sun worthy comments such as those. Mastering the art of the sophism was literally child’s play, and Thomas was well aware of that. This was the only reason he’d allow himself to tease her with that. He could have argued with examples and actual facts, but that was something he saved for people he didn’t like. As far as he was concerned, he was fine with letting her win every fight they’d ever have, as few as they came.

“As a birthday present? Is that your subtle way to let me know you wanna get laid on your birthday?” His tone still one of teasing, his mouth formed a comically shocked O while his brows furrowed with faux-surprise. “Isabella Solana Morales, who raised you!” His laughter soon filled the room while he reached out to put his hand over her cheek. “I’ll make sure to double wrap it up, but message understood.” Alright, now he was being a dick. With another amused smile, he picked up a bit of food with his finger and brought it to his mouth.

“We’ll have kids, just… you know, we have time. You’ve got to finish your residency, and you know, I’m still working on…” he had trouble calling it a book, and manuscript felt too posh for someone who could act smug all day all to unveil hidden insecurity to those who truly knew him. “Sooner than later now. We won’t wait another ten years,” and the look he gave her then felt like a promise made with blood.

“And I can be the man of your dream,” she knew that he had an aversion for lies (how terribly ironic), but only when they were said to him, and so, he had no desire for his wife to pretend to be anyone else. “I’m betting she’ll say it’s £5 a banana,” he finished his food and reached out to grab the apple he’d picked up for dessert.

With a shake of his head, he took a bit from it. The Sun, paying extra? No, right wing people were very proud to claim that hard work should be rewarded, but they never mentioned who was to be rewarded. Fun fact:  not the hard working one. “Ugh, Camilo served me the same soup,” come on Thomas, couldn’t you do something else? Work for another paper? He supposed he could, but what if he wasn’t good enough? What if he could no longer balance out his two lives, overwork himself and slip? That would be a lot worse than working for the Sun. “Deal, I’ll let you read all the awful things I gotta say about it,” he promised, kissing her back with a light smile.

“I never said that,” she stuck her tongue out at him, “I meant that if I had all the time to get manicures and could then just sit around at home, I’d be really quite terribly bored.” She knew that they both knew that, which was why jokes like this worked. They both understood one another on a sort of incredible level - though, Isabella supposed, part of that likely had to do with the fact that they’d been involved for a full decade, now.

“I mean, if you’re offering, that’s pretty much the best birthday present I can think of. I don’t need more stuff, so having you all to myself for my birthday would be pretty much ideal.” She grinned. “Also, that was only marginally more subtle than that party back when I was nineteen and tried to get you to sleep with me in our friend’s bed.” Isabella giggled. “Oh, my parents did.” She looked straight at him, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “Think you’ve met them. Gabriela and Carlos? Brilliantly big fans of you. My father literally made you a family recipe the first time you came over to meet them?” She shrugged. “Though I’ve always been told I am rather independent, so I don’t know if my parents can be directly blamed for my behavior.” She smiled into his hand. “You-” she narrowed her eyes in false frustration (though, on a certain level, those jokes did sometimes bother her) - but his next words caused her smile to brighten again.

“Certainly not another ten years. Besides, I can manage to have a kid while I’m finishing things up. You know both your parents and mine would happily care for said child - not that we should think of relying on those things, but they will love their grandchild and would probably offer the moment we told them that they’ll be grandparents, so...” She pressed a kiss against his hand.

“You already are.” Another shrug. “But I do think I’ll stay just as I am, since I wouldn’t want to risk actually turning out anything like Mrs. Meagan Finley.” Another face. “At a minimum.” She took another bit of her food, grabbing the orange he’d brought her for dessert.

“We’re not working together, honest. Unless you think that’d work?” She looked over to him with wide eyes. “Good, I absolutely cannot wait.” 

[isabellamorales]

meaganfinley​:

“I’m ridiculous?” Meagan’s palm flattened against her chest, eyes wide with shock, appalled by the audacity. She may not have known Spanish, but she could understand some words. It only stood to reason that she was threatening her in the moment. “I’ll have you know that this attitude of yours is not welcome, and it is not doing you any favors.” How dare this unprovoked woman suddenly become provoked! Meagan kept her stake firmly atop the higher ground, planting a flag there and calling it her own.

“As if I would know who your husband is, if you have one.” She always doubted it. It was hard to trust con-artists and their slippery words. “Though,” she went on, playing to her make-believe point, “it would be suspicious for you not to. What reason would you have not to take on the last name of the man you supposedly love? What commitment is that?”

.

“Sí,” She responded, one eyebrow raised. “Just a bit, at least - or rather, your attitude makes it appear that way. I understand that initial or semi-initial impressions can be inaccurate, though, so forgive me if I’ve somehow miscalculated your personality.” She very much doubted that she had, but from all that Thomas had told her about Meagan, she also knew that she had to tread carefully, because the last thing she wanted was to have some sort of guards called on her. “I am sorry it is not doing me any favors, but I also do not appreciate being accused of stealing identities just out of the blue. Feels more than a bit awful.” 

“I do have one.” Isabella made a face. “Why is it suspicious? I’m a doctor, and I’ve earned the title on my own, not with my husband’s last name. It’s quite a commitment I have to him, being that I’ve been with him for ten years, and he’s the only person I’ve ever really been with, other than a brief time of dating someone in secondary school.”

[airiblackwood]

☆ﾟ*·ﾟANYONE THAT KNEW Airi well enough knew that she was bound to get in trouble, in some way or another. Even though she adored anything that gave her an adrenaline rush, she somehow managed to get herself hurt. Whether it was risking herself to save a baby bear over a cliff, or climbing up a tree to get the perfect shot. Today, it was that baby bear, just looking so incredibly cute and crying for its mother. She couldn't help herself, at all. And because she found herself tumbling down, Airi was now in the hospital with a concussion. She sighed, laying down in the ER bed. Looking over at one of the nurses, she flashed them a bright smile. "Please get me Dr. Isabella. She's the only one I trust with my head." Airi couldn't help but giggle. She did trust Isabella with her head, it was true, but mostly she just missed her. It'd weirdly been a while since she's somehow injured herself, and Isabella just worked too much. When she saw her walking up towards her, she flashed that adorable grin again. "Hi Issy! Miss me?"

@isabellamorales

[isabellamorales]

She’d been grabbing a coffee when her buzzer had paged, requesting her in the A&E. Which wasn’t where she normally went - or not for a little while now, but she was nothing if not willing to help in any circumstance she could, and in the world of medicine, she had more than a little bit of a leg up on things.

There was a small part of her that almost turned on her heel to go the other way when she spotted Airi. She adored the other woman, but seeing her once again in the A&E worried her. “Hello Airi, and I mean, yes, of course, but I’d rather we go and eat too much Chinese food than you form a habit of winding up here whenever you want to see me.” She waved one of the other doctors away. “What happened this time?” She offered Airi’s hand a small squeeze. 

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

“Ah, ah.” He tilted his head as she didn’t fail to remind him that she had hands worth a lot more gold than most of London. That was usually when he went on to grab her palm to give it a peck. With her fingers against his lips, the man smiled at his wife. “Worth a fortune, but they won’t let you put nail polish on.” He noted. That was a bit petty, and selfish, but he’d wished she could have had more than the holidays to pamper herself.

“Not this again,” he scoffed. “And I still can’t believe I’m the one who has to draw the line more often than it is you,” because if he’d listened to her, they’d have shagged on a mutual’s friend’s bed while drunk at a birthday party, gotten married at 20 and 24, most likely would have had kids before they were done with classes and quite frankly, they would have had a much different life then, wouldn’t they? He still had no reason to believe he would have loved her any less for it. “I know, I know. No need for self-depreciation.” He let go of her hand, and with a light smile, picked up his fork again.

“I mean, if we can’t afford to go on vacation, what’s the point of working all year long,” he pointed out. “I don’t think that’ll make us turn into the Finleys.” A pause. “Note to self, ask Meagan how much a banana is worth.” Of course, he had the one Lucille Bluth in mind as he thought about that. Shaking his head, he denied her the trouble of worrying for him. “Enough, let me do things for you, you know I like that.”

She questioned him about his job, and he pursed his lips, as though reflecting on whether she could get an idea of what he was up to. Of course, he’d stay quiet on the other reason why he came here tonight, but she could hear about what he was doing for the Sun. “Oh they’re having me follow Zadie Lewis-Ray of sunshine again. You know I loooooove,” jesus fucking christ, “following spoilt brats around town. It’s not like she will let this stop her from fucking up.” A pause. “I got contacted by this … guy again. You know, the hacker or… whatever he is. I’ll show it to you once I’m done.” He took more pride in taking down a politician than stalking a byproduct of nepotism, although he certainly stood by the statement “eat the rich”. “Same old.”

“It’s a tragedy, but I do understand their reasoning...” Isabella offered him a grin - the feeling of his lips on her hand all together familiar and comforting. “I mean, I can still get hand massages, but I suppose this is what I signed up for, and as much as I like manicures, I’m much happier getting to do medicine than I’d be if I was just lounging around all day.”

She giggled at his remark. “Yes, this again.” It made her smile - both thinking about how everything had begun, as well as the fact that from the moment they’d met, Thomas had proven himself to be someone who was always looking out for others - always looking out for her, and how was she supposed to be anything other than entirely charmed by that? He’d even had to be the one to remind her of the importance of their marrying in a church, given that both of their parents would have been nothing less than furious if it had gone any other way. “Will you do that raised eyebrow thing at me if I once again ask for us to become parents as a birthday present?” Isabella offered him a bright smile. “No self-depreciation ever.” She grabbed another bite of her food.

“Too true. It’s important to take time for one’s self.” She made a face. “Goodness knows I hope we’ll never turn into them. If it’s really something you’re into, I can always act like a stuck up rich woman, but I’d prefer not to actually really become one.” Isabella grinned. “Please do, and let me know what she says.” She offered him a shrug, “fine, fine, I will. You doing things for me is always wildly appreciated. So I will.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Are they paying you double for that?” Another bite of food, her foot resting against her husband’s leg. “I just feel like you could be doing most anything else and it’d be more productive, but at least if you’ve got to follow her around town, you get to spend time outside, which is a sort of win?” Her posture straightened at his next remark. “I’d love to see it once you’re done.” She adjusted her position and pressed another kiss against his lips. “Whoops, I just happen to be feeling awfully greedy tonight.”

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

“Oh she’s doing well. She got herself a new job at the nail salon,” not that it did anything to the state of his hands, clearly. “Maybe she’s gonna agree to giving me a … hand care… thing.” He pressed his lips together. Alright, skin care may not have been his forte. He’d only recently been introduced to hand cream and was still not entirely sold on that. “Look, it’s not that I care about what they think of you,” because he knew no one could possibly dislike her. Biased much. “But it’s in my best interest if no one finds out you’re both hot and smart.” He returned her smile. Though he’d aged, there still was a boyish quality to it. “I think we balance each other out in that matter. I provide absolutely useless work and you save people’s lives,” he wasn’t even bitter about it, just honest. Isabella knew that this wasn’t his dream job, and that he’d rather put his energy in creative writing than this joke they labelled as journalism. It was a damn shame he happened to be good at it, but digging up dirt about people was just too close to what he did in his side life.

“Well, it pays well at least,” the pay was alright. He made roughly the same amount working for the Jolly Rogers, if you didn’t count the bonuses he got every now and then, but all that money was sent to another account. He let the money launderer handle the details. If he was good with numbers, he really couldn’t do with finances and administrative work. “I’ll see if I can postpone it though, or see if someone can replace me,” he assured her. And he’d ask Emilio, or Javier. Both knew her, and he doubted they’d say no. “If they let you go home on time,” he pointed out, because this was a public hospital (which he was thankful for), and they more often than not needed the doctors to stay a bit longer.

“Oh yes,” Isabella grinned, pure amusement etched across her face. “I’ve heard that ‘hand care things’ are all the rage at nail salons these days.” She raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I’m sure she’s good good hands, anyhow, you’ve got to, to work at a nail salon. Wish I could think of someone else who’s got to have expertly working and literally the potential-to-be-insured hands. Shame I cannot.” She scrunched up her nose. “That’s fair. Wouldn’t want that getting out - the whole smart and hot thing. Though you know, now I can say ‘yes, I am, and my husband is lucky enough to have me, and I am luck to have had him for a total of ten years now, though only five married, but that’s mostly because he refused to propose to me when I was twenty.” She made a small face. “We do balance each other out, though I’d say more, I analyze things, and you create. Aren’t you supposed to be kind to yourself.” Isabella stuck out her tongue. She knew that his work at the Sun was hardly something that he planned to do for the rest of his life, but it paid the bills while letting him go off and explore his own other interests, and she’d never be anything but supportive about him doing whatever it took to pursue his passions.

“It does.” She nodded, “though you know I don’t need a fancy or lavish lifestyle. I’ve heard that too much of that can make you stuck up and unable to properly talk to people. Though I will admit to thoroughly adoring all our many vacations.” Another shrug. “I mean, I’m always honored to have you postpone things for me, but I also wouldn’t want you to get into any sort of trouble on my account.” Isabella yawned briefly, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s true - they do tend to need us to stay around, and if I wind up in a surgery, it’s not as though I can just up and leave - lives at stake and all that.” She ran her foot along his leg. “Is there anything you’re working on for work that you can tell me about?”

[isabellamorales]

meaganfinley​:

@isabellamorales​

There’s something familiar about this woman. Meagan’s hawk-like vision is trained on the occasional profile glance she’s given of the person in front of her whilst she’s in the queue. She’s seen her somewhere and it’s driving her insane. The only hint she’s given is the feeling she gets in the pit of her stomach at the sight of her, something that twists up and feels wrong. It’s only when she speaks do the pieces come together, triggering the first lady to step to the side, morally-bound to speak up.

“I see you.” It’s a call-out. A threat. Oh, she sees, all right! She sees the conwoman right in front of her! “Whose identity are you stealing now?”

.

The prime minister’s wife was not someone who Isabella particularly enjoyed running into. She knew Thomas got a great deal more amusement out of it, and she supported him fully (as she did in all of his many ventures), but there was something about talking with Meagan and her ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude that made Isabella tick - and she liked to think that she wasn’t always someone easily ticked off.

“Oh no,” Isabella made her eyes wider, false fear and concern crossing her face. “Have I been caught? Me, a medical resident, who has had to undergo strict background checks, is certainly behaving in an illegal manner.” She moved to the side to grab her latte. “You’ve seen me at different functions. Eres ridícula!” Isabella doubted very much that the woman in front of her spoke anything other than English - “is this just because I didn’t take my husband’s last name upon marrying him?”

[isabellamorales]

oftheives​:

@isabellamorales​   –  at caleb & achara’s apartment.

Sundays were intended to be lazy days of doing nothing and they were Caleb’s favourite day of the week. Sprawled across the couch in loungewear as opposed to the stuffy black suit he’d worn for work, watching reruns of the Great British Bake-Off and the apartment to himself for a while – what could be better? His favourite episodes were the older one with Mel and Sue; their comedic dynamic was gold, though he didn’t just watch for the banter and the jokes. Caleb was always fascinated with the imagination of the bakers. He could never create such an extravagant and perfectly executed show-stopper piece however, he’d never even attempted to bake anything in his life. He didn’t plan to either. He’d stick to watching rather than doing.

When a knock at the door interrupts him he pauses the tv, and groans as he pushes up from his place on the couch and stands. He drinks the last of the coffee, face scrunching up as it had gone cold sitting on the coffee table. The mug is placed back down before heading over to the door and opening it to see one of Achara’s friends. “Alright?” he greeted casually. “Achara has just popped out.”  he walks away leaving the door open for them to enter. “You’re free to wait around if you want - fancy a brew?”

.

She hadn’t texted Achara beforehand, instead just deciding to surprise her friend - on a day she figured there was at least a good chance of them both having off. Not that Isabella was particularly the sort to surprise people often (unless it was Thomas, and involved something private, for just the two of them), but she both hoped and figured that Achara would both be free and alright with the sudden surprise. She’d brought along a bag of some pastries, and quickly made her way up to the door and gave it a sharp knock.

Someone who was distinctly not Achara - but who she remembered, at least partially, and her friend’s roommate, opened the door. “I - yes. Isabella.” He hadn’t asked, but she figured it was at least polite enough to tell him. “Sure, if it wouldn’t be too much of an intrusion on you.” She held up the bag of pastries. “I got too many for Achara and myself, so if you’d like one, you’re welcome to it.”

[isabellamorales]

medihc​:

@isabellamorales​

Survival is a gift.   Or is it inherited?   Passed down generations until it finds root in the weaker ones.  Until it bursts up into a tree,  mid-summer,   bark dry and on fire.  There is always something burning in her.  Hot embers that crackle and sizzle,  remain unscathed by the cold hand of death that had tried to drag her down into the grave.   She has endured,  but the ground is still open.   Mouth cracked and bleeding,  teeth the old roots that are chipped away by frost and the angry flooding of rains.  Those who escape death are doomed to greet it sooner,  and there will be no mercy.   This is the cause of paranoia in her mind.    A constant shifting of the desire to run and the determination to stay.   She had found herself alive  —    albeit broken and a bit softer-spined than she remembered,   but externally whole.   This is good.   This is the meaty approach of something worth fighting for.  Nonetheless,   she sinks into the routine.   A state of comfort:    paperwork unending,   supply deliveries and pick-ups,   reapplying clean bandages to healing wounds,  applying stitches to open gashes being a large part of her day to day.    This is why the interruption in her office is appreciated,  yet has her off-balance   —   the mundane pattern of her graveyard shift is sliced down the middle.    Selena smiles in greeting at the familiar face,    the coffee cup offered her way is gratefully accepted with a curt nod.    ‘How did you know I’d be here this late?’    A pause,   she brings the edge of the cup to her bottom lip to blow on it to cool it a moment before taking a hesitant sip.    ‘I appreciate the visit   […]   you must have had a long day at the hospital.’ 

She’d elected to stop by her friend’s work. A surprise, bringing coffee with her. She enjoyed Selena’s company - though they were in different areas of the medical field, there was something about being in that sort of profession that sort of brought people together, it would have seemed. Some underlying and unspoken connection.

She grinned at her friend. “Wild guess. Also the fact that you are incredibly dedicated to your job, so...” Isabella trailed off. “Long day, yes, but it is my job,” a shrug, “and one I love a great deal, and so long days have never felt so long except, admittedly, when I’d rather be at home with my husband.”

[isabellamorales]

Thomas comes home to two wrapped gifts - a portfolio wallet and another cologne for him to try.

Isabella has included a small note, written in script that is actually quite good (she is insistent about this, given the reputation of doctors’ handwriting).

I have known you for so long, and yet it never feels like enough.

I love you forever, and then just a little bit more.

There’s also a chance of a gift that I can’t wrap later on tonight. Or perhaps two.

Yours,

Isabella

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

“You’re right. I meant Yolanda,” which was the name he’d given to the faux side piece he supposedly had when she wasn’t around. Isabella had one of her own, a mysteriously fake hunk called Manolo. The terrible names were picked carefully, and even after all these years of existence of the made up lovers, it never failed to made him smile. “You? Fascinated with the blob of slimy grey matter in people’s head? First time I hear of it, honestly.” It would have worried anyone, but he found it endearing. She was obsessed with all things brain related. He personally didn’t get it, but he doubted she’d understand some of his obsessions either, or that one experiment he led with skulls and different types of hammers and angles.

“Mmmh, I bet. I prefer the writers to the journalists at work.” Because most of them wanted to get out of here whereas most journalists took pride in being here. He didn’t mind working for The Sun. It was effortless and it gave him time to do his second job and work on that novel of his. Hypothetically at least. These days, he was having a hard time juggling the two, tangled as he was with one major article. He’d properly worked on that one, but it was also a lot less trashy than what he usually wrote too. “Saturday? I’ll have to check my schedule. I think I might have something in the morning,” it was at 11am, someone called Cathleen Roberts that needed to disappear. He didn’t know or care why. “I most likely won’t wait another three hours,” he agreed, finally. “Maybe I’ll head home and try to think of something to do this Saturday. We could go somewhere by train,” he offered.

.

“Must’ve been her.” She mused for a moment. “How’s she doing these days, by the way?” Though any properly formed indiscretions on Thomas’ part would have left her heartbroken, their little made up lovers amused her to no end. “It’s true, I’m certain I have never, not once, brought up my love and fascination for it. You certainly never banned me from talking about it too much back at parties when I was in school.” Isabella grinned. “Luckily now I’m surrounded by people who do at least tolerate conversations about it, for the most part. All the research could save lives, you know.” A pause, “well, I mean, it does, since without medical advancements we’d be quite out of luck when it comes to curing and helping people.”

Another nod, “I can imagine that. Though you’re the best journalist anyhow, no contest, but still...”  she trailed off, “I think you deserve better than what they give you to work with, but I might be heavily biased, and in the end, you being there does improve the quality of the journalism at least tenfold.” Isabella gave him another smile, “I could spend the morning going on a much-wished-for run, if you’ve got morning plans.” With another kiss on his lips, she broke away. “Going somewhere by train sounds wonderful. You can surprise me, if you wish - though I may have to surprise you with a trip some other weekend.” A glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Tomorrow at least, I think, I’ll be done earlier, so we can actually go to bed together, rather than apart.”

[isabellamorales]

javiervidal​:

where: outside the hospital when: lunch time with: @isabellamorales​​

“Well, if it ain’t the prettiest future-neurosurgeon in London!” Javier greets cheerfully, dropping his cigarillo on the ground and crushing it beneath his boot as Isabella emerges from the hospital - he seems to have missed the ‘no smoking’ sign posted on the wall behind him. It’s been over a year since they saw each other last, but Javier thinks nothing of opening his arms for a hug as she approaches him. “How’ve you been, darlin’? Not working yourself too hard, I hope?”

.

“You’re flattering me.” Isabella blew a strand of hair out of her face, fallen loose from the ponytail she’d been wearing her entire shift. “But thank you, I’m closer and closer to that every day.” She raised an eyebrow at the cigarillo on the ground, but only briefly - the expression crossed her face for hardly even half a second, and she didn’t bother paying much attention to the sign. So long as he didn’t smoke in the hospital, she didn’t mind all too much - Thomas smoked, and she was far more focused on the fact that she’d run into someone who was close to Thomas after not seeing him for just about a year, maybe a bit longer. She steps into his hug, the feeling welcome as she grins up at him. 

“Thomas would likely say I am working myself too hard, but he makes sure that I take time for myself - and for us. I’ll say, the whole five years of marriage thing? Still works wonders for making me not only focus on work.” She offered Javier a smile. “How are you doing? Absolutely wonderful to run into you,” and the smile that covered her face bears a sense of truth - it is, Javier was someone who, even though she did not see him too often, she always enjoyed his company. “If you’re looking for my husband, I’m afraid he’s not about right now.”

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

“Mmm, someone’s been spending a bit too much time around me,” he grinned. Thomas was notorious for many things, and one of them was his ego which ranged at time from the size of the planet to the size of a chickpea depending on the day and the hour. “I don’t want to alarm you, but they do say neurosurgeons have a tendency to act like they invented hazelnut spread.” Or toasted bread, which he found inferior to the spread. “Absolutely. Bit chatty, but you know I don’t mind gossip all that much,” or rather, he didn’t mind stories in general. That was a sound way to keep him listening. Opinions, he didn’t care much for, but stories? He’d taken advantage of that to retrieve a badge from one of them. He had to get into ICU to finish a job and apparently, you couldn’t just get in there. Now all he had to do was get into scrubs and he’d be good to go. “I hope I did, because I told them all about your quirky habits,” he did not. As much as he liked chatting up people, he didn’t like to share things about himself, and he respected his wife’s privacy as much as his own. “Decent,” he teased, and with a yawn, shifted in his seat before he took his first bite. “How long do you have left after this?” He asked with another yawn.

“Who, me?” She giggled. “Couldn’t be.” It was true that perhaps in moments she was over-confident in her abilities, but that tended to only be around medicine - there were plenty of other times and places where she felt like retreating back into a quieter, more invisible version of herself. “Well, of all the things to invent, that is a brilliant one, so...” Isabella’s voice trailed off. “I mean, I suppose that even within the level of medicine that is surgery, it’s rather next level, considering we’re legitimately in charge of people’s brains.” Another grin. “Which, as you are acutely aware of, I’ve always been fascinated by.” Quite a bit so, so much so that he’d had to give her multiple reminders to not just discuss brains at different parties they’d gone to years ago. 

“You’re awfully kind to say that, but I appreciate you talking with my coworkers. Truth be told, I like a lot of the nurses more than some of the other doctors at times.” She ran a hand along his arm. “Oh, wonderful,” she rolled her eyes, though the smile on her lips showed that she was anything but frustrated. “Which quirky habits would those have been?” She raised an eyebrow. “Only decent? How might I work my way up to above average, or better, exceeds expectations?” She hummed, grabbing a fork and taking a bit of the food. “Another three hours, I think? You should go home and sleep, once we’re done with the food. Keep the bed warm and all that. I’ve got Saturday off this week, so maybe we could do something, just the two of us, that day?” Isabella took another bite of the food, “as wonderful as these nights are, I do like having time just us.”

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

Pressing the heel of his hand against his eye, he scoffed as she bragged about knowing more than the neurosurgeon.  “You’re bragging,” he commented. It was a good look, confidence, and one he’d always find attractive. “As you should. Guy sounds like a tool.” Saving and closing his laptop, he pushed it into his backpack and turning back toward her, reached around her to wrap her in his arms. He wasn’t always the hugging type (he wouldn’t have his other coworkers find out about that), but there was a warmth, a sense of home in being close to her.

“It’s fine. I need to finish this either way, and I got some work done,” a pause. “Went on a smoke break with the nurses,” he let go but his chin remained on her shoulder as he gave her cheek a peck. “You might have said it about 2 days ago, which I find absolutely revolting.” With an amused grin grazing his lips, Thomas leaned into his seat and pulled his food container into his lap, which while not proper, always felt more effective to him.

"Is it bragging if it’s just highlighting the truth?” Isabella offered him a shrug, “I mean, I guess if you want to get all into the semantics of it, it could be, but...” she trailed off, flashing another smile at him. “He is a bit of a jerk. But I’m learning, which is what I’m supposed to do, even if some of the learning is on my own time.” She relaxed against him, in awe (as-ever) at how quickly she found herself at ease when he was nearby. How he made her feel giddy with excitement and simultaneously extremely calm - still, after all the years they’d been together.

“I’m glad you got work done, and I hope the nurses were nice to you, though at least a few of them have commented on the fact that my husband is very attractive - well, them and some others. Apparently you make a lasting impression.” She grabbed her own container of food, letting out a light scoff at his comment. “Well, it is true, so I am sorry to hear that you find it revolting. I’ll find some way to get you to forgive me. I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at that over the past ten years, hm?”

[isabellamorales]

thomas-reyes​:

—   Location : The Hospital Break Room  —  Somewhere near midnight —   With @isabellamorales

This wasn’t his idea of a romantic move, but rather what he considered him being a decent husband. He could work anywhere, and his darling wife would eventually have a break in her shift. He’d come to the hospital after 8 hours of her having been hard at work, figuring that she’d soon have some time to stop and share the Thursday evening part of their meal prep. Yawning to the point of making his jaw pop, he gave his watch a glance, blowing a raspberry as he noticed that the felt 15 minutes had only been 3. It was probably best if he went back to working on this large brief they had in store for next month.

She greeted him with a kiss, before sliding into the seat next to him. “Let me tell you that my attending neurosurgeon today might actually know less than I do.” A sigh. “Which isn’t intended as an insult, but rather a statement of fact.” She poked at his ankle with the toe of her shoe, “but you should be proud of me, I didn’t correct him too much. I actually happen to like my job, and would prefer to not give him reason to fire me.”

Isabella reached out a hand to take some of the food from Thomas. “And as cool as some of the things I’ve seen today are, this is still the highlight of my shift.” A grin, “how are you? You know I’m always grateful that you’re willing to stay up this late for me.” She reached over to place another kiss on the side of his lips. “Have I mentioned lately that you are the absolute dream of a husband?”

[oldschoolteenflicks]

That Old Feeling (1997) dir. by Carl Reiner

i.e. That’s, like, really dumb. Who talks like that?

[isabellamorales]

thomas-jacobs​:

“I think you and I would be just as happy if we eloped right now and told everyone we got married in Bath, Notting Hill or let’s be wild, the church around the corner,” both were places she held dear, either because they were charged with history, either for the irresistible aesthetic of them rather than religious reasons. Thomas just knew his parents would throw a fit if he married out of the church. Neither of them would have approved of that non sense. 

“Rules for you? Have fun, don’t talk to anyone about brains, unless they start getting too chummy, then get gory and nasty,” with a snide smile, he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “Ah, well, I was a bit busy covering every angle. And you know, I still managed to get a few sneaky portraits of you,” he pointed out. “So it wasn’t a complete waste of an evening.”

“I think that is exactly true.” She grabbed his hands in hers and looked up at him. “You know we could always do it in secret, and then have some sort of parental approved proper wedding later on?” Isabella’s grin turned just ever-so mischievous. 

“But brains are cool, right? You at least agree with that. I’ve seen you smile when I start talking about research articles.” She relaxed into his arms. “Oh?” She turned to look up at him, “well, that’s lovely, especially since even if I am cute, I wasn’t the main attraction at the event. Though you’ve always been able to get the best photos of people - not just me - that I’ve ever seen.”