#I do have a doctor (I have had...so many doctors)

[callilypso]

II ▷ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 — " cold hands, warm hearts "

part 1 of the 𝐥&𝐝𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 [other parts: xavier, rafayel, sylus]

— exploring Zayne as a father, both of Your children’s relationships with You and their Dad, as well as delving into their passions and personalities

note: each LI has different MCs, meaning each child/ren of the other LIs have different mothers and aren't related

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, fluff, and flufffff, some crack, and some teeny bit of angst (if you squint); the kids are ocs

❥ a/n: i have many, many plans for all of these babies >:) there's nothing too serious yet i promise. feel free to add more of your own ideas i would looove to know them i will srsly cry in joy. pls be nice tho c:

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𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 has two children: an eldest son and his youngest, a daughter. He is The Dad™ amongst all dads, and I know most would agree. He's a very hands-on father, and definitely the stricter one between the two of you especially when it comes to their health. Unfortunately, his babies took after some of their mother's uh.. concerning habits, but nonetheless, he will never get tired of taking care of his family. As much as they can be a source of stress for his poor heart, his joy will always be from them too.

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐘 — “Cae”, ”Ace”

his eldest, name based from Caleb in his honor (assuming he is truly dead at this time), and Zayne thought it was perfect

he is a literal Carbon Copy of Zayne, except his eyes shaped and color like his mother's

as a baby, he rarely cried and whined, almost picture perfect, however.. it was an absolute pain when they were trying to start feeding him solids

grew up to be a picky eater even well into his adulthood, very particular about textures and smells. he absolutely hates ketchup and anything with tomato sauce, dislikes sour-sweet things and any seafood

You had an idea to try giving him a teensy bit of chocolate at age 2, and he hated it—the sticky texture was off putting

it had Zayne doubting for a moment if Casey was truly his offspring as if he wasn't there to witness the delivery, your hand crushing his in a grip he wasn't sure was physically possible without breaking each other's hands.

Zayne learned to adjust to his needs though, trying to accommodate both his preferences as well as still giving him the proper nutrition. MC at least taught him to try anything just at least once

his role model was truly his Dad, adopting his gentleman mannerisms and kindness for others

would often be brought to work with Zayne after school, behaving well in his office as he browses through some of his Dad's medical books, and would ask him questions to clarify

a lot of questions, sometimes Zayne gets a little too distracted but he will never blame the sweet boy

little darling of the Akso hospital, always greeted by the nurses and doctors of the facilities as he passes by trying to snoop around

he looooves the nurses’ desk, listening intently at all the different stories about their daily life as health workers, from sad to crazy to funny 

would often be given chocolate much to his dismay.. it all ends up going to Zayne and his sister in the end

a smart, reliable, kind, and generous boy, eager to help others in need inspired by both his parents and his healthcare workers environment

from helping his struggling classmates to understand the lessons better, to assisting the elderly cross a busy street

can be a little bit of a people pleaser… just a tiny bit (a lot)

Zayne and MC has never given or voiced expectations on what standards he should be, unfortunately, it doesn't stop outsiders from doing so

growing up, he's felt the weight with each whisper—he is the son of The Dr. Zayne, best cardiologist of his generation in the whole country

it's genuinely one of his inspirations to strive for the best, although in his teens it kind of grows into a toxic perfectionism and competitive comparisons

that's right, he's the burnt out overachiever, a constant at the Dean's List, hence why his peers started to call him “Ace”

disciplined and responsible, although can be prone to anxiety

as a brother, he's protective of his little sister too, sometimes he even outdoes both You and Zayne in strictness.

he likes to think he's a lot more restrained but he's actually very readable.. the boy cannot lie to save his life

a natural approachable charismatic leader

since he was a child, he was Zayne’s own personal 'physician' after work, giving his Dad a full ‘check up’ because he knows being a doctor is hard, but truthfully Zayne’s stress melts away the moment he's greeted by his beaming grin as he runs into his arms, his son's baby shampoo and fresh laundry scent calming his senses instantly

he treats him with shoulder rubs, hand massages, forehead massages, even learning to brew Zayne’s prefered coffee blend, and ah yes with his daily dose of much needed sweets

his relationship with you.. let's just say you get double the doctor now, aka you're very well taken care of and yes, you're also getting treated with the same little services he does for his Dad

although as he grew older, he started being more concerned at the amount of sweets his Dad takes 

If Zayne's constantly pestering you about your health, now he's getting a taste of his own medicine by a mini version of him hiding his stashes of sweets little by little

��Son, we don't have a history of diabetes in our heredity.” Zayne argues, as Casey hugs his stash of chocolates he swore he's hidden in his locked drawer.

“But that doesn't mean you can't.. A small chance is still a chance. ” Cae retorts back as he pinches his nose bridge, and Zayne swears he's looking at a mirror right now.

“How do you even..” Zayne sighs, feeling both proud and defeated because his 8 year old little genius son is actually right. “Cae, I haven't even gotten any sweets this entire day.”

“You had cake, ice cream, and chocolates yesterday—and a smoothie!”

Zayne sighs again, heavier. Unfortunately, that was also true, and it shouldn't have been something he knew about unless..

"Did your mom put you up to this?" Zayne asks. Casey shifts on his feet, averting his gaze, clearly uncomfortable being eyed by his father at the moment. A smile quirks on Zayne's lips.

"No.." Casey answers after a beat of silence, clearly a lie, and Zayne wants to pinch his puffed cheeks. He looked more like you at that moment, absolutely adorable. Something was squeezing Zayne's chest right now.

"Hm.. Well, do I at least get another alternative?" Zayne tries to bargain.

"Um.. I don't know..?" Casey answers honestly.

Zayne settles down his swivel chair, arms beckoning him to come closer, and Casey does. He gets pulled on his father's left thigh, eyes confused at Zayne snickering at him.

"Since you lied—" Cae tenses in his hold, "—I'm just gonna chew you instead."

"Wha—No!" Casey begins to helplessly wiggle out of Zayne's secure grip, but his cheek was already being bitten by his dad. No real teeth, as Zayne tucked his lips inward to cover them.

The office was filled with childish giggling as Zayne continues to relieves his stress through cuteness aggression, play biting and tickling him to near tears.

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 — “Lili” , “Lianne”

youngest daughter with a 4 year age gap from Casey, and to say the least: a Danger Magnet

single handed increased Zayne's gray hairs and high blood pressure tendencies before age 40 

the baby proofing of the house gets doubled

truly a spitting image of You, except with her father's verdant green and hazel golden eyes

even more unfortunate for Zayne, she's got your prankster habits

she's double jointed, making her extremely flexible.. and also prone to dislocations.

she does a backflip in front of Zayne and he nearly dies of a heart attack because he thought she would crack her head open

at age 3, put lotion on Zayne's coffee. no one knows the reason why, except now you hide all your skincare somewhere else and Zayne now knows what SPF tastes like

at age 4, attempted to wrestle with a wild goose at the park, towering over her small frame.. her battle scars are still evident well into her teens

at age 5, managed to get a hold of some alcohol thinking it was juice… yeh You and Zayne can never ever rest

but despite all that, Zayne, You, and Casey are extremely supportive of her passion as a figure skater

saw Yuzuru Hanyu once live and it stuck to her ever since, begging and crying Zayne and You to allow her to train

growing up, she's The Yapper of the family—doesn’t matter if you listen to her or not, she will talk. sometimes it's like Zayne's personal white noise ASMR to lull him to sleep.

and contrary to all that's happened in her childhood, she does value her family's trust in her, especially Zayne's

and is actually very responsible, never does alcohol (she remembers the taste ever since.. it was not nice), hates the smell of smoke/vape, never goes beyond the curfew, and actually takes good care of her health and wellness more consistently than Casey ironically

competitive at heart, also a perfectionist.. maybe a little more than Cae. 

‘second place is the first loser’ mentality 

at age of 19, she's an internationally competitive and well renowned skater

her relationship with her Dad has its ups and downs, but she's never taken their misunderstandings into grudges, as communication is very important to her to establish trust

if her brother is acts of service in showing love, she's definitely quality of time

she's very outgoing, preferring to spend time together doing activities, from simple night walks in the park, coffee hang outs, to wall climbing and hiking

literally gets bored out her mind staying at home for more than half a day

a major travel girlie, with a vast collection of photos and vlogs—and you bet Zayne has them all watched and saved (and its also her way of documentation that, yes, she's in fact safe and sound)

the family will always try to attend every major competition Lianne has no matter how busy they get, securing tickets and lodgings months in advance if it's overseas

Zayne's chest swells with pride, watching her glide gracefully on ice, burning passion in her eyes. You squeeze his hand and hold your breath every single time she's about to attempt a triple axle, and he too would squeeze back. immediately, you would squeal in delight at her successful landings, cheering loudly and borderline embarrassing.

“THAT'S MY GIRL!!” 

both of you have witnessed the blood, sweat, and tears she's poured in every practice, being there for her as much you can every step of the way

definitely shares the same sweet tooth as Zayne, so they're sneaking each other sweets behind You and Cae’s back.

often jokes that she's Zayne's true child because of it and Cae just rolls his eyes at her every time. "Nothing screams father-daughter more than matching cavities I guess."

Zayne and Lianne have their favorite spots for their sweet tooth adventures, most notably their whole family’s favorite: Destiny's Cafe

Walking down Linkon City’s city lights, the cool autumn night air blows through the streets. It made Lianne shiver, snuggling closer to her father's arm she's hooked her own to. Zayne raises his eyebrow at her, placing a hand over hers.

He sighs. “This is why you should have taken that scarf, Lili.”

“Eh, it's fiiine—I’m always on ice, this is nothing. Plus, I have my dad.” Lianne leans on his shoulder and she throws him a smile, and he returns it.

“You really know what to say, hm?” He chuckles. 

They arrive at their usual night cafe spot, soaking in the warmth provided by the establishment. Lianne insisted she would be the one treating them tonight, Zayne relenting reluctantly after some time.

“You know, your brother would be scolding us again if he sees us here for the third time this week.” Zayne chuckles as their slices of cake and cups of coffee arrive on their table.

Lianne laughs. “Don't worryyy, he's on duty until tomorrow morning, and Mom can't snitch either since she's on a mission. Besides..” she trails off as she took a bite of her own slice, Zayne not catching the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Zayne takes a piece in his mouth, and as he began to chew, the moistness of the sweet treat was both familiar and.. wrong. He looks back up at her, seeing her little smirk.

“.. it's a healthy cake.” 

“!—Lianne-” Zayne hastily swallows the piece and downs his coffee as she began to laugh at his agony of realization.

It was Casey's favorite flavor: carrot cake.

11:11──────────────────────────|──

acc tags: @starmocha @77gigabytes tysm for your zayne kids hcs aaaaa they rlly inspired me more and i got rlly excited when my own hcs appeared in urs <333

[taojjang]

riize in an argument

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: angst, warnings: cussing, jealousy, medication, lovebombing, (light) forced affection pink text > reader blue text > riize

♡⸝⸝ getting into petty arguments with your boyfriend

shotaro . . . can't understand why you don't trust him.

the two of you had just gotten home from a dinner date, which shotaro thought had gone well but apparently not. shotaro was confused as to why you were suddenly silent during the drive home. "are you tired, honey? you're not talking much." he figured you were just sleepy since you didn't respond, only quietly resting your head against the window.

after the two of you changed from your date clothes and unwound for the night, shotaro grew concerned. he could tell you were upset about something, but he couldn't tell what. he kept poking at you, reaching to pry at your silence. "did i upset you honey? did i say something wrong?" you took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, finally deciding to come out of your silence. "i don't like how you were talking to the waitress." shotaro tilted his head and stepped closer to you. "what do you mean?" "you know what i mean, shotaro. you saw how she was looking at you. you were even giving in.. you flirted back." shotaro slightly furrowed his eyebrows and lightly held your hand. "what flirting, honey? i was only being nice to her." you began growing frustrated by how innocent he was acting. "you're just so oblivious sometimes, taro. you think i couldn't see the looks you were exchanging with her? she was all over you, you should've known her intentions." shotaro scoffed and let go of your hand. he felt quite hurt that he spent so much effort taking you out for a nice dinner just for you to accuse him of dedicating his time to another woman. "she was just being nice and i was returning her energy. you're just overanalyzing like you always do."

as soon as those words left shotaro's lips, your heart began to sting. taro's eyes softened as he realized what he'd said to you. you nodded and grabbed your pillow, standing up to leave. you kept silent knowing the ache in your throat would soon turn to tears. taro held your hand and tried pleading with you; "i didn't mean it like that honey, i just-" "no, it's fine." you pulled your wrist out of his weak grip and muttered a defeated "goodnight" before leaving to spend the night on the couch. once the door shut behind you, taro sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath as he realized how much he'd just hurt you.

eunseok . . . can't tolerate your disobedience.

he was cleaning the bathroom when he saw your pill case sitting on the counter. he sighed and snatched the full case off of the counter, walking to the living room to confront you.

you sat confused as your boyfriend held the box of pills in your face. "hm..?" "darling, how many times do i have to tell you to take your medicine?" he sighed and looked down at the 3 days worth of forgotten pills in the tin. "i'm not your doctor, i can't keep reminding you. it's getting tiring." you sighed and threw your head back in frustration. this was a common thing for eunseok to bring up every so often, but it was getting exhausting. "then you don't have to keep reminding me, seok. i'm also tired of it." eunseok scoffed and bit his lip. "tired of what? me looking out for you?" you wanted to roll your eyes at his condescending tone. you always hated how arrogant he gets, thinking he's so much smarter than you and telling you off like you're a misbehaving toddler. "no, seok. i'm just tired of taking these stupid pills all the time. i'll live without them for a few days. i don't like it when you're bossy like this." eunseok bit his lip at your ungrateful tone grating at his ears. he looked down at you with a stern glare, squinting in annoyance. "making sure you're healthy is being bossy? you're being a brat, y/n. i wouldn't have to be 'bossy' if you listened to me and at least tried to get better. you're just lazy." you felt your blood boil as you poked your tongue through your cheek. you were far more than angry at this point. you looked up at him and huffed, "i'm not lazy for being sick of taking pills every day. all i want is for you to chill out and stop shoving pills in my face all the time. i'll be fine." eunseok sighed and nodded, tossing the case on the table in front of you. "alright, then. i'll stop caring so much. fuck, i can't stand you sometimes."

it's not rare for the two of you to get mean during arguments, but it is rare for eunseok to say something that hurts you this much. you didn't expect to feel your heart aching after simply choosing not to take your medication. despite wanting to snap back at him, all you could do was nod, snatching the pills off the counter and swallowing them in one go. even after saying something so blunt, eunseok couldn't help but worry about your sudden silence and compliance. you stood up and put the pill case into the pocket of your hoodie. you swallow back a mixture of frustrated insults and hurt tears as you look up at him with glossy eyes. "i'll leave you alone since you can't stand me so badly." you coldly walk past him to the front door, slamming it behind you. eunseok sighed and walked back to the bathroom, hoping to distract himself from the idea that he'd just crossed the line.

sungchan . . . can't tolerate your mood swings.

as much as he hates to admit it, you're hard to handle. no matter how well he treats you or how much he spoils you, you'll still come home and find a reason to be sad. but he can't understand that sometimes you just need time alone. you had a long day at work and simply wanted to come home and recharge, looking forward to lying down and maybe watching your comfort show. but sungchan had other plans for you. as much as you love him, it gets tiring to be suffocated with cuddles when you just need time alone. today, you couldn't suppress your discomfort. you just didn't expect sungchan to get so angry.

"my fault for wanting to comfort you when you're upset." sungchan let go of your waist and moved to the opposite side of your bed. you sighed and sat up, turning to him. "thank you, sungchan. i'm really not mad at you, i just need time alone sometimes." you tried reassuring him once you heard his pained tone, but to no avail. "you ever think i need comfort, too? i had a horrible day and you can't even hug me for a few minutes?" for a second, you thought he was joking. but once you saw the angered expression on his face, your smile dropped. "baby, are you serious? i had a shitty day, too. all i need is some time alone. why are you taking it so personally?" "because it feels personal, y/n. you're pushing me away when i was just trying to make you feel better." you felt almost sickened by how ridiculous he sounded. you've already had a terrible day and you certainly weren't in the mood to argue. "that's not what i mean, sungchan, and you know it. all i'm asking is to be alone." sungchan seemingly felt the same way, leaving one last message before avoiding the conflict. "fine, didn't know i bothered you so much. don't bother coming to me later."

sungchan stormed out of the room. soon, the echo of his bedroom door slamming shut rang through the house. though you got what you wanted, your bed began feeling empty. you wanted to sleep it off, but the guilt now felt heavier than your fatigue.

wonbin . . . can't fathom the idea of losing.

wonbin is so adorably whiny. so adorable that you like to tease him just to hear him cry "stop it!" you admit to being a little too harsh sometimes when he gets frustrated with you, but you can't help yourself. wonbin is just too cute :( when the two of you play games, he's always whining about losing. if he's winning, he'll be giggling and having the time of his life— but god forbid it's the opposite.

"ah, this is getting annoying!" wonbin whined, moving farther from the table. you laughed and gestured at the pile of cards in front of you. "your turn! come on, at least try to beat me!" wonbin sighed and tossed another card on the table. before he knew it, your cards were almost used up and you were this close to winning the game. "this isn't fun anymore." wonbin groaned, leaning back with a pout on his face. you sighed and joked, "baby, you're always complaining. such a sore loser!" but something about your teasing ticked wonbin off. his sulky demeanor soon turned bitter and he gave you a resentful glare. "i wouldn't have to complain if you didn't get all cocky every time you won. you never give me a chance." wonbin's whiny complaints were beginning to get to you. you felt as if he was blaming you for his losses. "i'm just playing the game. it's not my fault i'm good at it." you immediately regretted your defense when the deck of cards were slammed onto the table in front of you. "gosh, i fucking get it y/n." wonbin stood up and stormed off, mumbling "this is why i can't do anything with you."

you felt your heart tear at his empty-hearted words. with the slam of his bedroom door, your tears began falling down your face. you never thought a simple card game would drive wonbin to this level of annoyance. you stood up and put the cards back into the box while considering whether to apologize or leave him be. you stand in front of his bedroom door, hesitantly muttering through your shaky breath, "i'm gonna go home now." you stood there like an idiot waiting for a reply, but you heard nothing other than the tapping of your tears dripping onto the hardwood floor.

seunghan . . . can't understand why his affection hurts you.

it's rare for the two of you to argue since seunghan travels extra lengths to make sure you're happy. after all, you're his entire world and he'd give up anything to keep you satisfied. but that's why so many problems go unanswered. whenever there's an issue between the two of you, seunghan just tugs you into a hug and tries to take your mind off of your frustration while the problem sits in the dust.

"it's called love bombing," you explain to seunghan, who was staring at you with confused yet hurt eyes. "i know you're just trying to make me happy, but it's bringing up so many more problems than we need, love." seunghan looked down at your hands and furrowed his eyebrows. "well, how? does my affection not fix anything? wouldn't you rather cuddle than argue all night?" you sighed and bit your lip in frustration. seunghan had expected you to agree, but his heart began hurting once you shook your head. "that's the problem, seunghan. making up without resolving anything is only making things worse for us. you need to talk to me, love. i can't keep kissing you to forget how hurt i am." seunghan felt all of his efforts go to waste. he'd truly hoped his affection could mend every rift between you two, but he was mistaken. seunghan picked up his phone from the bed and stood up. "i'm sorry, y/n. i just thought maybe my love would be enough to fix things."

seunghan turned around and made his way to the bedroom door, utilizing every ounce of strength in him to refrain from kissing you goodnight. "i promise i'll work on communicating, just... not yet. i don't know if i can speak to you right now. goodnight." seunghan left feeling shattered and simply exhausted from the confrontation. though you'd finally been able to address a longstanding issue, you felt everything but relief. now, both you and your crushed boyfriend wouldn't sleep a wink.

sohee . . . can't understand the concept of distance.

these past few days, sohee's noticed how different you've been acting. you've been coming to his house less and when he'd visit you, your attention was never completely his. worried, sohee brought up his concern to you, you brushing it off and telling him it's exam season, you've just been super drained from school. it all started to make sense, but that didn't solve any of his concerns. if anything, he was even more worried for your wellbeing, wondering how you could care for yourself if you don't even have the time to sit and talk with him for more than 10 minutes. so he began coming over more often to take care of you and keep your house tidy while you worked hard on your laptop. all of this hard work, yet you wouldn't let him sleep over.

"what..? why can't i?" sohee asked, hand frozen reaching for the pajamas he'd brought. "i'm just so exhausted, baby, i'm sorry. maybe you could sleep over when my exams are all finished..?" sohee was confused. he started to believe you weren't tired of the exams, but him. you noticed the sullen look forming on his face. you place your hand on his cheek and sent him a reassuring yet weak smile. "it's nothing personal, alright? i'm just tired." you'd expected sohee to understand, but his eyes shot up to you with an unfamiliar dark glint in them. "but you're making it personal, y/n. you can't even look at me when i'm beside you, not even for a second. are you tired of your work or me?" your heart rate began rapidly rising as sohee grew more and more frantic. "what makes you think i'm tired of you? i told you, i'm just tired. i want to rest alone, is that so terrible? i'm only-" "you don't have to keep making up excuses. i'll leave if you want me to but i'm not gonna let you lie to my face. stop sugarcoating it and tell me, y/n, you're just tired of me, aren't you?" you wanted to tell him he was wrong; he was the only escape you had from your excruciatingly repetitive schedule, yet he only believed you wanted to get rid of him. you tried to explain your feelings, yet all you could manage to do was scream, "you're not listening to me!" sohee scoffed at your sudden yelling. he bit his lip and picked up his bags, muttering, "there's nothing to listen to. there's no excuse you can make for not wanting anything to do with me."

you panicked as sohee left the room. you wanted to explain to him that he was completely mistaken and he was all you needed, but he wouldn't let you speak. you sighed as the front door slammed shut, the cold air leaking inside and stinging your tear-stained cheeks.

anton . . . can't let go of even the smallest slip-ups.

don't get me wrong— anton is the most forgiving boyfriend in the world. he could still smile and give you a goodnight kiss even if you ate the leftovers he'd been saving for dinner. but small things you do can lead him to make drastic assumptions about your relationship. last night, you were so exhausted that you'd forgotten to say your nightly "i love you" before hanging up on him. of course, you love him to death, but you were simply so tired after the horrible day you'd had that it'd slipped your mind since all you could think about was your bed. while you were knocked out cold, anton was sitting with his knees pressed against his chest, wondering if he'd done something wrong to not deserve an i-love-you. your poor baby is just a chronic overthinker.

"do you still love me..?" anton asked, sitting beside you on your bed while gently holding your hand. you let out a sleepy giggle, slowly nodding. "of course i do, silly. what makes you ask?" anton swallowed back his uncertainty and explained, "i don't know... you just didn't say 'i love you' last night before you hung up. i thought maybe i did something wrong." you let out a long sigh and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. "that means nothing, dummy. i was just so tired, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?" things should've ended here, but anton just could not brush off his insecurity. "but you didn't say it..! it's such a normal thing now, how could you forget to say it? do you really not love me anymore?" anton was deeply hurt that you forgot such a crucial part of your regular routine with him, but you didn't realize how important this was to him. it only hurt to know all of your efforts to make him happy were blown away by this minuscule mistake. you'd been so busy and stressed with how packed your schedule was. nevertheless, you still tried your hardest to make time for your boyfriend. yet this one mistake lead him to believe you had no love for him. you were beyond frustrated. "i've been trying so hard to make sure you feel loved, anton. i keep in contact with you all day no matter how occupied i am and i still find time to cook dinner for you while i still have shitloads of homework waiting for me. how do i not love you?" anton was taken aback by the intimidating change in tone. your sudden anger only worsened his anxious overthinking. but of course, he remained avoidant. anton let go of your hand and nodded, looking down at his hand. "i'm really sorry, y/n. i didn't mean to make you angry. goodnight, love you."

you didn't realize your anger had scared him off until he left your room with tears in his eyes. regret pooled in your stomach and you began feeling sick. nothing hurt more than seeing that inconsolable look on your baby's face. tears made their way to your eyes as your mind traced the idea that you were the worst girlfriend you could possibly be.

—

(a/n: my first time writing angst..! i hope this was okay... it hurts so much writing angst without a happy ending :( if you're like me and need closure after every angst you read, there's a part two coming! do not fret my sensitive sisters 🙂‍↕️)

[feminist-space]

"Joy Spence, 21, said she visited emergency departments at two hospitals in St. John's over the course of nearly two weeks this May.

What began as weakness and abdominal pain on her right side quickly deteriorated into blacking out from the agony in her torso.

But no matter how dire her symptoms got, doctors kept sending her home.

"They would just tell me, 'Your bloodwork's normal, there's nothing we can do.' They would send me home, then same thing again," she said. "I would go back again. They would get me to do the bloodwork, say everything's normal."

Ultrasound and CT scans apparently turned up nothing, but Spence, in such severe pain, says she had no option but to keep returning to the hospital, where she says she was eventually left screaming in a waiting room, ignored by hospital staff.

"If somebody doesn't help me, I'm going to die," she recalls wailing, watching doctors and nurses pass her by.

At one point, she was dismissed outright by a walk-in clinic nurse, she adds.

"Somebody said to me, 'I don't know what you expect me to do,'" she said. "'You're a healthy 21-year-old young female.'"

One night, she says, her boyfriend had to help her into an ambulance. Spence was in so much pain she couldn't stay conscious and stand on her own.

"I remember the man in the ambulance telling me … how often he sees other young women going into the hospital and seeing them be misdiagnosed and not taken seriously," she said, speaking through tears.

"He said that he would do his best to … get things going for me."

Spence says she went to an ER at the Health Sciences Centre or St. Clare's Mercy Hospital about 10 times over a 12-day period, beginning on May 21. She also visited her family doctor, who could do little except tell her to speak directly to the surgeon at Health Sciences Centre, she said.

Each time she saw a doctor, she says, she was sent home and told to dance around her living room or do yoga to cure what physicians believed was anxiety or sluggish bowels.

"I had so many laxatives," Spence recalls. "I would tell them … nothing's even coming out anymore. It's not just this, I don't think. But no, they were dead set on the constipation and only constipation. Like, it can only be that."

...

Spence says doctors only began to take her seriously once she began vomiting in a Health Sciences Centre hallway. The contents of her stomach were green and black.

An older doctor walking past her happened to notice, stopping in his tracks. Spence says he immediately identified the issue as appendicitis.

At that doctor's urging, Spence was finally wheeled into an operating room, where she says her burst appendix — now gangrenous — was removed.

"I think when I walked into the room and they seen a 21-year-old young girl, they immediately dismissed me and thought that there couldn't be anything wrong with me," Spence said.

"I was not on their minds and not on their radar. And if they didn't have that preconceived idea of me, those thoughts wouldn't have been formed and maybe I would have gotten the proper care that I should have."

...

Spence is still struggling to recover from her ordeal. Physically, she's now fine: her appendix was removed and her stitches have healed.

But she's lost an alarming amount of weight, she says, wakes up gasping in the middle of the night and can't stop herself from crying whenever she remembers the hospital.

"I've been losing a lot of hair," she said. "Mentally, it's just been a struggle."

Spence only received an apology from the health authority after CBC News requested comment and confirmed that Spence had done an interview — a move she says felt hollow and frustrating, since the manager who called her didn't give her an explanation about why she was repeatedly ignored while waiting to be admitted.

The ripple effect from her illness, and how she says she was treated when seeking care, has uprooted her life. She's taken a year off her studies in Memorial University's social work program and has lost her job. She's looking for trauma therapy, but now doesn't have the money to pay for it, she says.

"I think as young women we're always told what we're supposed to do, how we're supposed to think, and not to trust our instincts," she said.

"But most of the time … the gut instinct is right. I knew I was sick. I knew what was happening wasn't right, and I could have died if I didn't keep going back to the hospital.

"If I had listened to those doctors and went back home — what could have really happened?""

[caught-tumbling]

A diagnosis means access to treatment. Before I was diagnosed with POTS I was just fainting constantly and no one knew why or how to make it stop. Because I have a diagnosis I have a way to make my symptoms manageable.

A diagnosis means community. I can find people who share my ADHD experience and I don't feel as alone or like I'm crazy.

A diagnosis means knowledge and strategies. Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome doesn't have a cure but I have found a million shortcuts, products, and strategies to make my life easier. If I didn't have a diagnosis I wouldn't know where to begin and I would be far more disabled than I currently am.

A diagnosis means medical safety. My doctors know to take a different approach with me because of my Ehlers-Danlos. My anesthesiologist knows I won't react normally to anesthetic, my surgeon knows to stitch me up differently to accommodate my fragile skin, my physical therapist knows to offer me more support to keep me from hyperextending my joints, etc. Before I had a diagnosis medical staff accidentally hurt me because they didn't have that vital info. (Unfortunately a stigmatized diagnosis can work against you so it can be a downside as well but that's for an individual to decide)

A diagnosis means accommodations. Many workplaces, government organizations, and private companies require proof of diagnosis rather than proof of symptoms. So if you don't have an explanation for your symptoms you're out of luck.

A diagnosis means validation. I was told my fainting was anxiety, that my chronic pain was in my head, that my bipolar depression was because of my period, even though none of that made sense. But if enough "experts" tell you that your experiences are wrong.... you start to believe them. You start to wonder if you can trust yourself. The test came back normal, the doctor says I'm fine, I don't know anyone else that has this problem, maybe I don't actually have a problem at all. Maybe I'm making it up, maybe I just need to tough it out, maybe I'm "doing this" for attention like they say. And that seriously fucks with your head especially if it happens for years. A diagnosis says that you're not crazy, you're not making it up, you were right. I cannot overstate the relief of knowing that you can actually trust yourself

Many people view a diagnosis as if you go in for a normal checkup and are given a cancer diagnosis out of the blue. And yeah that happens, but most of us KNEW there was something wrong we just didn't have a name for it. The name itself doesn't hurt you. But lacking that name can kill you

I don't think healthy people realize how for chronically ill people getting a diagnosis isn't sad or even disappointing for us, it's a relief and a vindication. So many people with chronic illnesses take many years to get diagnosed, and are told that 'it's just anxiety/your period/psychological' or that we're exaggerating or that everyone experiences that, so for us getting a diagnosis is being told that we weren't faking it and that this wasn't normal and it's also finally knowing what exactly is going on in our bodies.

I think many healthy people think of it as if it were them being told they have this lifelong debilitating illness, and they would feel awful because they are going from perfectly healthy to disabled, but they don't fully realize that we already have all the symptoms and impacts of said chronic illness and that we are just finally finding out the name, and that knowing what it is means that we have access to more treatments and more knowledge as to what we can to do alleviate our symptoms.

[reallyromealone]

Part 3 to surprise you’re a dad plz 🥺

Title: surpsie you're a dad 3

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Haitani brothers

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Rindō x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, pregnancy, birth, angst, fluff, good uncle ran

Notes: short chapter low brain energy

Summary: birth and hard conversations

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Six weeks?"

"At minimum" the doctor said simply "and he isn't to lift anything heavier than his pup" Rindō and Ran nodded, glancing at a fast asleep (name) who just finished feeding the tiny baby that was (daughters name), said baby was tucked in Rans arms as Rindō was terrified of holding her.

It had been three hours and Rindō could barely look at his child or his mate, he was terrified.

He didn't know what to do in this situation.

He didn't know how to be a dad!

And Ran was somehow a way better parent figure to his kid and he was an uncle!

Ran watched his brother, he could see the things going on in his head and the stress he was under "you know you got this, right?" Ran said honestly, big brother mode activating while looking at his terrified baby brother, seeing the young boy who he always made sure had a meal on his plate. "Look at her" Ran said simply, gazing at the tiny bundle "this kid is a Haitani, she is one of us and as you're dad it's your duty to be better than ours could ever be" his voice serious while he gently put Rindōs daughter in his arms "she's so small..." Rindō choked out, holding her close and sitting in a chair "she is, even if you and (name) don't work, she will always be a consistent and by proxy so will he"

"Yeah..."

"Serious question, Rinny" Rans voice was methodical while gently tracing the wisps of hair from his nieces head "do you want it to work with (name)?" He asked so calm and collected while Rindō sighed "I fucked up enough" he grumbled out and Ran snorted "you sure did, you called him a whore in so many new fun ways! It's going to take a lot to earn his trust"

"I don't think he will, how would I even get him to do that?"

"Maybe start with an apology"

"An apology?" Rindō was incredulous and Rindō rolled his eyes and leaned into his chair "we are hardened criminals, we do what we want but he is the mother to your child, he is your mate" Ran said seriously "our world means nothing compared to family, an apology can fix a lot of things and open many doors" ran said before leaning close and locking eyes with his younger brother before whispering;

"So apologize"

And with that, Ran stood up and pulled his cigarette holder "I'm leaving now, you better make sure he isn't being stupid or I swear to god"

And with that, Rindō was left in the room with his sleeping mate who hated him and his infant daughter who gurgled up at him, wide eyed "hey..." He whispered and gently took the babies finger "I'm your dad..." He whispered to the little girl who looked at him with nothing but pure curiousity and Rindō couldn't help but smile at this pup.... His pup.

He was a dad now.

Looking up he stared at (name), the Omega spent and out cold in the comfortable bed with many pillows ran made sure (name) had.

Ran was right, he was so obsessed with (name) when he met him at that party... He was absolutely stunning...

Would (name) forgive him?

He was awful to him even up to the birth...

(Name) Held onto his son while being discharged, Ran returning with a BMW armored van and a shit eating grin "there's my beautiful neice~" ran cooed while he and Rindō helped (name) get situated, (name) glaring at Rindō while the Alpha buckled in (daughters name) into her car seat "I got you two some food! Also I stocked up your fridge, (name)!" Ran always the doting but brother knew Rindō still hadn't apologized but could see him working up the confidence for it.

"We'll be alternating whose with you, we worked out a schedule so you're never alone!" Ran said happily and (name) suppressed a sigh at the concept of having to be near his daughters sire for prolonged periods of time and hopefully not kill the Kanto manji member.

(Name) Ate his food quietly, exhausted "drive slower" (name) hissed out and Ran looked back from the rearview mirror "were going at the speed limit (name)"

"Don't care." (Name)s instincts were going haywire "drive. Slower." He hissed out and ran began driving slower at the furious pharamones that made Rindō crack a window "thank you" (name) focused his attention to (daughters name) who was so peaceful before pulling out his phone and placing the screen under her nose to check her breathing and let out a content sigh.

"Rindō is on first watch as I have business to attend to but don't worry I'll bring you two souvenirs!"

(Name) Glared at Rindō and Rindō looked anywhere but him "you know you don't have to, I know you're not thrilled about parenting" (name) didn't even ask for this...

"I want to be there for you two"

"Why...?" (Name) Was suspicious of the alphas words, he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"...let's get (daughters name) in bed then let's talk"

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] Bojan Cvjetićanin: We miss our family members the most (Suzy)

Original article written by Tomaž Mihelič for Slovenske novice on 08.11.2024, PHOTO: Vita Orehek, Mediaspeed. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by @kurooscoffee, proofread by IG Gboleyn123

Already living the dream of every rocker in your early twenties is unimaginable to most. But not for Joker Out.

Full article under the cut 👇

Bojan is very attached to his mum. (ph: Mediaspeed)

08.11.2024 at 06:00

Upon release of their newest album, we spoke with the singer and songwriter, who told us how radically their lives have changed in the past year, revealed the pitfalls of fame and told us why there aren't many reasons to be optimistic. We also found out who the boys miss the most when they are away from home for months at a time.

“In the last year and a half, we have already completed five tours in Slovenia and Europe. We are slowly heading towards the next one. I have to admit, it’s an incredible feeling when you make your childhood dreams come true,” a good humoured Bojan starts the conversation. “It seems like science fiction to us and we still haven’t quite managed to get used to these previously unknown dimensions. It takes our breath away, when we arrive somewhere new, in a different country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovene for an hour and a half,” he tries to describe his impressions.

The most precious moments are those with family. Apart from sister Tijana and mother, paediatrician Dr. Snežana Cvjetićanin, the only one missing in the photo is the father, senior doctor Branko Cvjetićanin. (ph: Mediaspeed)

“We are marching quickly towards an inevitable doom. Why false optimism, when we see innocent children being slaughtered while those responsible turn a blind eye?"

As brothers

He says it's hard to get used to them not being home. It is a special strange feeling, not only for them, but also for the fans who are preparing for their performance in good faith and are dutifully learning this foreign language they’ve never heard before. “Maintaining close contact with our fans requires an enormous amount of energy, but they give it back to us in abundance, so there is pure love flowing between us. We've had our share of challenges, especially among ourselves, because we spend a lot of time together with the boys. It is no longer a friendly or business relationship, but a kind of partnership. Maybe it's more appropriate if I say that we are like brothers," outlines the close ties between the five musicians.

“The moods flow from very beautiful to friction, frustrations, creative holes and successes. There are ups and downs and you have to be able to navigate between them. In principle, we have not allowed our ego to take the lead. If you process and filter your concerns on the fly, they are easier to control. At the same time, we have producer Žare Pak with us as a kind of psychotherapist. An immense help to us are also genuine relationships with colleagues from the industry, as we learn and resolve many things through conversations with them. Sometimes you even inadvertently get some useful advice,” he smiles.

“It's really bizarre that we sell out halls like that and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We hired it with our own money and our own achievements.”

When you don’t feel at home at home

It's a great achievement to be able to make a living from music these days. Let alone that you manage to do it while you're still studying. Joker Out are the exception, not the rule. But every triumph carries consequences, especially in enormous emotional ranges. From the euphoria, when thousands of people are screaming in front of you, to the emptiness that occurs backstage or in a hotel room. “What confused me the most was the feeling that at home, I no longer felt homely anymore because we had been abroad for so long. I was really lost, that's when my parents and sister came to my aid. We are a very close family, we talk openly about everything and these relationships save lives. Mother's food and advice, father's wisdom, Tijana's sincere hugs have healing power,” he says gratefully.

The author of all of the lyrics and the first voice of the band is happy to have a genuine brotherly relationship with the boys. (ph: Vita Orehek)

Having never travelled much before, he wasn't used to spending weeks away from the safety of home. “The circumstances of literally living out of a suitcase for a year and a half turned everything upside down. When I returned to Slovenia, it seemed strange to me that I had to get used to the fact that we wouldn't be going on the road for a while. I had to give it time. A few laps around Ljubljana and the proximity of best friends was enough for everything to fall back into place.”

Following the paths of world legends

He can be relieved that he is not subject to the various temptations that characterise extreme emotional fluctuations. On the one hand, fame and public expectations, on the other, inner struggles and the desire for privacy. “It seems to me that it is all a result of upbringing. My parents instilled in me the right amount of self-confidence, a healthy self-image and trust in myself and those closest to me. This is the foundation for solving any problem. Once I got rid of the panic attacks on stage, I found contact with my old self. Switching between private and crazy stage dynamics has fortunately never been a problem for me,” he says honestly. For the lay public, it is good to point out that Joker Out performs at iconic venues in European capitals.

They drive around in the grand buses we see in the movies, but for them it's all reality. “And none of this has changed us to the point of rising above the others. We still keep our essence: authenticity is the most valuable. A few times we've had to literally pinch ourselves when we've arrived at some legendary club where bands like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and the like once played, and now we're standing on that stage. Before the concert, we got our hands on a book with the signatures of the performers and could hardly believe that our name would now be among them. It's really bizarre that we sell out a venue like this and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We rented it with our own money and our own achievements,” marvels Cvjetićanin. As a result of the aforementioned panic attacks, he has not been able to truly appreciate all that he has received, and during a retrospective of the last period, he points out: “Even as children, we did not dare to imagine that one day we would experience all this.”

Nothing fell from the sky

And how do they keep from being blinded by all the glamour? “In reality, there is no luxury at all. We don't have luxury cars and villas waiting for us at home. We are not treated to economic excess. We still go home to the same people. I am sure that none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account. We are by nature very diligent and hard-working. We do get lucky sometimes and things work out in our favour, but that would not be the case if we were bored and waiting for something to fall out of the sky. We have always strived for success and we are proud of the results we have achieved so far. Now we have to find a common sense limit as to when we are satisfied. When we can say to ourselves that we are happy with what we have and not endlessly strive for more. What makes me happy is creating, making music, hanging out with quality people, good food, getting a good night’s sleep, which I manage to catch despite my busy schedule,” he winks mischievously, before we focus on his love. Song writing. Some authors are constantly under pressure to produce a hit.

Joker Out uses music to draw attention to current issues in our society. (ph: Primož Lukežič)

Is he one of them? “No way! I don't make music to please other people, it has to vibrate for me first. There is no such thing as a good song. It's subjective to taste. You can talk about pressure when you have to finish an album. There are time constraints and a vision of how we want to present ourselves as a band. Here, we are faced with chasing compromises and healthy, middle ground to make sure everyone is happy with the product. Time is the biggest enemy of all creatives. Especially those who have a project in mind. There's always too little of it,” he says.

Why false optimism?!

Joker Out's songs carry important messages. They will not give up this principle. Although, for the first time ever, we will see a little pessimism on the new album. “Inspiration comes from all sides and the theme is self-confessional. It's not hard to find inspiration to write nowadays. We live in terribly 'messed up', hypocritical times, where something is happening on every front. I am a sentient being and the horrors in the world touch me quite a bit. We also deal with such topics. There are so many injustices happening globally every day that deserve a voice, but people generally only stand up for those that they feel are important enough. When human rights are clearly violated, we as a band feel compelled to express our opinion. But we don't always do so, because it is impossible, because for every war there are hundreds of others that we as a society simply overlook. We are silent,” he digs at the wound of modern civilisation.

“It takes our breath away when we arrive somewhere new, in another country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovenian for an hour and a half.”

And what shocks, angers, saddens him the most? “That there are no rules and you can do whatever you want if you have enough power or capital. That everything is allowed and applauded, no matter how bloody it is. The legal world, the rule of law, organisations of any kind are plain bullshit, because the chosen elites do not have to abide by any laws”, he is blunt and horrified that new generations have to bear the consequences of greed. “We have come so far as a community that it affects creativity. With one song, for the first time, I went into complete pessimism, with no turn to positivity. It's a story in which I express fear and distrust that things could be better. We are marching fast towards the inevitable doom. Why the false optimism when we are witnessing live the slaughter of innocent children while those responsible turn a blind eye?” he criticises, before falling silent for a few moments.

Finally, however, he turns to the light, to the forthcoming showcase concert tour.

“We have a lot of rehearsals ahead of us to make sure the songs are familiar under our fingers. We won't have any special fitness training, although some amount of recreation can’t hurt. We don't have any altitude training though, as if we were going to the World Championships,” he laughs and promises to bring back some souvenirs from the trip. “Preferably our Souvenir Pop,” he hints at the title of their album, which will be available from the 15th of November.

“We're still going back home to the same people, and I'm sure none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account.”

[thetetra]

So I actually did read it!

You obviously did not.

Lets take a few of your quotes and quotes from the article. "This article is intentionally leaving out information"

such as?

"Neither you or the article explain how this is the fault of pro-life legislation" --Although US abortion bans – which more than a dozen states have enacted in the two years since the supreme court overturned Roe v Wade – technically permit the procedure in medical emergencies, doctors across the country have said that the laws are worded so vaguely that they don’t know when they can legally intervene. Instead, many physicians say they have been forced to wait until a patient is on the brink of death – then attempt to pull them back. So poorly written legislation is delaying needed medical care and making what should be routine procedures more dangerous. and from the next paragraph

--Barnica went to the hospital with cramps when she was just over 17 weeks pregnant on 2 September 2021, the day after the Texas six-week abortion ban took effect, according to ProPublica. --Barnica’s cervix was dilated at nearly 9cm, a condition that left her vulnerable to fast-acting infections, ProPublica reported. Normally, in cases like Barnica’s doctors will offer medication to speed up labor or perform a procedure to empty the uterus. --But Barnica’s fetus still had a heartbeat. And under the Texas ban, doctors could not intervene unless a “medical emergency” – a term that was not defined in the law – developed.

So this VERY clearly is a law, as written, killing this woman. Like the only arguments here are if you dont understand what is going on.

--Within days, she was back at the hospital, where she died of sepsis involving “products of conception”, according to her autopsy report.

Just in case you were wondering that means the baby killed her.

--Multiple experts, including OB-GYNs and maternal fetal medicine specialists, told ProPublica that delaying Barnica’s care ran against the medical standard of care due to the risk of infection.

That bit means that medical experts knew what to do but werent allowed to. So now that we have clearly shown that you projected your own sin of ignorance upon me. Lets see if you had any other points to make.

"There is nothing about pro-life laws that prevented this woman from being treated. Abortion laws in Texas do not prevent miscarriage care." Article covered that... there was a heartbeat so no care could be provided due to the Abortion laws in Texas. "This woman could have been treated and should have been treated and any doctor worth their salt is well aware they could have helped this woman in any way they saw fit." Baby had a heartbeat so their hands were tied. You either didnt read the article, dont understand what you are talking about, or dont care what is written and just pray your audience wont read it. "So this is a case of you not knowing anything about the abortion laws and the media lying and you just believing them for some reason." Wait wait wait... did I not read the article or is the article lying? If these laws aren't preventing this necessary care then there should be a HUGE wave of malpractice lawsuits being taken out against these doctors who " committed malpractice when they saw an opportunity to be activists." So wait... your argument is that Doctors are sacrificing the lives of patients for political gains? That is a HUGE leap and requires more proof than you insinuating that it might be true. I could, with just as much likelihood, insinuate that you are suggesting such a thing in a completely baseless way because you want to hold on to your political views and win an argument despite facts. So please provide some sort of basis that makes your statement that political human sacrifice is happening in OB/GYN offices in (I think) 14 states across the nation.

[loganwritesprobably]

Nerves

From @jintaka-hane: Smoker/F!Reader fic, with marine doctor reader and Smoker being shy around her Tags/Warnings: Smoker/F!Reader, Doctor!Reader, sick!Smoker, vice admiral Smoker, fluff, pre-relationship Word Count: 996

Regardless of what many members of the public, and even members of his own unit believed about him, Smoker was not a man that stopped or lingered to pursue women. It just wasn’t in his nature. He didn’t have the time, nor the emotional bandwidth for it - he had duties to attend to and they mattered far more than whatever woman was throwing herself at him this time. That, and he was harbouring much deeper feelings for someone that he couldn’t bear to look another woman’s way. 

It was utterly humiliating, the way that you made him feel.

Whenever he had to see you, and at this point he only ever visited you when absolutely necessary, he felt like a teenager all over again. You were the primary doctor on his ship when they sailed, and tended to his men on base too, which meant you were always around somewhere even if he wasn’t standing there beside you. He was very aware of that fact, that he could be doing anything and you could just round the corner and then you’d be able to see him. Most viewed him as stoic, serious, a man to not be trifled with - he’d defeated the Warlord Sir Crocodile after all - but he couldn’t be any of those things around you. It all melted away to reveal the little boy beneath that, that wanted to give you flowers and gentle kisses. He didn’t have time for women, but he had all the time in the world for you. 

Recently, he’d been coming down with a little cold. It was truly nothing, just that being stationed on a winter island for several weeks had fucked with his immune system and now he was a little stuffed up. But his stuffed nose became a head cold, became almost flu-like. He didn’t often get sick, and so this was bothering him more than it might bother the average person. The coughing in particular was starting to truly get on his nerves - he couldn’t stop. He’d not done anything concerning like cough up blood, but Tashigi was beyond done with his complaining. “Sir! Go to the doctor if it’s bothering you so much.”

“It’s fine, it’ll clear up.” “Go to the doctor, or I’ll bring her to you.” Tashigi replied with a raised brow. She’d grown a lot in the last few years, but a consequence of that was she was now far more comfortable talking to him, and being disrespectful. She was a good friend. Her bringing you to him was more daunting than someone might expect - you were forgiving and gentle with everyone who came to visit, but if someone avoids seeing you and gets worse? Well, that’s when you became scary.

Before the end of the day, Smoker was shuffling toward your office, preferring to talk to you directly rather than heading to the med bay to see one of the nurses. He knocked softly on the door, listening out for your ‘come in’ before he opened the door. He found you behind your desk, pouring over some paperwork with a pen in hand that you softly tapped against the wood surface while you thought.

“Vice Admiral, how can I help you?” You asked without looking up, which surprised Smoker. You knew who it was even without looking - he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned.

“Doctor. I uhm, I’ve just had a small bout of sickness. Tashigi, she uh, told me to come down and see you. She’s tired of me uh coughing.”

“Tired of you complaining, you mean?” You replied, finally looking up at him with a small smirk and a mischievous glint in your eyes. That didn’t look good.

“I don’t.. I don’t know what you mean.” Smoker felt as heat rose in his face, colouring his cheeks with a soft pink, quickly withering under your intense gaze. There was a long moment between you where neither of you said anything, and then Smoker sat himself on the examination table unprompted, choosing not to fight that battle. 

The examination passed mostly in silence, with you doing all the checks and tests that you needed to do, and asking questions when you needed to, but otherwise he just let you work. Also, Smoker wasn’t sure that it would come out coherent if he did try to speak, considering how close you were to his body. Too close, almost. He could feel the heat coming from your body when you leaned in, checking his temperature and looking in his ears for signs of concerning infection.

“Well, it looks like you’re right, it is just an unfortunately stubborn cold. But, it didn’t hurt to check, that’s what I’m here for.” You told him, pulling off your rubber gloves and tossing them into the bin beside your desk. Smoker nodded and slipped from the examination table, now unsure of what to say next. You really did just take all his coherent thought away.

“Thanks.” He managed eventually, but he didn’t sound so sure about it. 

Another extended, awkward pause followed where you scribbled away in his medical file to make note of the appointment and what you’d found. Smoker stood, staring at you, wanting to talk to you but not knowing how or what to say. If he were a better man he’d ask-

“Do you want to go out with me?” You asked, taking the words right from him as if you could read his mind.

“What?”

“Next time we dock. I’m sure we can find a restaurant to eat at. If you’re interested, that is.” He was utterly dumfounded. First of all, you were interested? Second of all, asking you out was his job!

“Yeah. I.. yeah. Sounds good.” He agreed rather than questioning you or complaining. A date with you sounded more than good really, it sounded perfect. Plus, if he were to be realistic with himself, he never would’ve asked you first, he was far too nervous.

Tag List: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @categoryace @frillsinadress

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[mackmp3]

☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)

[midnightmischief10]

welp. i'm posting this unedited and EXTREMELY self indulgent pedro pascal x reader fic. i have more written, but i will only post the full thing if ppl are also as sick and twisted as me.

hope who ever reads this, feels a little more seen bc i am SICK (well not really HHAHAH) of all the pedro character ddlg fics!! i just wanted to write something more realistic? idk welp, here it is! (not in its entirety:P )

Si no te hubieras ido

pairings: Pedro Pascal x Reader

warnings: age gap, drinking, reader is in their 20s

getting to work on a set like The Mandalorian was a dream if you were being honest. no, you weren't some high end actor, or a famous director, just someone part of the production crew, doing things like planning, writing, hell even editing. you'd do anything to just be a part of a project like this.

interactions with the actors were also common in a job like this, but apart from just guiding them through certain scenes and how they should look, you really didn't cross the boundaries that weren't professional. It was really nice to admire them though. Getting the occasional chat with big shot superstars was so cool and always something to brag about to your family even though they weren't supportive of your career choice. You didn’t end up a doctor or lawyer like they wanted, but hey! You did something you loved.

It was honestly a very normal day in the workplace. You were working in the art department as usual, helping make sure the vision that the director wanted was really coming through. Being behind the scenes for such big projects like these was really something. Your admiration for the process really grew getting to do all the behind the scenes work, it was such a nice feeling seeing the thing you along with many others, worked so hard on being televised was something special.

You weren't the overly ambitious type, but the thought of directing something sounded really cool.

You continued on, designing what the director wanted on a few scenes we’d be working on in the following weeks.

Lost in your work you didn’t expect anyone to come up to you for anything, you weren't the art director so it wasn't usual for people to come to you. Unbeknownst to you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm, not roughly just to get your attention.

you look up and woah…why the hell was Pedro Pascal standing right behind you.

"uhm, I'm sorry to bother you, you seem busy, but I've been meaning to ask, would you like to go out for a drink sometime?" Pedro asked.

huh? what…the…fuck…?

it caught you off guard.

Firstly, why was Pedro Pascal even looking for you? Because I mean you? of all people he could ask something like that, it was you? A man notorious for not having any sort of relationship, at least not public, was standing here with you asking you to go out for a drink.

you didn’t even think about your response before the words fell from your mouth.

"oh..uhm…Is this some kind of prank?"

you dumb BITCH WHY WOULD U SAY THAT???

was what you thought immediately after.

In your defense, you were in disbelief because what the hell was Pedro Pascal, a very prominent and influential actor, asking you out for drinks? I mean the interactions you both have had were merely professional and work related so why?

he looked confused at your answer, maybe even a little insulted, which was not your intention.

"shit I'm sorry I didn't mean to sound rude I'm just in a bit of disbelief" you let out an awkward laugh to soften the previous response and got out of your seat to face him properly. how do you even respond to a question like that, you had no idea that's for certain.

He stared softly at you and started, "no I'm sorry, that was very sudden haha. no need to say yes I just wanted to see if you would." His response was genuine and he wore a soft smile as he did.

God, was he really handsome up close.

To be quite honest, you always found him super attractive. But he was the internet’s daddy so it wasn't just you who felt attraction towards him. And sure, you might've dabbled in the idea of maybe even going out with him, but you were realistic with yourself.

But here you are now. Getting asked out on a date with this hunk of a man.

You were still lost in thought, trying to reflect on what was occurring and what came out of Pedro’s mouth.

He spoke again, "Sorry, just forget it ev-"

"no no, I mean I'd love to, who wouldn't want to go out for drinks with you, I'm just not all that special ya know?" you were being honest. You weren't some super sexy model or a renowned actor, you were just some girl working on the same set as Pedro.

Also, you were much younger than Pedro.

"I'd beg to differ." he said quite frankly. He smiled that sweet and tender smile of his and you couldn't help but think, for an older man he was sure fine.

you were daydreaming again at this point when Pedro spoke again,"so...is that a yes then?" it snapped you back to reality. It was so odd to see him so nervous over something like this, but being in the know of most things Hollywood, everyone who knew Pedro also knew that he had social anxiety so it must've taken a lot out of him to even ask you out

your heart raced, “yea- yes, I'll go for a drink with you.” you smiled, but if you were being honest you were really nervous too. What exactly did he see in you? Sure you were kind and respectful, but that's how you were with everyone. Pedro felt way out of your league to even grasp the idea of flirting with him, I mean come on. Who would even think about flirting with an A-list celebrity, especially someone way way WAY younger than he was and someone who wasn’t on any level to him.

he had a huge smile on his face, he seemed so content. “Great, should I get your number while I’m at it?” He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. You slightly grazed his hand when he did and it caught you by surprise.

His hands were so big, and you didn’t realize till just then how much of a height difference you two had.

You put your name and number, your hands were trembling a bit as you did so.

“here you go. so…when should I expect that drink?” you tried being coy to play off the fact that you were actually freaking out.

he smiled and laughed, “what about tonight then?”

that was quick

“oh. uhm yeah sure, i get off at 5, would like 8 be okay.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up, wear something nice.”

“Do I not look nice now?” you said sarcastically.

“No no, you always look great, I’d just like to see you in a dress.” He looked at you with so much love, his sweet smile still plastered hard on his face.

You couldn’t help but blush hard.

Has he always looked at me?

“I’ll send you my address then, see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” and he stepped out.

what the fuck were you getting into

~~~~~~~

[rosetyler42]

Genetics has quite a bit to do with it. Everything from frame size to how fat is layed to descendants of people with food insecurity or high stress levels can be hard wired to store more fat and/or have high stress levels which make it harder to store fat.

Size matters too. For example, I'm 5' 1" and alot of my family is around 6'. All of them could eat WAY more than me because they were bigger and required more food. Interestingly, I got a large frame size for a short person since I took after my mom that way. My brother is 6' 3" and despite his bottomless pit eating habits is quite thin since he took after dad.

Exercise ALSO does effect things. Not everyone has the ability to go walking, for example, like people in wheelchairs, scooters, those that have crutches, etc. All those could have trouble exercising. Also some people are more active than others due to personality and whatnot.

Also, sometimes our weight can fluctuate over time or even just during the day for various reasons.

I myself had something of an eating disorder where I had an aversion to eating for many reasons as well as digestive issues. My parents tried to stuff as many calories into me as they could to keep me alive. And the way nutrition was taught back in the 2000s did NOT help as it made me even more scared of eating and getting fat. Going through that, I learned what works for others may not work for you, and you should listen to people who know you and your doctor's advice about your weight before anyone else. They may be dealing with shit that you don't know about or even THEY don't really know: For example, I couldn't really tell people why I had trouble eating for YEARS, I just knew I didn't like it. And it wasn't a choice either because people would get mad I took so long and if I could have eaten like a normal person, I WOULD HAVE. I've also recently learned that out of control stress and restrictive diets like trying to minimize sugar, carbs, or fruit can mess your body AND mind up even WORSE than gaining weight.

A core feature of anti-fatness is the "you did this to yourself"-view. People are very invested in the idea that size is within everyone's control. It's soothing to believe that all fat people are a small series of good choices away from becoming thin and staying that way, and that thin people are success stories by virtue of existing.

Any time we speak up about discrimination and fatphobia, someone inevitably plays that card. Trolls will say "eat a salad, pig" and well-meaning health nuts will gently explain what calories are. In either case, we're met with a "you know, you can stop this at any time." Why, if nobody was fat, thin people wouldn't need to examine their biases! It sure would be an easier time for everyone if we weren't so Around and Bulliable!

[mrevankinard]

8x05 Coda

Tommy knew of course the reputation the 118 had with injuries and hospital stays, and he had joked about it quite a few times but getting the phone call that Evan was in the hospital still shook him to the core and had him racing over to the hospital in record time.

His heart was racing as he rushed over to the room where the nurse had pointed him to. Taking a step inside he took in the sight of Evan asleep on the bed and Eddie flipping through a magazine.

"I came as fast as I could, is he okay? What happened?" he asked quietly and stood next to Evan, looking him over more closely.

"Dislocated his shoulder, they just popped it back in. Said he could be back on shift in a few days" Eddie explained and stood up. "Thank god you're here though, it was getting a little weird before he finally dozed off. He was all, Tommy this and Tommy that"

"Mm, wha..?" Buck mumbled, hearing Tommy's name. "Hi baby, I'm here. You okay? I heard you got hurt" he asked concerned and stroked his hand over his messed-up curls.

Buck opened his eyes and looked around before he finally was able to focus his gaze on the man in front of him. "Woah" he whispered and lifted up his good hand to poke Tommy on his cleft. "You're so pretty"

Tommy grinned while Eddie groaned. "Why, thank you, Evan. You're very pretty too" Buck promptly getting teary-eyed, pouting, and pulling away was not the reaction Tommy had expected.

"What's wrong?" Tommy asked, glancing at Eddie who looked just as clueless about the mood shift. "I have a boyfriend so you can't say that. Thank you, goodbye" Buck mumbled and laid back against his pillow.

Tommy had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at his adorable boyfriend. "I'm sorry to hear you have a boyfriend already. That is one lucky guy" he finally managed to say.

"Yeah, he is even more pretty than you. He's got a cleft. And he has a helicopter cause he's a pilot" Buck smiled dreamily and rubbed his eyes. "I wish Tommy was here so I could kiss him, he gives the best kisses. His kisses could heal the dead"

"Well, I see what you meant about earlier. How many people has he been telling this to?" Tommy asked, ignoring how Buck kept waxing on about how great his kisses were.

"Everyone dude. The doctors, the nurses, the porter. Everyone" Eddie replied with a nod. "Let's just say I know too much about your sex life"

"Ooo and the sex, Tommy does the best sex, take care of me so good. Daddy is. hmph" "Okay, how about another nap, Evan?" Tommy chuckled sheepishly as pressed his hand over Buck's mouth.

Eddie grimaced as he picked up his magazine and phone. "Way too much info," he muttered. "I do hope you know I'll never let him live this down," Eddie said as he gave them a grin and headed out of the room. Tommy just sighed as he left, turned back to look at Evan, and moved his hand.

"That was very rude" Evan scowled at Tommy's hand before looking at Tommy's face. "Woah" he whispered. "You look like my boyfriend, he's so pretty" he continued whispering as he touched Tommy's cheek.

Tommy smiled and leaned in closer, preparing himself for what seemed like it could be a long evening ahead.

[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

our first Anzurin chapter :) pls enjoy ! || Chapter Navigation - a post with a link to each posted chapter

3270 words

Chapter 2 - Anzurin

Cautiously, Anzurin pulls back from the fledgling, tensed and ready to grab her again if he needs to. She stares at him with wide eyes, brown tinged red, her auburn hair in a tangled, bloody mess, and pure rage dripping out of every pore. He doesn’t know why exactly she’s so angry, aside from the hunger that’s surely gnawing at her, but he wants to know. What has happened to her? Clearly something. 

She’s wearing a tight, turtle-necked, long sleeved shirt that covers all but her hands, and a loose pair of cargo pants, but on the little patches of skin that are visible, Anzurin makes out many faded scars, some jagged, some clean and uniform, as if done deliberately, but not medically. 

Like someone had sliced into her. 

“Where were you before you showed up at Velur’s coven today?” he asks. If she has indeed been a fledgling for months like he dreadfully suspects, then it’s likely that someone has been holding onto her the entire time. He hasn’t heard anything about any fledglings going wild on the surface in the last few months. A couple rogue vampires that weren’t much to deal with, but nothing about a fledgling like her. 

Magdalena, once released, quickly snatches the bag of blood from him, and immediately squeezes at least half of it into her mouth. “Dunno,” she murmurs around the plastic spout. 

Anzurin takes a single step back, wanting to give her space, but not trusting her with much. Something about the vacant look in her eye urges him to ask, “Don’t know, or don’t remember?” 

She only hums, “Mhm,” as an answer, which doesn’t really answer anything. She’s entirely focused on the blood and not much else. 

“Well, how about this,” he tries. “Do you know how long ago you were changed?” 

Her brow scrunches in the middle as she thinks. “Mm. Three.” She gives a little nod, as if affirming the answer to herself. 

“Three what? Three days? Weeks, months?”

“Mhm.” 

“Which one, Magdalena?” 

She blinks for the first time in a few minutes, pulling off of the spout to look around the room. She looks at the door, then at Brem, and the bag of blood in her hands, and finally, she looks at Anzurin, confusion etched into her gaze. She looks at him as if just realizing he’s there. “What?” 

Anzurin sighs, abandoning his line of questioning. She can’t answer anything. Or she just won’t. He’s not sure which it is, but is leaning towards can’t. There’s definitely something off about the look in her eye, how it bounces between vacant and frantic and angry. Something happened to her, and he’d like to know what. 

“Velur had better return soon with whoever brought you in,” he grumbles angrily, losing patience with the devilspawn already. “In the meantime, I’d like to take you to my doctors for a full examination. Maybe that’ll answer some questions.” 

“Or create more,” Brem laughs nervously, taking a step back. “Do I have to … tag along?” 

Anzurin studies the fledgling. Magdalena Pierce, supposedly. The only thing she seems to know. She’s calmed down considerably, but he’s sure that any little thing could set her off again, and he has no idea what might cause her to lash out. An easier question might be: what doesn’t. 

“Well, I suppose you can,” he answers Brem. “Or, if you’d rather, you can go figure out absolutely everything you can about her life before.” 

“I’ll do that.” Brem hurries out of Anzurin’s office, leaving him alone with a rabid fledgling. 

Surprising him, she lets out a small sigh once the door closes behind Brem, and then she closes her eyes as she empties the blood bag. Anzurin quickly pulls the next out of his pocket and opens it, holding it out to her by the time she realizes that she’s finished the one she has. 

She snatches it away from him and drinks it just as desperately as she drank the last one. Giving her a little faith, Anzurin takes multiple steps away from her, letting her have the space she most likely wants, but he does tell her again, “I’d like to take you to be checked out by the doctor, Magdalena. Can we do that? I’ll keep feeding you as long as you need.” 

To prove it, he walks over to his minifridge and takes out two more bags to put in his jacket pockets, hoping that they’ll warm up before she’s ready to drink them; cold blood can’t taste great. Her thirst is unlike anything Anzurin has ever seen, except for a couple of very rare cases. She has the hunger of a vampire that hasn’t fed in weeks or even months, and he knows first hand what that looks like. 

Magdalena nods, wide eyes pinned on his every move. 

“We’ve got to set some rules before we leave this office. You can’t be attacking us. I get that you’re hungry, and we’re going to do what we can to make sure you’re sufficiently fed, but there is an order to this coven that we have to keep. You disrupt that order, and you will be dealt with appropriately.”

She drags her thumb across her neck. 

“If we have to,” Anzurin answers, “though, I’d personally prefer not to. Believe it or not, I don’t find any joy in having to kill a vampire, and I’ll explore every other option before we get to that point, but if you keep trying to kill everyone, you’ll force my hand.”

She opens her mouth to poke at her blood-coated fangs. “Wanna bite.” She gnashes her teeth together and her gaze drops down to Anzurin’s still bleeding arm. 

He’d nearly forgotten. Anzurin brings the wound to his mouth and licks it, the devilspawn magic in his saliva healing the entire mangled mess in less than two seconds. As for his neck, he grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket, spitting on it before pressing to his neck until he only feels unblemished skin under his fingers. 

“I’ll let you feed from me again later,” he tells her, not sure if he really means it. “Right now, you’ve already taken a lot of blood from me. Any more, and it may be the end of me; we can’t have that.” Slowly so that he doesn’t frighten her, Anzurin steps closer to Magdalena, coming to stand directly in front of her. 

He doesn’t really like using his abilities on others, but he rations that it might be necessary this time, so he drops his head to look her in the eyes, stretching his power out towards her. It dips into her mind, tentatively testing the edges before it assaults her thoughts. The feeling of touching someone else’s mind always makes Anzurin’s skin crawl and his bones itch, but he pushes on. This needs to be done if he wants to keep everyone alive. 

He ventures into her mind, finding the intrusion to be easier than expected. Most people have a wall around their mind, much like a mental skull, making Anzurin put in an effort to venture into their heads, but Magdalena’s is defenseless, and he sinks into it too easily. 

Her mind is not much different than what she presents on the outside, a muddled mess that either focuses on nothing, or jumps from thought to thought before one can even fully form. It runs without form, like a river released from its channel and pouring over the land. It begs for some type of order, for direction. 

Magdalena stares up at him with wide eyes, likely unaware of his exploration of her mind, sucking down blood like it’s the only thing she cares about. Maybe it is. 

“You’re going to behave,” Anzurin tells her, the command winding its way through the folds of her brain and embedding itself. 

She nods, accepting the guidance easily. Fledglings need someone to follow, they need direction, or they’d run wild and kill everything in their path. It’s written into their very beings, so it’s no surprise that Magdalena seems to listen to him so easily. Albeit, a little too easily, but she listens nonetheless, and Anzurin counts that as a win. 

Pushing further into her mind, he tells her, “We are going to go see the doctors. They are going to examine you without issue. You will not attack them when they try to look at you. Yes?” 

“Yes,” she echoes, her voice muffled around the blood. 

“If you feel like you have to bite someone, you bite me. You –” 

Anzurin cuts off as he finally hits a wall in her mind, not where it should be. He thought that it was a bit too easy to tunnel through the empty channels of her mind, and now it makes sense why. It’s already been burrowed into. He can’t be sure how long ago she was manipulated, or who did it to her, but her mind has most definitely been poked and prodded by a devilspawn other than himself. And whoever did this to her constructed a new wall within her mind, one that she can’t even seem to penetrate. Anzurin tries to get a look behind the wall, but he can’t sense anything on the other side of it. 

He pokes at the misplaced wall until Magdalena begins to show discomfort. She scrunches her nose and looks away from him, down to the blood filled pouch in her hands. 

Unsure what to do with her mangled mind, Anzurin eases out of it and takes a step back, blinking. “Just behave, please. Alright. Let’s go. Walk next to me.” 

Hoping she listens, he turns for the door and leaves his office. Thankfully, she does, traipsing along at his side down the hallway, slurping happily on the blood as her eyes dart around, looking at anything and everything.

There isn’t much for her to look at in the hallway that leads to Anzurin’s office, a few portraits of him and the other coven leaders lining the dimly lit, sage green walls, but nothing else. She glances at each painting, grumbling at them except when she reaches Velur’s. She stops in her tracks in front of his portrait, teeth bared at it as if he were really standing right in front of her. 

Anzurin steps up behind her, also staring at Velur’s portrait, but he’s wondering what it is about him that she hates so much. What has he done to her? Is he that one that’s muddied her mind? Is he the reason she’s so broken and confused and angry? 

He’ll have to talk to the spawn later. 

“Come on, Magdalena,” he urges, a hand on her arm to lead her away from Velur’s portrait. She looks down at his hand and snarls at it until he removes it, but does in fact turn and follow him. 

Her steps scuff softly across the floor, walking with near silence, while each of Anzurin’s heavy steps echo around them. Apart from their footsteps, the only other sound is her slurping, once again reaching the end of a blood bag at an alarming pace. 

“Another?”

Maggie nods, looking up at him with large eyes, cheeks hollowing as she sucks out every last drop of blood. Anzurin pulls the next bag out of his pocket and takes the cap off of the spout. It’s bordering on worrisome, how much she’s drinking. Any fledgling, even a newly turned one that hadn’t yet fed, wouldn’t drink this much. The last time he saw anything this bad, it was a fledgling that had been turned but then buried in a coffin before they woke. The poor guy had been stuck there for three weeks before his creator finally stopped seeing humor in the situation and let him out. 

That was only three weeks of starvation, and Magdalena has already drank more than he did on his first day of freedom. Reasonably, she should have been satiated after draining Herra, and especially after drinking from Anzurin, but she’s still going. Still starving. 

Anzurin glances at his wrist, fine now, but where she’d shredded his skin with her teeth before. While he’s not as educated on the fledgling stages as his team of doctors are, he at least knows the basics, and judging by the size and sharpness of her fangs, he’d estimate that she’s a couple months old. 

But he doesn’t want to believe that that’s right. It can’t be. He hates to think that she has, in fact, been kept somewhere and starved for months at a time. He hates to think that she lost a large portion of her time as a fledgling to … to … to wherever she was, whatever happened to her. 

She growls and snarls at the few devilspawn that pass them on the short trek through the manor but doesn’t try to attack them, much to Anzurin’s relief. What is it about Anzurin’s fellow devilspawn that she hates so much that just the sight of them sets her off? Most, if not all, of the fledglings in the coven are asleep, as Magdalena should be, as Anzurin wishes he was. 

By the time they reach the medical wing of Anzurin’s coven, it seems like Magdalena might actually be calming down. She’s sipping a bit slower on her pre-packaged blood and that starving edge in her eyes is beginning to soften, being replaced by a cautious curiosity as she takes in everything around her. 

Anzurin stops in front of a heavy wooden door and knocks, a wary glance at Magdalena as they wait. 

After only a few seconds, Inessa Lucra, a vampire and Anzrun’s lead doctor, swings open the door, rubbing her eyes as if she’d just awoken. The pajamas she’s still wearing tell the same story. She glances between Anzurin and Magdalena, who doesn’t make a single noise, not so much as a grumble. 

Inessa’s red eyes widen at the sight of Magdalena covered in blood, gasping, “Oh, dear! What happened?” She grabs a jacket from the hook right next to her, slipping it on over her camisole as she steps out into the hallway with them. 

“New fledgling. Special circumstances. I’d like to put her through a full examination.” 

Every new fledgling does get a complete examination upon intake, so it’s not an odd request, but it’s rare that any come in covered in blood, and it’s even rarer than Anzurin himself comes to ask for one at this time. 

Inessa leads them back the way they just came, towards her offices. “So, what’s the deal?” she asks over her shoulder. 

“Not entirely certain.” He looks at Magdalena, who is looking at the bag of blood rather than drinking from it, tilting it back and forth. “Velur brought her in just a little bit ago. She was at his coven and killed a devilspawn, apparently. I’m not sure how old she is, but I’m estimating a few months. Velur should be bringing whoever is in charge of intake, so maybe they can tell us how long ago she was brought in.” 

Jamming a key into the door handle, Inessa uses her hip to bump it open when it gets stuck on the doorframe. “We’ll take a look at her. See what we’re dealing with.” 

“I compelled her to behave while you look at her, but … well, she likes to bite, Ness. She may still try to attack.” 

“Seems alright to me,” she says, glancing at where Magdalena stands motionless, eyes wide, and the pouch between her lips. Inessa ushers them through the waiting area and into an examination room. “Alright, let’s get you up on the bed and we’ll take a look at you.” Inessa points towards the plastic covered contraption that can hardly be defined as a bed. 

She doesn’t move, or even show that she heard Inessa at all, really. 

Anzurin says her name to get her attention, and she slowly blinks at him, that look in her eye once again as if she’s just realizing where she is. “This is Inessa,” he tells her cautiously. “She’s a doctor. She’s going to examine you, which means she’s going to have to touch you. Okay?” 

She nods jerkily and Anzurin allows himself to feel a fraction of relief at her cooperation. Only a little. 

He pats the plastic cot and nudges the step stool with his foot. “Sit up here, please.” 

Magdalena nods and does as he requests, and Anzurin finds it a bit endearing when she starts to swing her feet. What a gentle and joyful movement for a creature as bloodthirsty and vicious as her. 

Inessa steps forward, first walking a circle around the cot as she looks at Magdalena from all angles. She stops when she’s back in front of Magdalena and smiles warmly at her. “You like biting, right? Show me your teeth.” 

Magdalena bares her teeth as asked, tongue pushing against the back of them. They’re still coated in a thin layer of blood with red flesh stuck between some of them. 

Inessa pulls on a pair of blue gloves while she visually inspects Magdalena’s teeth, and asks, “May I?” before reaching towards her face. 

Magdalena freezes for a moment, then looks towards Anzurin, who gives her a small nod. Hesitant, she pulls her lips back even further and leans in towards Inessa, and – surprising Anzurin – she squeezes her eyes shut. She hardly even blinks, and the only time he’s seen her close her eyes was when she was so completely engrossed in feeding, but now, the way she squeezes them closed… well, it reminds Anzurin more of a grimace. Or a flinch. 

Inessa pinches Magdalena’s upper lip gently and pulls it up to inspect her gums, poking just above her fangs, then does the same to her bottom lip. Moving on, she presses her fingers just under Magdalena’s jawline, prodding. 

Finally, she pulls away, and Magdalena’s shoulders slump as she releases a breath and opens her eyes. 

“At least three months, maybe even four,” Inessa says, confirming Anzurin’s worries. “Her fangs are almost fully down already, and it feels like her venom glands are just starting to form.” She retrieves an instrument from the cabinets against the wall which she uses to look in Magdalena’s ears, noting, “Slight damage to the left side. Right looks fine.” 

Anzurin’s curiosity climbs. “Before or after being made?” 

“Before, I think. Hard to say for certain. You want the entire package, right? Labs, x-rays, all that?” 

Nodding, he says, “Better safe than sorry. We don’t know anything about her right now, and there’s clearly something to be known.” He checks the clock ticking away on the wall. Velur better return soon, and he better have some answers. 

Inessa performs a few more minor tests on Magdalena before she has her stand up for even more poking and prodding. Just when she’s beginning to look uncomfortable and like she might be feeling the urge to bite again, Inessa steps away. 

“Alright,” she sighs, clapping her hands. “Let’s go make sure everything’s alright on the inside. I’ll go get everything set up if you two want to give me a few minutes.”

“No rush. A break is probably a good idea.” 

As Magdalena’s gaze shifts to his neck, he pulls the last pouch out of his pocket, and her eyes light up, her hand shooting out to grab for it. She doesn’t even bother taking the cap off properly, biting it off instead, and as she squeezes the blood into her mouth, she keeps her unblinking stare pinned on his throat. 

---

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[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

[catemangelsdorf]

Our key players:

Phillipa Soo, of Hamilton fame, who plays a wry, competent nurse. She's practical, ambitious, and done with the boys shit. Which doesn't mean she won't instigate a threesome if the boys are slacking.

Joshua Jackson, aka Fringe for the geeks and Dawson's Creek for the normal people. He has aged like fine wine. His character is an overqualified doctor who had a near death experience and has decided to deal with that by becoming the doctor on a cruise ship.

Rounding out our trio is the gorgeous, funny, wildly entertaining to watch Sean Teal, aka the hot guy from that Shakespeare movie Rosaline that came out a few years ago. He plays nurse #2, and basically does whatever the plot demands of him. Which means sometimes he's a hero who saves the day, sometimes he's a wounded guy with a rough childhood, and sometimes he's a total idiot who is overly obsessed with winning a costume competition. He plays every version of his character with total commitment.

Now this is a medical drama, so naturally it asks the important questions like:

how soon is too soon to sleep with your boss?

what obscure disease can cruise ship passengers get from eating too much shrimp, lying out in the sun too long, and fucking too much?

how many times can people go overboard in six episodes?

what is the most ridiculous outfit a rich person can wear on a cruise?

For all of it's silliness, it's also a weirdly compassionate show? This show loves the tacky older couple with the thick southern accents who eat too much shrimp. It wants you to respect the reality star who gets way too much plastic surgery, or the rich blonde bridezilla desperately trying to ignore everything that is tragic about her life.

The only true villain so far has been a wellness influencer who puts other people at risk by ignoring medical professionals and a plastic surgery clinic owner who pressures people into plastic surgery.

Also, it's just GORGEOUS. Do I want to go on a cruise? No. Do I want to go on this fictional cruise? HELL YES. It's just beautiful pools, and beautiful golden rooms, and beautiful beaches, and beautiful ocean, and a pristine, futuristic medical bay worthy of star trek.

It's like if the head writer said "What should the show be about?" and then all the other writers just kept saying "Yes, and also what about..." until you have a show that is tonally all over the place, but also looks like a Vogue magazine spread.

Everyone is beautiful, everyone is horny, and everyone has an unusual medical disease that can be cured in the next 40 minutes.

10/10, highly recommend.

Doctor Odyssey is a show where everyone is beautiful and everyone is horny but NO ONE is fucking because it's a weeknight abc show

[lets-play-our-game]

Old Spidey, New City

I just came to my senses

Peter looked around groggily, taking in his surroundings. He was laying supine on a flat rooftop, several other building towering over him, the sight of huge digital billboards flashing brightly, incomprehensively, around him..

He had hit the ground, - Roof? - hard, and while the city around him was blindingly bright, he was sure it had been daylight he had seen before passing out. Either way, it was a dark sky that shone above him now, with just as many stars as he was use to (which was close to none on a good night)

In fact, he wasn’t even sure the spell had worked, it still looked like his city, but Strange wouldn’t have left him unconscious on a rooftop. They were both assholes, but not that kind. Not “cast a spell but fuck off before the other person realised it didn’t work” kind of asshole. Peter certainly wouldn’t have hurt him if it hadn’t, Strange had been upfront about the chances.

Must have worked then.

I live in another dimension

Fuck! It worked.

At least, the jump did. Time and research would show if this was the right universe. Had to make sure there wasn’t already a Peter Parker in this one, that mutants existed and he wouldn’t be dissected the first chance the government got, that superhero was still a job he could avoid signing up for..

Regardless, he was out of the old one, and his family would be safe.

Just, without him.

Peter stood and released a deep breath.

Fear is nonexistent

There was nothing he could do now, just hope the doctor could carry out the rest of the plan. He’d done his part.

Peter pulled his mask down over his face, whatever emotions he was showing gone from view, grabbed his small pack from where it had landed, and stepped to the edge of the roof.

*thwip*

Suit up and swing through the city

He swung high, avoiding lit windows and people out of their balconies. He was tired. So, bone dead tired and a fight was the last thing he was itching for. He knew a few good spots to crash in his old city, but who knew if they existed here.

As spiderman swung, he slowly became aware of the differences between the two cities. The ads were different for one, and what few brands recognised seemed to have picked different colours. Coke-a-cola had radioactive-orange packaging. He was not looking forward to a neon christmas, if that was a thing here.

Police lights were still red and blue, but the siren was different. That was hardly a surprise.

The biggest difference, and he almost fell out of the sky when he finally noticed it, was all the cars drove on the wrong side of the road.

“What the fuck..” He perched on the side of a building and watched the traffic, letting his camo take hold and blending in with the concrete he gripped to.

He shook himself free after a few minutes and swung on.

He was so fucking tired.

Annihilate, I’m wide awake Be very afraid

He found a rooftop that even in this universe didn’t have stairwell access, internal or external, which was perfect. He threw down his small bag, which contained little more than a change of civilian clothes, a few snack bars and a one or two mementos, onto the dirty concrete.

I’m in my own world give me space

Exhausted, he lay down, the bag as a make-shift pillow, and stared up at the sky, letting the noises of his new city, his new life, surround him.

Tomorrow, he might go looking for a better bed, food, a job maybe, hopefully a shower

Tonight - he just needed to get some fucking sleep.

I’m in my own universe give me space..