#I've written nothing but medical reports...

[captainsophiestark]

Dogfight Football

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

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Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Top Gun

Day 3 Prompt: "Okay, show me."

Summary: Hangman gets hurt during Dogfight Football. Lucky for him, he's dating a navy doctor.

Word Count: 1,715

Category: Fluff, humor, little bit of angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I scowled as I scribbled in my notebook, trying to prepare for an upcoming test by making flash cards. All my friends and my boyfriend were outside on the beach playing something called 'Dogfight Football', but I was holed up here, at a table in the back of the Hard Deck, trying to memorize medical terms and procedures.

Stupid fighter pilots.

Being on temporary assignment at Top Gun at the same time as my boyfriend, Jake Seresin, was supposed to mean we got to spend more time together. And I guess we'd gotten to spend a little more time together, but I'd built it up in my mind as something much more romantic and exciting than navy training. I really should've known better, but I'd been on a ship in the middle of the ocean treating various illnesses for everyone on board for months. The romantic fantasy had been one of the only things getting me through.

At least I had tonight to look forward to. Jake and I were going to a fancy restaurant off base for dinner, then out somewhere to dance the night away. Neither of us had to report for duty until the afternoon tomorrow, so we could ditch some of our usual healthy habits.

I'd finally managed to finish my flash cards and block out most of the noise from outside when someone came bursting through the back door of the Hard Deck. I looked up to find the cause of the disturbance and found Coyote, one of Jake's best friends, staring at me.

"What happened?" I asked, shooting out of my seat immediately. Coyote looked stressed, which never happened unless something was actually wrong.

"Hangman got hurt," he said. I rushed to the bar and grabbed my med kit without hesitating, even as Coyote continued. "He was trying to pull a stunt on a touchdown in the game, and there was some pit or something hidden by the sand. I'm not totally sure what happened, but he went down hard. I think it's something with his leg."

I shook my head, cursing every last reckless aviator on that beach as I followed Coyote out the door.

"He wouldn't be the first one to fall into a literal sand trap and hurt himself. Let's just be glad he didn't break his neck showing off."

Once we got outside, I could see Jake clearly, laying in the sand not too far from the surf. The rest of the Top Gun fliers were gathered around him, and the fact that he hadn't forced himself to his feet to play it cool around them told me he was really, really hurt.

I started running as soon as Jake was in sight, cutting through the aviators and dropping to my knees as soon as I was in range of Jake. He looked up when he saw me and tried to smile, but it ended up being more of a grimace than anything else.

"Hey, Baywatch. Come to check on me?"

I snorted. "What did you do?"

"I was trying to do a flip."

"Oh my God."

"I've done one before! But when I landed, the sand just gave way, and my leg..."

He trailed off, wincing, one hand holding his leg and the other clenched in a tight fist in the sand. Nothing looked broken from here, but with his hand in the way, I couldn't be sure.

"It hurts," he said, voice a strangled whisper so that only I could hear. Jake looked at me, face tight with pain, and my heart squeezed seeing him like that. "It hurts a lot."

"Okay, show me," I said, falling into the cool calm that overtook me in emergency situations. "I need you to move your hand and show me where it hurts, alright?"

Jake nodded, then gingerly removed his hand to rest it with the other one in the sand. Coyote and Maverick had moved the others a little further away after I'd arrived, so we had some privacy. Jake groaned and barely stifled a scream as I reached out to gently touch his ankle, shin, and knee to asses. To his credit, his leg didn't move an inch.

After a few more painful minutes of assessment, I sat back on my heels and looked at my boyfriend. He looked back, body slightly less tensed but his teeth still clenched.

"So? What's the verdict, doc?"

"The verdict is you're insanely lucky," I said, turning to dig in my medical bag. I pulled out what I'd need to splint Jake's ankle, then got to work as I continued. "It's not uncommon for people to break their legs, bad, from falling into pits hidden by the sand. You, fortunately, didn't fall hard enough or twist enough or find a deep enough pit to quite break your leg. Instead, you've got a bad sprain. It's definitely not good, but based on what I'm seeing now, I think you'll have an easier time with this level of sprain than if you'd broken something."

Jake nodded, then winced again as I tightened the brace on his ankle. It wasn't good enough to last for long, but it would keep his ankle immobilized while I found a way to get him to my office where I had supplies to actually treat him more long-term.

"You're gonna be okay," I said, leaning over once I'd finished working and kissing Jake on the forehead. "I'm sorry you got hurt. Stop doing dangerous things to showboat with your friends."

Jake huffed a laugh and gave me the same overconfident, cocky smile that I'd seen a thousand times and slowly fallen in love with, albeit slightly more strained than normal.

"I can't make any promises about the last one. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always. And you're going to hate what comes next, so... I guess just remember that it's part of what happens when you insist on doing beach-flips in a game."

"What do you-"

"Rooster!" I turned to call to the tall aviator, who'd wandered a little ways away with everyone else. He turned and started walking back as soon as he heard me.

"What's up?"

"I need your help getting Jake to my truck," I replied. Rooster grinned, and I heard Jake groan from behind me. This time, I didn't think it was from the pain.

"Sure thing. Happy to help."

"Can't you get anyone else," whined Jake as Rooster made it to us. I put my hands on my hips and stared him down.

"Rooster's the person on this beach who'll have the easiest time lifting you and carrying you out to the car. I love Coyote and everyone else, and I'm sure they'd figure it out if they needed to, but Roos is gonna be able to just do it."

Jake grumbled, and I caught Rooster with a shit-eating grin as he leaned down and picked Jake up. I just sighed and shook my head at both of them as we headed back up the beach.

"This is ridiculous," said Jake, renewing his protest as we neared the rest of the Top Gun class. "Just put an arm around me and help me up, I don't need to be carried-"

I whirled around, hands on my hips and a scowl on my face. I'd heard Jake twisting around like he was trying to get Rooster to put him down, and if he wasn't careful, he'd get dropped and hurt even worse than before. Both men froze on the spot as soon as I glared at them.

"Jake, grow up," I said, no more room for argument in my voice. "You can't walk. If you move your ankle around or put too much weight on it, you could make it much, much worse. Which is obviously bad for a lot of reasons, but would ground you from flying for who knows how long."

Jake huffed and crossed his arms, but he didn't have any comeback to that. I stared him down for another few moments, until Rooster shifted and cleared his throat.

"Hey, he's not as light as he looks, so-"

"Shut up, Chicken."

I just sighed and continued leading the both of them up the beach. I shot a few glares at Jake's peers as we went, reminding them with just a look that if they started messing with Jake, I had more than enough dirt on all of them to bury them in return. Phoenix was the only one to smile back at me in response.

By some miracle, we made it up the beach and through the Hard Deck without Rooster dropping Jake or Jake punching Rooster. Roos helped me get Jake into the passenger seat of my car, then I chased him off with a quick 'thank you' before he could give Jake any more shit. Once he was gone, I paused a second to sigh and catch my breath, then climbed into the driver's seat.

"So... what now?" asked Jake.

"Now, we go back to base so I can treat you properly and get you a real ankle brace. Maybe some X-Rays, we'll have to see. Painkillers, though, for sure."

Jake nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Then, after a second, he spoke, more quiet and serious than usual.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me. Seriously. And I'm sorry I messed up our date night, after we'd both been waiting for it for so long."

I sighed, then turned to Jake with a lopsided smile.

"I've always got your back, Jake. I'm your wingman in life, remember? And don't worry about date night. If you're feeling up to it, we can still go to dinner. If you're not, we've still got the evening to ourselves. I'm sure we can find something fun to do, just the two of us."

Jake chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

"Hm. Just hang in there, flyboy. We're almost back to base, and then we can get you feeling better."

"I almost hate to ask, but... what's your plan for getting me out of the car and into the doctor's office?"

I hesitated, chewing my lip before turning to Jake. He winced at just the expression on my face, because he knew me well enough to know he would need to.

"...How would you feel if I recruited a certain Vice Admiral to carry you?"

"Fuck."

****************

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 6

Title:

Prompt: Written for anon "Eddie x reader. Reader is also with the 118. Eddie is training her on something so they trade places and then she gets injured, maybe hit by falling debris or something. And then while they’re at the hospital waiting to hear how she is he feels guilty because she was standing where he should have been."

Word Count: 1,489

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson and Chimney Han

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of injury (minor)

Summary: You and the team are called to an accident at a construction site when disaster strikes. Written for day six of @whumptober for the prompt "it should have been me."

Tags: @firemedicdiaz @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @alexxavicry @cm1031sr​ 

Authors notes: unbeta'd but I've got a migraine and wanted to post it before midnight. All mistakes are my own - hoping to reupload a polished version soon.

You were sitting with Eddie and buck, chatting over your coffee when the call bell sounded, altering you to another rescue. You followed quickly behind your team as you grabbed your turnouts and piled onto the fire engine. The sirens blared as you raced down the streets of LA and Bobby relayed the information he was receiving from dispatch. There were reports of a disaster at a construction site with multiple victims involved. You looked out the window as you mentally prepared yourself for what you were about to encounter when you arrived on scene. 

When you finally arrived, chaos greeted you as you took in the full extent of the accident. There was debris scattered everywhere as well as workers with various injuries, some were walking wounded and others were on the floor, surrounded by their colleagues who were attempting to help them. 

Bobby gave you your assignments, putting you and Eddie on medical with Hen and Chim due to the amount of casualties involved. You and Eddie partnered up together and grabbed your equipment before assessing the scene to identify who needed your help most. 

Amidst the chaos, your eyes landed on a man with a severe leg injury, his colleagues were frantically attempting to stem the bleeding as he deteriorated. 

You took over from one of the men, holding pressure on the wound as Eddie began his assessment and secured the man’s c-spine. Eddie could see the extent of the injury and turned to you, his voice filled with urgency, “swap with me. I’ll take over.” 

Nodding, you easily swapped positions and took over the patient's airway while Eddie took charge of managing the patient’s leg wound, knowing he had more experience with these sorts of injuries. 

As you began to work, a loud crash echoed from above as a piece of debris fell from a higher level right where Eddie had been moments before. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Eddie could do nothing but watch in horror, his heart in his throat as the ceiling fell around you. The last thing you remember before your world faded to black was a large piece of debris coming down on top of you and knocking you unconscious. 

Eddie felt as if his heart had stopped as he watched your body slump to the ground motionless. Panic surged through Eddie as he helplessly watched from his position and desperately screamed for back up. He was surrounded by extra hands moments later, including those of his team. Hen and Chimney rushed to your side, Buck and Bobby joining only moments later. Medics took over looking after the patients allowing him to rush forward to your side. He frantically pressed his fingers into your neck and let out a choked sob as he felt the weak pulse beneath his touch. It was a tense and agonizing few minutes but eventually they were able to pull you free. 

Eddie climbed in the ambulance behind you, his face etched with worry for you and the guilt he couldn’t help feeling that it should have been him on that stretcher. The team loaded you onto the waiting ambulance and rushed towards the hospital. 

As the ambulance arrived at the hospital, the doctors and nurses practically tore the gurney away from your teammates, promising that they would do their best for you. Eddie just hoped their best would be enough. 

Chim stepped behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “y/n’s strong. We got them here in time. They’re going to pull through.” 

Eddie nodded, still not quite believing his friend as he sat in the uncomfortable and all too familiar chairs of the hospital waiting room and waited for news of your condition. 

A few hours later, with no updates on your condition, Eddie’s worry began to grow. Before he could think on it any longer, the surgeon who’d been working on you appeared followed by a nurse. He looked exhausted, but wore a hopeful expression as he approached the group. “Y/N’s made it through surgery. They’re in critical condition, but stable. The next few hours and days are critical but we’re hopeful.” 

“Once they’re out of recovery you can visit,” the nurse added. 

Eddie couldn’t help the overwhelming flood of relief that washed over him at the news. 

When the nurse came by again with another update and that you’d been moved out of recovery and into the ICU, Eddie was the first to rise. He promised himself that he’d watch out for you and be by your side until you woke up. 

Two days later, you still remained unconscious in the ICU while your body healed from the accident. The 118 had taken turns paying you visits, coming and going, but one person had remained by your side the entire time. Buck entered the room, coffee cup in hand, not expecting to see Eddie still there. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, the dark circles under his eyes showing he hadn’t gotten much rest. The room was eerily silent, the only sound the beeping of the heart monitor and soft buzz of medical equipment as he took the empty seat next to Eddie. Buck studied Eddie’s face and how his eyes never left you. 

“It should have been me,” Eddie muttered, so quietly Buck would have missed it if he weren’t sitting next to him. 

Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Eddie, what?” 

“It should have been me who got hurt, not y/n. It should be me in that hospital bed.” He looked at Buck who was still just as confused. 

“Eddie, you know this isn’t your fault, right? Accidents happen and you couldn’t have stopped it.” 

“I put them here,” he choked out with tears in his eyes before continuing, “I asked them to swap places with me. If we hadn’t switched, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

Buck’s expression softened, “Eds, we’d still be in this situation if you hadn’t switched, only it would be you in that bed. You made a split second decision based on skill and what you thought was best for the patient. Accidents happen all the time in our line of work. This isn’t your fault and Y/N is strong, they pulled through surgery and they’re going to be okay, alright?” 

“I would have preferred it had been me.”

Buck sighed, he knew Eddie was tired and it wasn’t helping the situation. “We can’t change what happened, but what we can do is be here for y/n. They love you and they wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. When was the last time you got some rest or ate or drank anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Eds, you need rest or you will end up in the hospital bed next to them. Come on, I’ll call Bobby and he can sit with them. You’re going to go home and I’m going to get you some food, water and you’re going to rest.”

“But…” he tried but Buck was having none of it. 

“I’m not arguing Eds.”

Eddie’s gaze returned to you, his eyes still filled with guilt and regret. “I just want y/n to wake up.”

“They will, but we can’t do anything but wait right now and I know they’d want you to be looking after yourself too.” 

Reluctantly Eddie got up from his seat and gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he followed Buck out of the room. They passed Bobby in the hallway who’d come at Buck’s request so you wouldn’t be left alone and headed back to Eddie’s to get him a shower, food and some rest. 

A few hours later Buck got a call from the hospital. He sat down on the table and gave Eddie a gentle shake to wake him, his phone still clutched in his hand. Eddie’s heart was in his throat as he thought the worst before Buck told him the words he’d been hoping to hear since the accident. You were awake. 

The pair rushed into your room, seeing you awake and talking to Bobby. A small smile crossed your lips as you saw Eddie waiting at the door. Buck and Bobby exchanged a knowing glance as they quietly left the room to give the two of you some privacy. 

You held out your hand for him as he walked into the room and he took the seat by your side. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his eyes filling with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. 

“Eddie,” you interrupted, “I don’t blame you. You didn’t do anything wrong, accidents happen and I’m glad it wasn’t you.” 

“You heard?” 

“I know you blame yourself and think it should have been you, but I’m glad it wasn’t.” 

A tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, relieved to finally know that you were going to be okay. 

[myfandomrealitea]

I always want to wholeheartedly agree with the "create what you want, just label it" argument. I really want to. Right up until people defend unexamined bigotry. For example, I once ran into a story where Martha Jones was actually about to fail out of medical school when she met The Doctor, because she was "incapable" of learning human anatomy and medicine, and despite "bribing her teachers". I wrote in my journal that I thought the story was racist, in a public post, and people scolded me for being censorious and not letting people "have fun". (This was back when LJ was viable.) I have a pile of other experiences like that. I would never agree with the antis that Someone (aka them) should prevent people from writing whatever, but I feel like to completely agree with "create what you want, no limits, nothing matters but creating," I have to agree that a fan of color has no right to be hurt by a story that turns an intelligent Black woman into a cheat and an idiot, even in that fan's own space. What do you think?

You have every right to feel offended or hurt by a story. But your hurt and offense does not negate someone else's ability to create. Nor does it dictate that you can tell them what they can and cannot create.

How do you know the author wasn't a person of color themselves? How do you know they weren't writing the story based on their own emotions, difficulties or experiences? Is painting a person of color as 'unintelligent' a common theme in their works or was it just the plot device of this specific story? If Martha Jones was Asian or Indian or Caucasian, would you have still been offended on her behalf that an intelligent woman/intelligent woman of color was being turned into 'an idiot'?

These are questions we have to ask ourselves when trying to determine if a work was genuinely created with the intent of being harmful. Because individually not liking or being hurt by the content's of a story is not a good enough reason to advocate against it.

The 911 fandom, for example, saw a lot of it with Eddie Diaz. People were so entrenched in fandom virtue signalling that pretty much any depiction of Eddie Diaz in fanfiction was getting bitched about as 'out of character' or 'racist' including works written by actual people of color. It got to the point where for quite a while fanfiction production within the 911 fandom dropped way down because people were too annoyed with or upset by the constant accusations no matter what was being written.

And I know it probably sounds like I'm just smokescreening for racism or excusing it. but I can promise you, I've blocked and reported authors and fandom creators before for being blatantly racist in their content. But fanfiction and literature become trickier because the purpose of stories is not to be palatable or feel-good. Stories do not have to be pleasant. Fanfiction does not have to conform to the source material.

Describing someone as "incapable" is typically a turn of phrase and has nothing to do with trying to allocate unintelligence to a specific type of person. Plenty of people would be classed as "incapable" of learning medicine because its a hard fucking thing to learn. You need to dedicate more or less five-ten years of your life to studying it before you even really get anywhere with actually practising it.

If you're someone who's easily distracted or has trouble remembering things and vice versa, you're unlikely to go into a career field that especially demands these things of you.

I imagine in any case her failing out of medical school was likely the plot point that leads her to going off with The Doctor. Which is a simple narrative and not a case of "unexamined bigotry." Its just as likely that if the author had had Martha Jones simply give up her aspirations and career to follow The Doctor, someone else would've been offended by the trope of a (black) woman giving up everything for a (white) man and deemed the story sexist or racist. Possibly both.

When analysing literature you have to be critical of if something is offending you personally or if it was intended to offend people of color as a whole. If the answer is only the former, then its a situation where you just have to recognise the work is not for you and move along.

[vtforpedro]

life update - long

It took me a hot minute to find the last update. December, I guess? I'm so tired I never stop being tired and time is not real anymore. Anyway. Disability Stuff: I won my case in federal court in February. They said it'd take a year so I was a little hm. Found out the SSA voluntarily asked the judge for the remand because the written decision was indefensible and they were gonna take another look. Pros: Hey, I won! I get a second hearing! Cons: I didn't get a brief written by the federal law firm because there was no time. This is actually a tactic used by the SSA. I have no doubt they're fine tuning another denial. I also have to wait for the lower level court to figure out what was so bad about it (that they'd already ruled was perfect) to give to the judge I will have another hearing with. The same judge. Who said I was a liar multiple times and omitted eight months of medical evidence and said mental health issues are subjective hahaha. I hate this country. Health: Boy howdy it's been better and worse. I had the tilt table test in late December, went... ok enough, but my neuro didn't like how ambiguous the report was and sent me back to them to speak to an autonomic disorder specialist. Scheduled in Jan, just had my appt with her this month lol she is busy. She ordered: genetics test, labs, and skin biopsy. I've done the first two, third is scheduled in July and I'm gonna be a mess because needles u_u Brain stuff is much of the same. Episodic. Manageable times are a godsend, bad times are really bad. My heart started to do some funky ass shit a few months ago. My mom kept writing it off as anxiety no matter how much I explained that it felt like my heart was pounding after exercise. My BP and pulse shot up high for a while and b/c my pulse never came back down and it was interfering with, you know, living, my PCP sent me to cardiology. :') Cause I wanted my heart involved in this mess One 24hr holter monitor, echo, and heart ultrasound later, and I have a new heart condition. He said 'your heart is beating so fast you would normally see it with exercise' bada boom baby and has nothing to do with fucking ANXIETY >:[ I'm on heart medication. 10 meds. I need to start another med for my psych but that's 11 and I'm honestly getting upset because it's so fucking much medication in one day but every single one of them is necessary so what can really I do? Personal: Relationship with my mom is at an all time low. This is extremely unfortunate because a few weeks ago, my mom told me she is basically being 'laid off' (she's not losing her job for a while, just retiring earlier than expected) and I have to leave my home of 10 years by mid-August. Got no sympathy from her about it *finger guns* I've gone through the devastation of that and am kind of just stuck in how is any of that gonna work. My brother and I can't live together, so he's gonna move into a family friend's rental. Except he has no job and hasn't been able to get one in months. He started one on Monday, is gonna leave by Friday because it's horrific ig. Anyway my mom promises he won't be there. We have to move based on my disabilities and my mom's house is gonna have to reflect what we have here. I'll see it when I believe it. I don't trust her anymore. Extra unfortunate that I'm gonna be living 24/7 with my mother who has been an abusive person in my life the past two years. The short break thru the day that my apartment is just mine, quiet and gentle, is gonna be gone. I'll be introducing my solitary 11 year old cat Lilly into a house with 3 other cats. She only knew Isis her entire life. She was just diagnosed with neuro issues this year after going through an MRI. We don't know if she has seizure activity or if it's movement disorder, but the med she's on treats both and she has gotten better. Same process Isis went through. Cannot believe I have two cats with neuro issues and likely the same one. May 18th was one year since Isis passed. Rough, tiring day.

I don't know how it has been that long. Feels like it just happened. I can still see her and feel her through my apartment and losing it in August will probably shatter me most because of losing the last place she existed in. I miss her more than I can say.

She was my little soulmate and her absence is felt in every corner here. Writing/Fandom:

I went through a whole fucking situation over in the Stranger Things fandom that has left me not wanting to post anymore. Idk if neuro shit has destroyed my ability to write but it's humiliating and painful every time I post a fic.

I posted stucky (1 out of 2 fics this year) on my main acct and lost 8 fuckin user subs? Like goddamn. What'd stucky do 😭 anyway it was even more devastating and kinda like 'here's your big ass sign to keep your writing to yourself.'

Between the god awful shit that happened in the ST fandom and my inability to put together even a good one shot, I'm feeling really down about one of two creative things I can do in my life. I used to love sharing my stuff. I want to write and share but it feels like it's harming my MH. I can't draw or paint right now, either. And I can barely move around my apartment without pain. I can't even leave it except for doctor appointments.

Idk. Very walls are closing in type of feeling and I hate it. In short: I'm tired, struggling, and too many things are happening at once. I love you all 😩💜 thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Your support is felt through one update to the next. I hope you're all well and I'm sending all my love and hugs to you.

[kartaylirnaak]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag @medic-6116

Rules: In a new post, paste these following questions with your own answers, and then tag somebody, just for fun!

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

At the moment it's 11.

2.) What’s your ao3 word count?

29,647

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars, specifically The Clone Wars.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Lingerie Approval Board — Codywan, Obi-Wan/212th, Obi-Wan/Ghost Company, Smut, Chat fic, slightly cracky

9. Praise Kink (Fox/Dogma) — Smut, Kinktober 2024, Dom Fox, sub Dogma, Dogma is The Goodest Boy

5. Fisting (Bacara/Fox/Neyo/Wolffe) — Smut, Kinktober 2024, Trans Fox, Poly clones

3. Vibrator (Dogma/Hardcase/Tup) — Smut, Kinktober 2024, Poly clones, Dogma is a Good Boy

17. Fucking Machine and Gags (Cody/Rex) — Smut, Kinktober 2024, sub bottom Cody, Dom Rex, Clone Rebellion

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Getting a comment on a fic is so special and is often the highlight of my day. The lack of people that comment is so disheartening so if someone does go to the effort of commenting, then I'm definitely going to go to the effort of replying and thanking them for reading and commenting. Plus I like to hear about what they enjoyed and love seeing peoples feral reactions to the smut I've written >:3

6.) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Nothing yet and likely never will. Not a fan of angst. The most I can do is light angst with a happy ending.

7.) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics don't really have an ending per say, as the fics in my Kinktober 2024 series are more like moments in a larger scene, rather than whole complete fics. The only fic that really has a more concrete ending is The Lingerie Approval Board, and that's a fairly happy ending, particularly for Obi-Wan.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I've seen but if I do, that shit is getting blocked and reported.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Hell yeah! Very kinky smut >:3

10.) Do you write cross overs? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. Don't do that shit.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet.

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I haven't cowritten a fic with someone that we've then posted on AO3 but I have certainly rambled on and bounced ideas off others in discord servers.

14.) What’s your all time favourite ship?

How am I supposed to chose?! *cries in multishipper* My OTP is probably Jessix, followed closely by Codex and Foxma.

15.) What’s a WIP you’d like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I've got a bunch of WIPs for other prompts from Kinktober 2024 that I really want to finish but I'm really not sure if those will ever happen. I'd love to do a whole fic and more about Match, my 212th ARC OC that I cover in more detail in an answer to this ask, but as I mention in that post, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to do that justice either.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

Not really sure what to put here. Does being detailed count? Though that's also a weakness. I do really like getting into the emotions of smut and the trust and vulnerability that is essential to kink and bdsm working. The safety that finally allows a character to let go and get the release they need.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Rambling on far too much and going into far too much detail. Being unable to finish things. Planning too much and then not being able to write the actual fic because my brain thinks it's already written the damn fic.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I enjoy a liberal smattering of Mando'a in my fics but I usually stick to one or two words in dialogue. Anymore than that and I find it difficult to read and understand.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars. I only started writing fic fairly recently.

20.) Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm not sure I have an outright favourite. I'm fond of various different ones for various different reasons. I'm quite fond of 13. Dom/Sub (Fox/Dogma) as it gets into some of the things I was talking about in my answer to question 16.

No Pressure Tags (NPTs): I never know who to tag in these things, mainly because I'm worried about tagging someone who's already been tagged by other people. So if you see this, consider yourself tagged! Especially if you write kinky smut.

[seraphim-soulmate]

I needed to send another email to a government program and when checking if I'd attached the proper documents, started crying pretty hard because I didn't fully realize what I'd been sending these people. I fully read the documents that I've just been sending as proof of my disability and it tore me apart while building me back up.

One document is a testament to every treatment I tried, written by the pain clinic, with all the results of every treatment. Every consult I went to, another update about what I'd been trying. it's not absolutely everything either, bcs there were months that I didn't go to the pain clinic so they didn't get an update. I did SO much and fought SO hard to get myself help, to try to feel better. And it's all there, in that document. And I'd gaslight myself into thinking my problems weren't that bad, that I was being excessive or making things up. That I didn't have a right to articulate my needs and get them met, that I wasn't even allowed to have needs. I had to work, actually work on, in therapy, finding out my most basic needs. Then communicating them. Without dismissing myself or belittling myself or thinking I'm bad or my needs are bad if someone cannot meet them. Now I have to work on communicating them in a way that doesn't sound like an order, and communicating them early enough that I don't feel a need to articulate them like an order.

There's also of course my psychiatrist's letter which is hard-hitting too. The fact that I helped write the rough draft only makes it even more painful, but in a good way. The last sentence, after pages of my diagnoses and how they impact me, is "despite his many problems, he presents a beautiful resilience associated with a strong desire to improve his life conditions and to better integrate into society." When you've just read the medical report from the pain clinic, then the one from the psychiatrist, I don't know who wouldn't be shaking in tears after that tbh. Especially with the knowledge of where I was at in life, that I was caretaking for my grandmother the entire time that I was struggling myself, and that I was alone. I had friends, and I cannot be more grateful for those who stood by me, but not having family is hard. Knowing your parents don't understand and can't help is hard. I'm glad my dad tried, that he's gotten better at believing me again. He was the one who actually came to me with the idea that it might be fibro, but that was such a scary diagnosis at the time, for the fact that it was psychosomatic and for the fact that there was no relief, that it took me a bit to accept that he was trying to help. And then I looked into it more. And I went to the pain clinic. And I got so so so very lucky making an appointment, I got one for the following week because of a cancellation. I would have had to wait months otherwise.

Knowing I did that, by myself, alone. I researched conditions and symptoms and medications and treatments and therapies and the list goes on! I became a micro-expert in my field of disability, because you have to if you want to know what your doctors are doing to you and what you can do in response. Advocating for yourself as a disabled person and fighting with doctors is one of the most fucked up things I got from this experience. Some of them are absolutely repugnant.

I searched for all the medical professionals, I reached out to them, I booked the appointments, I reached out to get help going to the appointments so I would have a witness to how doctors treated me, I tried again and again and again, despite so many treatments failing or even worsening my pain. It's so weird to look back on that and think that I didn't just do nothing about my condition, that I was more active and engaged in my care than most disabled people are (or can be, no diss to disabled ppl who cannot get access to care).

I'm proud of that, of everything I've done, but it's also deeply fucking sad. I did that all alone. I didn't get a diagnosis when I was younger, I didn't have the support of my parents. My mom didn't book doctors appointments for me, she didn't take me to them, she didn't hold me when I was weeping with pain and grief and loss. She's proud of me, for everything I've accomplished, because she's now seen people with my conditions who struggle more than I do and she realizes now how excruciating it is for me to be here- to exist. Realistically I know it was easier for me to do it without her, she lives in the middle of nowhere and would have been more of a burden than help, but it's still hard. It's hard that I cannot count on my parents for this, to literally take care of me. Idk if it'll ever not be hard, if I'll ever forgive them for not listening to me all those years I cried out for help to be met with silence, or worse, accusations of lying. Of making it up for attention.

But I'm a success story. I'm living, breathing, being human, being loved and loving, and dealing with it all as it comes. I get to wake up another day and see how the sun reflects off the leaves, I get to see another sunset, I get to see the snow, I get to go to the park, I get to craft, to create, to play. I get to be part of other people's stories. I get to discover my own story.

[camels-pen]

2023 Fic Round Up

hello and welcome! if you're reading this it's near midnight EST on Dec. 31 (or maybe past midnight bc i forget stuff alot) and new year's is going to start soon! To end off the year, I wanted to make another Fic Round Up post to tally up all that I've written this year!

Years Past: 2022 Fic Round Up, 2021 Fic Round Up

Posted Fics: 31

Word Count: 153,618

Compared to previous years, I've written for a few different fandoms so the formatting will be a bit different!

Formatting: Title // Fandom // Gen or Ship (+ Name) // Event (if applicable) // [Type of Crossover, if applicable]

~Listed from Oldest to Newest~

this one's on you // DP // Ship - UFS

somnolescent // DC, Static Shock // Ship - Virichie / Gearshock

greater good // DC, Batman // Gen // [PMMM crossover]

ghost of your past // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

The Law of Fenton // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

Snaked // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

a solution like clock repair // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

unethical medicals // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

The Power of Plywood // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

crab time // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

ride to the end // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

wrong conclusions // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

livin' two lives is a little weird // DP // Ship - Everlasting Trio // Phic Phight

haha summonings amiright folks // DP // Ship - Gray Ghost // Phic Phight

pet of time // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

no one fluffs au // DP // Gen // Phic Phight

Weather Report // DP // Ship - UFS // Phic Phight

love is blind (really REALLY blind) // DP // Ship - UFS // Phic Phight

you get the limo out front // DP // Ship - Everlasting Trio

cupcake // DC, Batman // Gen // [PMMM crossover]

a little treat // DP // Gen

nothing but time // DP // Ship - Amethyst Ocean

that damn ghost boy again, of all places // DP // Ship - UFS // Invisobang // [Sonic Adventure 2: Battle crossover]

to each their own // One Piece // Ship - Sanuso

Mask // One Piece // Ship - Sanuso

Lemonade // One Piece // Ship - Sanuso

slow descent // DP // Gen // Ecto-implosion

entrusting your stomach (is a task in itself) // One Piece // Ship - Sanuso

keeping an eye out // One Piece // Ship - Zosopp

literal coffee thoughts // One Piece // Ship - Sanuso

showboating affection // One Piece // Ship - Zosopp

[theprinceandthewitch]

Okay, time to jump back into the pits of IDV lore...

Character Introduction:

Alice DeRoss had a fulfilling childhood and a happy family. Enlightened and gentle parents, kind and reliable playmates shaped her optimistic and cheerful personality.

However, a tragic accident at the age of six changed everything, the family fell overnight, she was also known as the daughter of misfortune, suffered from hysteria and was sent to the orphanage.

She experienced both mental and physical torture in the orphanage until she was secretly adopted by a medical professor as an experimental subject and brought to Melbourne when she was 14 years old.

With prolonged medication and physical therapy, she gradually regained consciousness, however, it is perhaps more cruel to live soberly in hell than to live unaware in human world.

Luckily, the voice that existed in her memory kept saving her back to the brink of collapse repeatedly. Finally, all this changed her, but did not destroy her.

At the age of 21, Alice escaped back to England and became a social journalist in anonymity, looking for the truth about the tragedy and the disappearance of her playmates.

As an adult, Alice is elegant and intelligent, tough and brave personality, good at observation and disguise, as well as having excellent oratorical talent and analytical ability, unforgettable, able to sharply capture the emotions of others, however, because of pathological reasons, and drug testing at an early age, her sense of fear to be significantly weaker than normal, but also have more than normal endurance.

But even if she overcame the nightmare of the past, but it does not remove it. When alone, Alice de Rose[sic] has a serious cleanliness and obsessive-compulsive disorder, always wears gloves and hates sharp sounds.[3]

----

Oh okay, so Orpheus was basically her guiding light during the time she was being used as a lab rat.... guiding her out of the Underworld, so to speak...

OKAY.

----

A Crumpled Medical Report (2024):

(The back of the paper is covered in sawdust, while the front bears fragmented information written in somewhat juvenile handwriting.) Greetings. It seems I was correct—you found my message. Someone left a pen here—I've hidden it in the crevice between the second window and the iron bars. Perhaps they hoped you'd write something down, as I have. ... Greetings. Yes, I've found them. I'll write down what I remember, then return them to their place. The nurses wouldn't want any extra things lying about the room now, would they? ... I seem to have forgotten something... What a good start—at least I remember that I forgot something. ... They had my favorite chestnut cake this morning. ... No, wasn't breakfast raspberry cake? ... Who are you? ... Someone changed my medication. It must've been the one who left the pen. ... Who are you? ... If you're reading this, then you've guessed correctly... ... Who are you? ... I've discovered Dr. Bourbon's secret. ... Who are you? ... Remember, you've already forgotten "who I am..." ... Who are you? ... That key is in Dr.Bourbon's drawer. ... Who are you? ... They seem to have noticed the issue with the medication, but no matter, we can strike tonight. ... Welcome back, my bravest Nightingale.

----

I'M....

ORPHEUS HELPED HER ESCAPE FROM THE SCIENTISTS?

----

Also, my sleep deprived ass thought this letter was talking about a future event, but it's actually talking about Alice's time at the orphanage.

December 23rd, 1894 Myles (迈尔西) Orphanage

Dear Mr. ▇▇▇,

We’re terribly sorry to inform you that we were unable to approve your request of adoption regarding Alice. However, please believe us when we say that this has nothing to do with adoption fees; instead, it is about ethical considerations - we believe that members of her family, relatives by blood, would be a better fit (I hope you understand what I mean).

Despite this, you may still visit her as a friend, but we would not suggest doing so at the moment. Her current condition is worrisome. Since her arrival, her mental state has been on the border between consciousness and insanity. Any slight irritation will cause her to continuously scream shrilly, and scratching became her only form of communication with others. Even when she is in her more conscious state, she refuses to interact with others, but she can at least act independently. Therefore, we were forced to arrange a room alone. Now, this may sound immoral, but it can guarantee that she will not put anyone in harm’s way - especially, herself. To be frank, when compared to the other children, she already receives extremely special treatment. However, the doting and care the workers provide (Oh, goodness, they all love little Alice so much), and separately assigned room arrangements both require tremendous sums of money (For all I know, there’s been a number of people who have told me in secret that Alice belongs in an asylum and not an orphanage). Of course, “Benevolence treats all people equally” is our orphanage’s goal: we will do our best to ensure her living conditions here, within our current economic situation.

Perhaps, after a while, when her condition is stable, we will contact you for a visit. But, in the meantime, please wait patiently and have faith in us to protect every child that is sent here. We truly hope Alice is able to swiftly recover, and receive - as well as, be able to - enjoy her happy life.

Sincerely,

The Head of Myles (迈尔西) Orphanage

(The word “LIAR” is scrawled onto the letter, in large, capital red letters.)

---

The person who wrote this letter is heavily implied to be Orpheus...

Before everyone gets all up in arms: Orpheus is three years older than Alice... he's not some grown man, lmao

[utterly-thrilling]

Not to complain or anything. NOT TO COMPLAIN. But I am mostly bedbound, and navigating the health system is. Not good. this is just a small flavour of

disabled admin hell gothic

usually, I can barely move. I always need a wheelchair outside the house. a wheelchair needs a disabled parking spot to get out the car

i must renew my disabled parking badge even though my illness is permanent. fine. fine.

my illness affects my brain. it is very hard to do forms most of the time. It worsens all my physical symptoms, including pain. so does stress. but fine. it’s fine.

the reminder takes me to a many-step questionnaire about eligibility

this leads me to a 15-section form where I must provide details and photos. i provide details and photos.

it strongly suggests including medical proof. ok. OK.

my diagnosis letter is 6 years old, and in the wrong gender. (it was very hard to get. even bedbound and collapsing in the street).

there is no treatment apart from talk therapy to help you accept the situation. (it took years on a waiting list to receive it.) i have almost no letters from it. none describe my disability

fine. fine. i will contact my doctors surgery, which I am too ill to go to in person, for a new letter, to prove I am ill

i contact my doctors through a many-step online form (originally, i did three forms with a long questionnaire to access this)

I have only ever spoken to one of the doctors. I’m assigned a different one who knows nothing about me. fine. fine

they tell me they will contact me THURSDAY. this is the best doctors i've ever had in my life. it is not good.

I spend all thursday stressed and unable to rest.

It turns out the ‘contact’ is a text message

it tells me I have to provide my written online request in writing

in person

in a physical letter

to hand over to the admin team to hand over to the reports team

i am disabled. this is why I need a parking pass. I cannot go to the doctors in person. I cannot go anywhere independently

my partner will have to take time off work to take me. this will physically destroy me

and my disabled parking pass

is about to run out

[bracketsoffear]

I voted for Monica, but I feel the need to defend Clarimonda because they're both "eh" choices for me and I mostly picked Monica to avenge Sheevsweep, so here's some evidence from "The Spider."

"Since the window was very low, he hung with his knees practically touching the floor—a sign of the great discipline the suicide must have exercised in carrying out his design. Later, it was learned that he was a married man, a father. He had been a man of a continually happy disposition; a man who had achieved a secure place in life. There was not one written word to be found that would have shed light on his suicide… not even a will."

"On Friday morning, he came in very excited and spoke, half humorously, half seriously, of the strangely attractive power that his window had. He would not elaborate this notion and said that, in any case, it had nothing to do with the suicides; and that it would be ridiculous of him to say any more. When, on that same Friday, he failed to make his regular evening report, someone went to his room and found him hanging from the cross-bar of the window."

"It was only later, after what happened to the medical student, that anyone remembered that when the police removed Sergeant Charles-Maria Chaumié's body from the window cross-bar a large black spider crawled from the dead man's open mouth [...] When in later investigations which concerned themselves mostly with Bracquemont the servant was interrogated, he said that he had seen a similar spider crawling on the Swiss traveling salesman's shoulder when his body was removed from the window cross-bar."

"it was I who was chosen. Why? Because I was the only one who hinted that I had some plan—or the semblance of a plan. Naturally, I was bluffing. These journal entries are intended for the police. I must say that it amuses me to tell those gentlemen how neatly I fooled them [...] I take it as a good sign that I've begun my task by bamboozling the police.

[...]

'Ah, if only you had a plan. Then...' On the spot, I announced that I had such a plan, though naturally I had no such thing. Still, I hinted that my plan was brilliant, but dangerous [...] Still, I promised to describe it to him if he would give me his word that he would personally put it into effect. He made excuses, claiming he was too busy but when he asked me to give him at least a hint of my plan, I saw that I had picqued his interest. I rattled off some nonsense made up of whole cloth."

I find it interesting that one could take this as Clarimonda sees Richard manipulating his way into the room and decides to show him how it's done.

"I haven't yet said anything about Clarimonda. It is she who is my "third" reason for staying here. She is also the reason I was tempted to go to the window during the "fateful" hour last Friday. But of course, not to hang myself.

Clarimonda. Why do I call her that? I have no idea what her name is, but it ought to be Clarimonda. When finally I ask her name, I'm sure it will turn out to be Clarimonda.

[...]

I ought to say that she noticed me before I saw her; and that she was obviously interested in me. And no wonder. The whole neighborhood knows I am here, and why. Madame Dubonnet has seen to that.

[...]

At first, the idea of establishing some relationship with her simply did not occur to me. It was only that, since I was here to make observations, and, since there was nothing in the room to observe, I thought I might as well observe my neighbor—openly, professionally. Anyhow, one can't sit all day long just reading."

"She sits there, spinning on an old-fashioned spindle [...] It appears to be made of ivory; and the thread she spins is of an exceptional fineness."

"What does Clarimonda look like? I'm not quite sure. Her hair is black and wavy; her face pale. Her nose is short and finely shaped with delicate nostrils that seem to quiver. Her lips, too, are pale: and when she smiles, it seems that her small teeth are as keen as those of some beast of prey. Her eyelashes are long and dark; and her huge dark eyes have an intense glow. I guess all these details more than I know them."

"It is a curious sight: her delicate hands moving perpetually, swiftly grasping the thread, pulling it, releasing it, taking it up again; as if one were watching the indefatigable motions of an insect.

Our relationship? For the moment, still very superficial, though it feels deeper. It began with a sudden exchange of glances in which each of us noted the other. I must have pleased her, because one day she studied me a while longer, then smiled tentatively. Naturally, I smiled back."

"I tried to read, but I felt much too uneasy. Instead, I sat down at my window and gazed at Clarimonda. She too had laid her work aside. Her hands were folded in her lap. I drew my curtain wider with the window cord, so that I might see better. At the same moment, Clarimonda did the same with the curtains at her window. We exchanged smiles.

We must have spent a full hour gazing at each other."

"I waited until I was invaded by an irresistible need to go to the window—not to hang myself; but just to see Clarimonda. I sprang up and stood beside the curtain where it seemed to me I had never been able to see so clearly, though it was already dark.

Clarimonda was spinning, but her eyes looked into mine. I felt myself strangely contented even as I experienced a light sensation of fear.

The telephone rang. It was the Inspector tearing me out of my trance with his idiotic questions.

I was furious."

"I read two or three pages only to discover that I haven't understood a word. My eyes see the letters, but my brain refuses to make any sense of them. Absurd. As if my brain were posted: 'No Trespassing.' It is as if there were no room in my head for any other thought than the one: Clarimonda."

"Today, I saw a much smaller spider, a male, moving across the strong threads towards the middle of the web, but when his movements alerted the female, he drew back shyly to the edge of the web from which he made a second attempt to cross it. Finally, the female in the middle appeared attentive to his wooing, and stopped moving. The male tugged at a strand gently, then more strongly till the whole web shook. The female stayed motionless. The male moved quickly forward and the female received him quietly, calmly, giving herself over completely to his embraces. For a long minute, they hung together motionless at the center of the huge web.

Then I saw the male slowly extricating himself, one leg over the other. It was as if he wanted tactfully to leave his companion alone in the dream of love, but as he started away, the female, overwhelmed by a wild life, was after him, hunting him ruthlessly [...] Then they fell to the window-sill where the male, summoning all his strength, tried again to escape. Too late. The female already had him in her powerful grip, and was carrying him back to the center of the web. There, the place that had just served as the couch for their lascivious embraces took on quite another aspect. The lover wriggled, trying to escape from the female's wild embrace, but she was too much for him. It was not long before she had wrapped him completely in her thread, and he was helpless. Then she dug her sharp pincers into his body, and sucked full draughts of her young lover's blood. Finally, she detached herself from the pitiful and unrecognizable shell of his body and threw it out of her web.

So that is what love is like among these creatures. Well for me that I am not a spider."

"I greet her; then she greets me. Then I tap my fingers on the windowpanes. The moment she sees me doing that, she too begins tapping. I wave to her; she waves back. I move my lips as if speaking to her; she does the same. I run my hand through my sleep-disheveled hair and instantly her hand is at her forehead. It is a child's game, and we both laugh over it. Actually, she doesn't laugh. She only smiles a gently contained smile. And I smile back in the same way.

The game is not as trivial as it seems. It's not as if we were grossly imitating each other—that would weary us both. Rather, we are communicating with each other. Sometimes, telepathically, it would seem, since Clarimonda follows my movements instantaneously almost before she has had time to see them. I find myself inventing new movements, or new combinations of movements, but each time she repeats them with disconcerting speed. Sometimes. I change the order of the movements to surprise her, making whole series of gestures as rapidly as possible; or I leave out some motions and weave in others, the way children play 'Simon Says.' What is amazing is that Clarimonda never once makes a mistake, no matter how quickly I change gestures."

"It is hard for me to be sure of my feelings and harder still to think of anything that doesn't relate to Clarimonda or, what is more important, to our game. Undeniably, it is our game that concerns me. Nothing else—and this is what I understand least of all.

There is no doubt that I am drawn to Clarimonda, but with this attraction there is mingled another feeling, fear. No. That's not it either. Say rather a vague apprehension in the presence of the unknown. And this anxiety has a strangely voluptuous quality so that I am at the same time drawn to her even as I am repelled by her. It is as if I were moving in giant circles around her, sometimes coming close, sometimes retreating... back and forth, back and forth."

"I was sitting at the window, trying with all my might to stay in my chair, but the window kept drawing me. I had to resume the game with Clarimonda. And yet, the window horrified me. I saw the others hanging there: the Swiss traveling salesman, fat, with a thick neck and a grey stubbly beard; the thin artist; and the powerful police sergeant. I saw them, one after the other, hanging from the same hook, their mouths open, their tongues sticking out. And then, I saw myself among them.

Oh, this unspeakable fear. It was clear to me that it was provoked as much by Clarimonda as by the cross-bar and the horrible hook. May she pardon me... but it is the truth. In my terror, I keep seeing the three men hanging there, their legs dragging on the floor.

And yet, the fact is I had not felt the slightest desire to hang myself; nor was I afraid that I would want to do so. No, it was the window I feared; and Clarimonda. I was sure that something horrid was going to happen."

"I told him that I was getting to the bottom of the matter, but I begged him not to question me just then. That very soon I would be in a position to make important revelations. Strangely enough, though I was lying to him. I myself had the feeling that I was telling the truth. Even now, against my will, I have that same conviction."

"Yes, the game. We played it again. And nothing else. Nothing at all.

Sometimes I wonder what is happening to me? What is it I want? Where is all this leading? I know the answer: there is nothing else I want except what is happening. It is what I want... what I long for. This only.

Clarimonda and I have spoken with each other in the course of the last few days, but very briefly; scarcely a word. Sometimes we moved our lips, but more often we just looked at each other with deep understanding.

I was right about Clarimonda's reproachful look because I went out with the Inspector last Friday. I asked her to forgive me. I said it was stupid of me, and spiteful to have gone. She forgave me, and I promised never to leave the window again. We kissed, pressing our lips against each of our windowpanes."

"If only I were not so frightened. Sometimes my terror slumbers and I forget it for a few moments, then it wakes and does not leave me. The fear is like a poor mouse trying to escape the grip of a powerful serpent. Just wait a bit, poor sad terror. Very soon, the serpent love will devour you."

"I have made a discovery: I don't play with Clarimonda. She plays with me.

[...]

I had gone through a long series of gestures at the window, and not one of the patterns had been mine.

I had the feeling, once more, that I was standing before Clarimonda's wide open door, through which, though I stared. I could see nothing but a dark void. I knew, too, that if I chose to turn from that door now. I might be saved; and that I still had the power to leave. And yet, I did not leave—because I felt myself at the very edge of the mystery: as if I were holding the secret in my hands.

'Paris! You will conquer Paris,' I thought. And in that instant, Paris was more powerful than Clarimonda.

I don't think about that any more. Now, I feel only love. Love, and a delicious terror.

[...]

it occurred to me to rub the side of my nose; instead I found myself pressing my lips to the windowpane. I tried to drum with my fingers on the window sill; instead, I brushed my fingers through my hair. And so I understood that it was not that Clarimonda did what I did. Rather, my gestures followed her lead and with such lightning rapidity that we seemed to be moving simultaneously. I, who had been so proud because I thought I had been influencing her, I was in fact being influenced by her. Her influence… so gentle… so delightful.

[...]

It seemed to me that it was not I who was doing all this. It was a stranger whom I was watching.

But, of course, I was mistaken. It was I making the gesture, and the person watching me was the stranger; that very same stranger who, not long ago, was so sure that he was on the edge of a great discovery. In any case, it was not I.

Of what use to me is this discovery? I am here to do Clarimonda's will. Clarimonda, whom I love with an anguished heart."

"I have cut the telephone cord. I have no wish to be continually disturbed by the idiotic inspector just as the mysterious hour arrives.

God. Why did I write that? Not a word of it is true. It is as if someone else were directing my pen.

But I want to... want to... to write the truth here... though it is costing me great effort. But I want to... once more... do what I want.

I have cut the telephone cord... ah...

Because I had to... there it is. Had to...

We stood at our windows this morning and played the game, which is now different from what it was yesterday. Clarimonda makes a movement and I resist it for as long as I can. Then I give in and do what she wants without further struggle. I can hardly express what a joy it is to be so conquered; to surrender entirely to her will."

"She takes the cord. It is red, just like the cord in my window. She ties a noose and hangs the cord on the hook in the window cross-bar.

She sits down and smiles.

No. Fear is no longer what I feel. Rather, it is a sort of oppressive terror which I would not want to avoid for anything in the world. Its grip is irresistible, profoundly cruel, and voluptuous in its attraction.

I could go to the window, and do what she wants me to do, but I wait. I struggle. I resist though I feel a mounting fascination that becomes more intense each minute."

"I won't, and yet I know very well that I have to... have to look at her. I must... must... and then... all that follows.

If I still wait, it is only to prolong this exquisite torture. Yes, that's it. This breathless anguish is my supreme delight. I write quickly, quickly... just so I can continue to sit here; so I can attenuate these seconds of pain.

Again, terror. Again. I know that I will look toward her. That I will stand up. That I will hang myself.

That doesn't frighten me. That is beautiful... even precious.

There is something else. What will happen afterwards? I don't know, but since my torment is so delicious. I feel... feel that something horrible must follow.

Think... think... Write something. Anything at all... to keep from looking toward her..."

"He found the body of the student Richard Bracquemont hanging from the cross-bar of the window in room No. 7, in the same position as each of his three predecessors.

The expression on the student's face, however, was different, reflecting an appalling fear.

Bracquemont's eyes were wide open and bulging from their sockets. His lips were drawn into a rictus, and his jaws were clamped together. A huge black spider whose body was dotted with purple spots lay crushed and nearly bitten in two between his teeth.

On the table, there lay the student's journal. The inspector read it and went immediately to investigate the house across the street. What he learned was that the second floor of that building had not been lived in for many months."

Ah damn, I think I picked the wrong one.

OK, that settles it, vote Clarimonda.

.

[elsaedelweiss]

Sick after a collective mission - Falken, Narmer, Ollie, Drew, and Elliot

Written as a comfort fic and inspired by a short from Simon's Cat...

Inna submitted her ID card. "Welcome, Medical Ops Chief Inna!" The bars impeding her entrance shifted open. She retrieved her card and stepped through, stopping to grab her bag.

"Inna! Over here!"

She looked to the source of the call. Her friends and fellow Medical Ops Chiefs Vin, Gulla, Atepa and Aeria stood to the side. Vin waved her over, a wide grin on her face. Inna retuned her grin and waved before walking over.

"Good morning ladies! Any news from our partners?"

"None so far!" Said Atepa, her equine ears briefly laying flat on her head. "Though I'm sure they are fine and will return soon!" She added, ears returning to upright position.

"I hope so. I've been worried about them for a few days now... Especially for Narmer," said Gulla, her canine ears lowering. "He may be intelligent but he also tends to be reckless at times."

"Hence why Raven agreed to lend him and Ollie a hand by sending Drew, Elliot and Falken!" Said Vin, her hummingbird wings fluttering faster. "So there would be plenty of people to keep him in check!"

"I agree! Those three are known for their level-headedness!" Added Aeria, her serpentine tail flicking.

Inna smiled, her own cat tail flicking back and forth. "I agree with you, Vin and Aeria! I also have a feeling we'll have news soon enough!"

"Good news, I hope!" Said Gulla.

"They will be!" Assured her Atepa. "Relax, cousin!"

"I agree with my older sis! Relax, Gul!" said Aeria.

Just then, the intercom system activated. "Medical Ops Chief Inna! Medical Ops Chief Atepa! Medical Ops Chief Aeria! Medical Ops Chief Vin! Medical Ops Chief Gulla! Report to the Medical Ops Wing!"

The group looked to one another. They took off trying to walk as quickly yet calmly as possible. Within minutes they reached the Medical Ops Wing. Clara and Heng Yue greeted them at the door. "Good morning, Medical Ops Chiefs!"

"Good morning Head Medics Clara and Heng Yue!"

The two Head Medics smiled reassuringly. Neither had missed the way the group looked worried or the way their voices appeared calm yet with a note of concern. "Please come with us. Don't worry it's nothing to be concerned about."

The group fell in line behind the pair, each throwing a glance to the others. The Head Medics took them to a hospital room. The group could hear coughs coming from inside. The teo Head Medics stood at both sides and gestured. "Your assignments for the next couple of days await you inside!"

Bracing herself, Inna opened the door... She had to bite back laughter. Their partners and beloved lay on hospital beds. Each was sporting a red nose, slightly glassy eyes and a paler complexion. The group looked up at the opening of the door and froze looking like startled deer.

The rest of the group looked through the door... And they had to hold back their laughter. Atepa looked to Clara and Heng Yue. "Our assignments?"

"We figured they'd be more willing to follow orders from their partners," explained Clara, winking.

"Besides... We did promise Abigail and Raven that they would return to their respective places in prime condition as soon as possible..." said Heng Yue with a smile. "Especially after they had the recklessness to go out without proper weather attire and thus caught a cold."

Narmer tried to protest only for Falken to gently nudge him.

"We see. Well then..." Inna turned to the group of sick and cracked her fingers. "Let's get started!"

Clara and Heng Yue smiled. "We expect thorough reports at the end of the day!"

"Will do!" came the chorus. The Head Medics smiled and closed the door.

The group looked at one another and spread out. Aeria stopped by Ollie's bed. "So... What made you guys have the "recklessness to go out without proper weather attire"?"

Ollie looked a little embarrassed. He looked away before he sighed and looked back. "Our mission took us to the frozen tundra. I can't tell you much about what let us there... Besides that it included clues about my family's past and a connection to the Shadow Decree. "

Aeria lifted an eyebrow. "Leon...?"

"And the Artificial Esper Project," added Ollie.

"What happened?"

"We were staking out a potential Decree hideout which we believed held Leon and the latest people to have gone missing," said Falken. He sneezed turning away from Inna who was busy, checking him. She muttered a quick "bless you" and he thanked her before he continued. "We had been keeping watch and taking turns. It was Elliot's turn during our last night on the mission. It seemed to be going well..."

"Until Falken who had gone out to scout the area to keep vigil for potential animal treats saw that the Decree were trying to escape as quietly as possible from a hidden spot about a kilometre away," said Narmer. "We couldn't let that happen so we rushed out to intercept them."

"And in the process we forgot to get dressed for the cold weather..." added Drew, his ears lowering in embarrassment.

"Falken was the only one who was properly dressed but..."

"By the time the battle was over and we had managed to rescue everyone the rest were starting to sneeze and cough... I may have a strong immune system..."

"But even you can't handle an onslaught of rhinovirus particles coming from four sides.." finished Inna as she took out the stethoscope. "You know the drill, darling."

The High Commander nodded and lifted his shirt so she can check his respiratory system. Nearby Aeria and Vin were doing the same. In the meantime Atepa and Gulla checked their partners' heart rates. Once the examinations were over, Inna and Aeria pulled out their standard-issue PHS.

A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. Atepa got up and opened. Ye Suhua stood in the hallway. "Hi Atepa!"

"Hi!"

"Here's the medicine, Aeria and Inna asked for!"

"Thanks!"

"Please extend my well wishes to Commander Falken, Chief Drew, Archivist Elliot and our guests!"

"Will do! And can you do us a little favour?"

"Sure! What is it?"

"Can you go and ask the cooks to prepare five chicken soup portions? Just the way, our tended like them?"

"Of course!" With that, Ye Suhua left.

Atepa turned to the group, closing the door with one hand. "Medicine time!"

The sick looked up. They clearly didn't like the perspective of having to take medications. But if they want to get back on their feet as soon as possible...

"Oh, don't look so forlorn! Soon after, we'll be delivered bowls of nice hot chicken soup!"

Drew immediately perked up his ears going upright. Narmer tried to conceal his excitement but his wings gave him away. Elliot didn't change his expression but his ever-present paper cranes began to fly about more quickly than before. Falken didn't show his gladness save for his eyes glowing a bit brighter. Ollie let a faint smile play on his lips before he let his expression return to normal.

The girls handed out the medicine each patient cringing just a bit before swallowing their doses. Narmer coughed a little. "Do they always have to make medicine taste like horse manure?"

"Yes, they have to, darling," replied Gulla. "Otherwise people would be tempted to get sick all the time just to have a dose and this stuff is technically poison!"

"Point taken!" Said Narmer. He tried to settle in as best as he could given his wings. Gulla helped him by arranging the pillows. Just as she finished, the group could hear a knock at the door.

Aeria got up from the bed and opened. Ye Suhua stood, Lauren behind her. Each carried a tray with five bowls, steam rising from them. Besides the bowls was a smaller saucer heaped with macarons.

"Special delivery for room 199!" Said jokingly Ye Suhua!

Aeria grinned. "Thank you! Though I don't recall requesting dessert."

"Compliments from me to the patients and their caretakers! I figured some sweets will help the medicine go down easier!"

"That's very thoughtful of you Ye Suhua!" Said Aeria with a smile. "Thank you!"

"Anytime! Let me and Lauren know if you need anything else!"

"We will!" Aeria gestured to her sister Atepa. She got up to help in taking the trays.

"By the way send my well wishes to the patients!" said Lauren.

"We will!" promised Aeria.

With that the two siblings began to distribute the bowls while Ye Suhua closed the door. Each person gratefully took a bowl and spoon. Once everyone had a portion the group began to eat.

"I've tried hospital food at different times and places but I must admit..." said Ollie. "...this is the best chicken soup I've had so far!"

"I agree with you, Ollie!" added Narmer. "It can compete with the one my family's cook prepares!"

"You'd have to thank Drew for that!" said Atepa. "He's the one who oversaw how the cooks prepared the hospital food and taught them the recipes!"

Narmer looked with surprise to the Union Ops Chief. "Do tell?"

"I figured it would be easier for the patients to digest the necessary nutrients to get better if the food was more palpable!" explained Drew. "They probably feel bad enough as it is being in a hospital. The least the Union could do is make the food given to them not taste as worse as the medicine!"

Ollie smiled. "Considerate as always!"

"Was he like this back in the days?" asked Elliot.

"Indeed! He always made sure everyone felt comfortable and safe!" Ollie's smile turned wistful. "I won't lie. I still do miss the food you used to prepare when I was ill."

"Perhaps when we get better, Master Ollie ..." spoke Drew, his ears drooping in trepidation. "I could prepare some of the food I used to during those times."

"Only if those present get to try it!" said Ollie.

"They will! And thank you!"

Ollie nodded. The group finished their meal in silence before moving to the macarons.

"Whoa! These are awesome!"

"Agreed sis!"

"I've tried macarons before but these absolutely rock!"

"I agree, Vin!" concurred Gulla. "Where did she get these from?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" added Inna

"Krammer." explained Narmer. "The best bakery in the whole of Gyrate!"

"How do you know, Narmer?"

"I recognise the style and the taste! My mother would get me these whenever I was under the weather. Their cakes are just as good!"

Ollie sampled one. "You're right! The taste is definitely Krammer!"

Drew sniffed one and took a bite. He nodded in agreement. Falken cautiously sampled one. His eyebrows shot up.

"They're surprisingly pleasant! I expected them to be a lot more sweeter!" said the Union Commander.

Elliot covered up his smile. Falken raised an eyebrow at him. "You remind me of the first time I tried them at Ye Suhua's prompting. I was just as surprised!"

"You've tried them before?"

"Several times actually! She doesn't mind sharing her afternoon tea snack with me."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"She told me that one appreciates them better if they don't know what to expect."

Vin smiled. "Good point!"

"Indeed!" added Falken. "I can certainly see why they are her favourite food!"

The others nodded. Falken pulled out a paper tissues and discreetly blew his nose throwing the tissues in the bin in front of his bed before continuing to snack on the treats the others nit far behind.

Narmer yawned. "I'm feeling drowsy all of a sudden.."

Ollie covered his mouth. "Same here."

The girls looked to one another and smiled. Falken saw them.

"The medicine you gave us....It has sedative properties."

"Have I mentioned that you have the eyes and nimble mind of a falcon, Falken?" asked Inna.

"You have though the bit about the nimble mind is new..."

"We gave you such medicine on purpose. You guys need to sleep especially after the mission," explained Aeria.

"Besides it's not like you have any work to do at the moment!" Added Atepa.

"Touche!" said Ollie suppressing another yawn.

"Will you be leaving us to rest them?" Asked Drew. He stretched, covering his mouth before removing his monocle.

"Nope!" replied Atepa. "Settle in! We'll continue to heal you!"

Drew cocked an eyebrow but complied. The rest followed his example. Inna was the first to demonstrate what they meant. With a flick she turned into a fluffy black cat and climbed on the bed. Mindful of her claws she climbed up onto Falken's head and settled into a ball, purring loudly. He understood and careful as to not disturb her, settled under the covers. Vin was the next, shape shifting into a hummingbird and landing on Elliot's shoulder. He followed Falken's example and settled in as carefully as possible. Aeria followed suit, turning into a snake and wrapping herself around Ollie's head. He thanked her and tucked himself in careful not to hurt her. Atepa turned into a black pony. Drew smiled and settled in, letting her place her head on his chest.

Gulla was the last, shifting into a black dog and climbing on the bed. Narmer settled in placing his helmet and mask in the bedside table and getting under the covers. She laid her head on his chest, one of his hands coming to rest atop. Each of the group closed their eyes...

"Achoo!" "Meow?!" *THUMP*

The group snapped their eyes open in confusion. Falken looked sheepishly to the bin. Inna poked her head, a used tissue ball behind one ear.

"Sorry...!"

"No worries!"

The tissue ball fell to the floor...

Vin laughed out loud to the point she tumbled off Elliot's shoulder.

"So much for cats always landing on their feet, eh Inna?"

Inna looked to her friend... And also laughed.

"Indeed!"

One by one the others joined in the laughter. They kept laughing for a while throwing even more jokes into the mix. Many passing their room wondered what was so funny... Except for Clara and Heng Yue who only smiled and high-fived one another before proceeding.

[retreiverrey]

Megatron and Starscream read Sparklecare Hospital (2016), how I believe it would play out:

"Oh my poor master! It pains me to see you so weak and wounded! I must say, it rather reminds me of the online Webcomic known as 'Sparklecare Hospial' written by Kittycorn aka Kneeby (2016), my lord..."

"Spare me you gaseous sycopha- Wait.... What in the All-Spark is a 'Sparklecare...' Is it another relic the Autobots plan on using against me!?"

"Soundwave reporting, Lord Megatron. I must inform you that I know of this 'Sparklecare Hospital (2016.)' and no, it is not a relic of any kind. As Starscream stated, it is an online Webcomic, hosted on the human's 'internet' networking system, created and written by the name of 'Kneeby,' also known as 'Kittycorn.'

"Well then, Starscream. It seems for once that your inanity has caught my attention... Please inform me more of this... 'Sparklecare' nonsense..."

"Alrighty, master. You can read it at Sparklecare.com, my lord. Let us give it a look, shall we?"

"AUGH, Starscream!!!"

"These colors are so bright and vibrant, my optics and processor are not capable of recording this!"

"I apologize for not giving warning before hand... But, that is the best part!!! Now then, this story follows the adventures of the protagonist known as 'Barry Erry Ill.' He is named this because all character's names are puns based off of special traits/features they possess! Barry's pun is based on the fact he, like some human's anatomy presents, possesses a poor 'immune system,' therefore is prone to catching common earthly diseases, being a common source of worry and paranoia for him. When his first medical caretaker rejects his pleads, he is then designated a place called 'Sparklecare Hospital,' a rainbow hospital disguised as an enjoyable and trustworthy place, but in a reality is an operation to torture and even kill its imprisoned patients. So now Barry and the patients he makes allies with attempt to escape the building with their lives and expose the hospital to the world around them!"

"Ah... Interesting. Very intriguing I must say. It reminds me of Shockwave's occupation back on Cybertron during the war."

"This however makes me question the motives of this 'Hospital of Sparklecare...' Are the patients tortured and/or terminated to gather information? Is it for punishment? Are the patients secretly part of an enemy faction against the hospital? This was the purpose behind Shockwave's practices, at least."

"Well you see, my lord.... the hospital is owned by the pink one, Cuddles. His motives and reasoning is mostly unknown. But for the most part, it is mostly for no reason. No reason that isn't earthly material gains, much like a lot of the inhabitance on this pathetic planet. In addition to his weak reasoning, he is rather weak himself, not possessing any power or strength, much less over his victims unknowingly. He has also shown to be rather foolish and rash, making him unintelligent. A lot of this could possibly be said about you..."

"What was that, bitch??"

"NOTHING."

"Well then... By reading this comic, I've come to the conclusion that this 'Cuddles' is a fool. No motives or reasoning other than worthless material gains, ultimately being pointless. He possesses little to no intelligence or charisma, and can't even take care of his own little murder faction properly, much less manage and tend to it either. Just by LOOKING at him I want to crush and overthrow him violently. This is treatment I wouldn't even give the Autobots. Disgusting!"

"Ditto, my lord. You, I, and the entire Sparklecare fanbase as well..."

"But this one... The purple one. I am interested greatly in his deal."

"Ah, yes! Cornelius! One of Barry's supposed "friends." As you can see from his physical appearance and from his allotpun name, 'Uni Cornelius,' you can see that he is part unicorn."

"Unicron!?? The legendary Chaos Bringer!?"

"No. A uni-corn. One of the fictitious earth creatures conceptualized by humans for infantry play-tales. He seemingly lacks eyes, his eyes being hollowed out sockets, but has given himself his own eyes by using his magical unicorn powers."

"Hm, interesting... Y'know, I almost had my optics blown out when Prime BLASTED MY FACE IN. Something you DIDN'T contribute to either!"

"Mmmmmm...... ...anyways.... It is commonly teased both throughout the comic and by the creator that Barry and Uni will be engaging in a romantic/intimate relationship. It is even flat-out confirmed by the creator as well, much to the joy of the fanbase unanimously."

"Hm, yes. Through reading this have I noticed and concluded that as well."

"So you are telling me that these two happen to display humanity's tendency of 'homosexuality?'"

"Why yes, master! It is true."

"Ah... I like that. I like that a lot. I am very fond of that, I must say."

"You, I, and the entire Sparklecare fandom once more, my lord! I must say it is a rather magnificent 'ship' if I do say so."

"There is another character I take great interest in I admit."

"Who may that be, master?"

"The multi-limbed rat creature. I would say I find him very entertaining, possibly even relatable as well. Especially since they are forced to work with a bunch of insubordinate MORONS!!! Much like I am... Plus, he even has a cool cloak like I do. Perhaps I would even go to the lengths of saying I... What was the words the humans use on their networking system? 'Kinning' I think it was? Well I would admit that perhaps I 'kin' him..."

"He's also uneededly edgy and anti-social like you are as well."

"What was that!?"

"NOTHING, MY LORD!!"

"I happen to have a favorite character as well..."

"This one I take great interest in too!! I would say I find them rather entertaining as well, and wish they would have more to do in the comic in the future. Perhaps I find them 'relatable' as well..."

"They are also a coward who doesn't know when to keep their mouth shut even for their own good, exactly like you are."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a bitch..."

"WHAT WAS THAT!?

"NOTHING, MY LORD!"

"Ah, Starscream... I thank you greatly for informing me of this 'Sparklecare Hospital (2016) by Kittycorn aka Kneeby...' Such a exquisite experience for something crafted from earth culture."

"I am glad you enjoyed very much so, Lord Megatron!"

"Megatron!!!! I've come to kick your ass!!!"

"Aaahhh, Prime... Have you ever heard of a thing known as 'Sparklecare Hospital (2016)?'"

"No, I have not. Do you mind informing me?"

"Well then allow me to explain.... You see, it starts with a character known as 'Berry Ill...'"

"Hey bros, have you guys ever got the suspicious feeling of giant robot guys from space watching over us and discussing how much they like us?"

"Naaahhh... That's weird. And I've felt a lot of weird things before..."

(I want to thank the entire hilarious inside-joke this spawns from and the odd amount of time/effort to write this, thank you for reading.)

[lord-squiggletits]

hey!

Since you asked for asks!

How is In the cradle of your craters going?

Hiya!

I regret to report that I literally haven't written a single word of ITCOYC since I posted the last update u.u It just hasn't really grabbed me since then. I've talked about it with quetzal of course but nothing has really coalesced into a chapter idea yet.

Oh and also, future chapters of ITCOYC are going to feature Gravesteel because I committed fandom cringe and made my OC an important part of the plot. Be cringe be free I guess :'3

Also, if you're interested in the vague outline I have, this is basically what happens: (Spoilers for Pay Unto Evil 12)

Megatron enrolls in medical school, but one of the classes is a Medical Ethics course and who else is enrolled in it but Gravesteel? After the whole debacle with Gravesteel keeping Megatron's suicide plans to herself until it was almost too late, Ratchet decided that Gravesteel needs a firm reminder of medical ethics. AND THEN he makes Gravesteel partner up with Megatron all the time so that she can learn to stop being so meek and learn to be more confident telling people things they don't want to hear/that she's afraid of saying. Luckily, Megatron also wants to stop being worshipped/seen as awe-inspiring, so it works out.

I still need to come up with something for Orion though, and it makes me sad because Megatron's ITCOYC plot/character conflict is so much more detailed and compelling while Orion is literally Just There and I can't think of anything for him to do.

[deeisace]

Thinking Bellamy thoughts today huh

It's going to be very difficult writing more using no pronouns for Bellamy, but it'll be interesting to try and get phrases right

I can't stand first person things so that's not a solution, neither's second, I'll just have to do some thought-rotating, actual work for once

I don't really have a great completed story that just needs writing - I've got several characters, a beginning, but no solution

I spose there needn't be a solution to everything, really - I've learnt that from my grandma, if nothing else, she never seems to have written a clear ending in all her 93 years - but there ought to be some sort of wrapping up, an ending of a kind even if no clear conclusion

Maybe it'll come as I think on it, or actually write, that'd be a fine rare thing - I can't remember the last time I did any writing of my own but I'm certain it's over a year ago now

Anyway basically

What I have got, is,

Bellamy is a secretary/general hand - I can't think of a word, but 'hand', as like stagehand, farmhand, cs 'nurse' or the like don't fit - anyway - live-in to this doctor out in Aigburth, one'v them fancy houses round sevvy park, that's split to doctors surgery and quarters - again, what's the word - residence, that'll do

Anyway, Bellamy is the "young girl" reported who found the fella hanging off the iron bridge - that's a real case, I forget the exact year but 1890s I believe - in the real paper article there's nothing on the young girl, so I've rather taken over

Everyone's a hundred years dead, I doubt they mind - tho depending on their disposition, I suppose, cs there's a great deal more queerness in my Victorian Liverpool than has survived to be known nowdays

So, Bellamy finds the fella, slips and falls on a rock in shock, suffers a head wound, and is taken to the doctor off the park - and through health-monitoring visits (the head wound caused persistent balance/vertigo issues, which malady I did look up and have since forgotten the name of) gained that sorta secretary etc place with him - helping with appointments that need two people working, since the doctor's previous assistant

Assistant! There's the fuckin word!

Anyway the previous guy left to set up his own practice, and to marry the secretary, so Bellamy's left to do both jobs, in effect - but it's a job, no, and far far better that than the matchworks or something

Did Liverpool have a matchworks in the 1890s?

Nope, no, no sidetracking (there was one in Speke, but it only opened in the 1920s and - nope, stop it)

Anyway,

Eventually, gets to be Bellamy's friend and sort of on-again-off-again lover - I haven't decided the exactitudes of the relationship, and don't fully think it matters at all - Charlie, she calls Bellamy over one night, to help with her friend Soph who's got hisself in trouble rather, being beaten up on her way home and finding their way to Charlie's in a sorry state - stays at least until she's back on his feet, taking as much of Bellamy's medical advice as is possible for them around work an such

Comes to light, somehow, that Sophie was attacked as he was leaving The Blue Dunn - a queer bar of the time, a pub ran out of someone's house, originally, on a rather seedy street that does exist - up further past London Road, what's it called, it doesn't really exist much now with all the buildings changed about some - Bay Horse Lane! There, I have a memory for some things

I'm calling it The Bluey cs of Scousers' habit of shortening everything to one syllable with -y on the end, and that it rather comes natural tbh - as like Sevvy Park for Sefton Park, or Kenny for the area Kensington - I can't think of any more examples off the top of my head, but I'm sure it's a thing

Anyway, turns out somehow, I've not ironed any of this out, but Sophie's attack were done on account of to cover up, sorta, another attack, on someone else as frequents The Blue, something about secrets known and kept, and somebody rich needing them kept secret and not known, or else. I think this other fella worked at the exchange - big square up by moorfields ish, just a courtyard now but once used as a trading floor we'd say now I think - I'm not a finance guy, idk, but murders are to do with lust money or anger, aren't they, something like that, why not have Benny's be all three, and only discovered in truth because of the cover-up - not that the police give a toss, Bellamy's just found it unable to leave alone, no matter the danger of investigating that sort of crime properly, in 1896 or so, especially on your own - with an occasional assist from a network rather centered round the bluey

The cast of characters mostly contains as I've said above, but there's Alice the maid, Sid the cabby, Frank who tends bar at the bluey, Henry is another friend of Bellamy and Charlie's - I'm not sure there was a great deal more to the story as I've got it so far, tho I will be honest I have written an evening (shall we say) between Charlie and Bellamy and since lost the notebook - tho I'm pretty sure I typed up the morning after somewhere here to read, I'll see about finding that if not the other

[whitefromthebeginning]

On May 31st, 2024, CIGNA Insurance supervisor Juan Aguire who admitted he's also a Crazy Rider that generates millions of dollars a month operating a brothel that I've been petitioning to close exploiting light skinned children at 2010 N. Los Robles retaliated against me on June 3rd, 2024 by embezzling money from my CiTi Bank checking account but within minutes I was notified by Jean who investigates fraud against CiTi Bank customers that there were six withdrawals from my account through a money transfer company I'd never heard of in the past hour and she got my money back the next day. If I was still banking with Chase like I was in Chicago in 2012 that gave a credit card with my name on it to the career criminal Jesus Gomez to steal my identity and receive down payments from many companies including Ferrari to use my letter designs for their corporate logos or with Wells Fargo like I did in Pasadena, California that in 2020 turned $35-Million dollars sent to me by Terrapin Tribespeople that I have been Chief to since February 1st, 1999 over to the WOKE Judge Carlos E. Vasquez who fraudulently claimed I was subject to civil asset forfeiture because I was a flight risk with pending charges of espionage and treason he just made up and who later gave me sciatica when I was lying with permission on private property by kicking my ass with steel toe boots in front of witnesses and while being recorded by the Laemmle Theater because with my Rh-Negative Blood he knew he could get away with it. ChiefHuntingBear considers PayPal the only legitimate money transfer service because it routinely reimburses victims of fraud who report what happened within 180 days and is absolutely required to conduct business on Ebay because sellers don't want to wait for credit card payments. I have nothing against Bank of America that cashed an out-of-state check immediately for $100.00 written to me by a New York physician in California attending a convention who I went to Harvard Medical School with after I lost my California State I.D. and could only prove who I was by having my thumb print scanned . Don't use Zelle unless you want to be ripped off.

[truffleandspice]

Venting! About Lab.

Oh my god. Lord KNOWS I am SO, SO SICK AND TIRED of meeting shitty, sexist people in the scientific field. Granted, things were worse in the past--more sexual assault, public (and private) humiliation, sexual and other harassment, bullying, threats, etc. compared to today (at least, one would hope...). But for some reason, I cannot escape bad people in science, specifically in my lab environments.

We have a "postdoc" who is not really a postdoc. He never finished his PhD--he finished his projects, but he neither finished writing his thesis nor did he defend it. He's in some in-between state of lab manager, lab tech, and postdoc. Strictly speaking, his highest educational degree is still his college degree. Also...I'm pretty sure he has a strong case of what, some time ago, would have been called Asperger syndrome, but this term is not as popular with the medical community nowadays due to its history and associations. Nowadays, we would call it an autism spectrum disorder.

You can tell very quickly upon meeting this guy that he's on the spectrum, but what gets me is the mild undercurrent of sexism combined with his continued negativity towards me in both scientific and casual domains.

Regarding the sexism, it'll be random comments which have nothing to do with the experiment or conversation, but just a dig. For example, he has shown us that nail polish is good to use to mark different types of electronic devices for our experiments. He was showing me where he was marking a device when, unrelated to the task, he said "yeah, you ladies who use nail polish each day". I showed him my natural, un-polished nails and said that I wasn't wearing nail polish and that I don't use it each day.

That's the one comment he's said outright that I can recall, although there's a prolific and tonally-weird use of the term "ladies" (the only students in the lab are me, a female, and another female).

But the other stuff that ties into this sexism is how negative he was towards me in the lab...he is so incredibly condescending it's insane. I've experienced horrible treatment (well, abuse) at home and in various labs (yeah, stuff that when I talked about it, it was reported to the institution), and this time I have a wonderful, trustworthy PI. But I don't want to take small things to him. I've learned to try and tiptoe around peoples' bad moods and poor attitudes, esp. if it doesn't interfere with my work. And lately, I've had the gumption to address behavior that crosses what I believe is a reasonable line, and so far my PI agrees with where I've placed this line. But there are some small things you just get so angry about, you just need to write and vent without getting anyone involved. That's how I felt about today.

Overall, I had a pretty solid day. I was able to demonstrate my knowledge and ideas for a novel experiment I'm really interested in during a meeting with collaborators, and the collaborator whose work intertwines with mine seemed legitimately very impressed with my knowledge, summarization of a recent and important paper, and take on the data. My PI is very consistently noting that he really likes and is interested in my project and is genuinely happy and satisfied with everything I've written so far. He even suggested that the work I'm interested in doing is important to the field and will greatly expand it (fingers crossed, I truly wish this would happen...especially with how disappointing all my [extreme] hard work in the past at the direction of abusive/misguided people has been {college specifically, that PI hasn't published in years}).

But before I could get to that idea, this guy was SO negative. I probably suggested about 40 experiments and he downed all of them. Never provided a paper to help me, despite the fact that other lab members at the time (including the PI) all gave me papers, discussed ideas in a constructive fashion, and demonstrated genuine interest in helping (I even have written evidence of this for all of those lab members).

Oh, and he completely dug into me one day, a few months back, in another hint-of-sexism manner. He claimed that I used the phrase "you know" at the end of a sentence at least 30 times...but I hadn't spoken even close to 30 sentences. And he went on a long monologue about how it made clear that I didn't know anything and was hiding it (the other grad student vehemently disagreed and was shocked by the situation...she defended me and my knowledge quite a bit, but he basically ignored her and continued digging), and brought a book and started asking me about minutiae/random facts that, according to the older grad student, were not even relevant to our field. He even admitted that if I didn't know about a certain model he named, then the lab had made a mistake in their training of me, and I had never heard of the model before (turns out I knew it but didn't know it was called a certain name). I said as much and he, of course, ignored that and continued to try and prove his point that I knew nothing. He also brought up my absences that week (which had been cleared by the lab members just before this conversation, and he mentioned to me multiple times that the lab didn't need to know when I was coming, going, or absent, because I was a grad student and an adult...) and was insinuating that I wasn't coming to lab enough.

Obviously, I took all of this to the PI, who apparently roasted him for it because he ate his words in a later conversation (which was iconic bc a member of his previous lab was visiting and as soon as he saw the "postdoc", asked him whether he defended his thesis yet). But it shouldn't have happened in the first place...and is an ongoing pattern of unproductive humiliation I've experienced by, consistently, sexist men and women (other incidents strongly highlighted their sexism) from high school through now. It just never ends. And finally I have a PI who has my back, but that's not gonna stop this fucker from finding other ways, literally any way he can, to be condescending.

This brings me to today. Our PI's father died recently, so the older grad student had the kind idea of giving him a framed picture of his father and some chocolates (our PI loves sweets but insists we eat sweets instead of him...she wanted him to have something for himself). I printed out the picture (as requested by the "postdoc", since I had previously mentioned I had photo paper and a printer) and bought the chocolates (fancy hand-painted alcohol-infused chocolates I got for a decent deal and were certainly an excellent gift). They got a frame from Target or HomeGoods, and certainly spent far less money than I did, but this was for our PI and I really didn't care at the time. But the "postdoc" immediately commented that the chocolates looked like lipsticks (they don't and were marketed as a masculine gift...), and I had to neutrally defend that. Well, when we went to give our PI the gift, he claimed he didn't want to make any speech or say anything, but as soon as our PI saw the chocolates (he loved them), the "postdoc" said that they were lipsticks. Okay...whatever. Our PI was nearly tearing up at the gifts and kept thanking us, and I had never seen him so emotional. Overall, it was a job well done, and my annoyance at the lipstick comment was only very mild at the time...it didn't stay on my mind too much throughout the rest of the day.

Oh, and small other note about the gift before moving on. I actually ordered a couple different beautiful frames when we first discussed getting a gift for our PI, and mentioned that "I ordered frames" to the "postdoc" when we had this discussion. Then, I mentioned that they were a great price and looked very nice (not in a self-righteous way, but as a quiet follow-up). And he immediately said "okay that's not relevant". Coming from the guy who cannot stop fucking talking once he starts and says the most uninteresting shit imaginable. And if you mention your own interests in a conversation, he immediately walks away, or negs them. E.g. I mentioned a list of restaurants I was interested in going to during a conference, and he said "you know we're not here to eat, we're here for the conference". That made me snap in a very professional manner (bc this is the kind of bs I used to hear at home) and I pretty sharply said that mealtimes are separate from conference times and a necessity, so if someone wants to eat something specific during those times, it's within their rights and not interfering with the conference. He shut up after that.

Well, before I left, I wondered whether I could get a ring light for my desk. I had a Zoom meeting late in the afternoon and you could barely see my face. The last time I needed to order something, the "postdoc" did the order, so I was under the impression that I needed to ask him about the order. He first asked (very condescendingly, but this was my fault) if the overhead lights were on in the room (they were, but my fault he asked bc I said that the only extra light coming in was through the window, without mentioning directly the overhead lights). Then he started looking but said a few times "I'm not going to say how I feel about this". He did this before when I had a powerpoint of potential experiments and asked for his feedback and claimed it looked like something someone from college would do (I...I am just starting my PhD? What else do you expect?). Anyway he sent me a link but was overall just so, so condescending during that interaction and I am SO sick of him. SO FUCKING SICK OF HIS FUCKING ASININE BULLSHIT. He's just such a horrible person and he's not even the worst person I've met in science or in my life, but just plain horrible. He's like some sort of sticky adhesive which just gets everywhere and clings onto everything it possibly can, causing problems for absolutely no valid reason aside from that being his nature. I wish he would get what he deserves for this immature, problematic, and lab-environment-wise destructive behavior.

Oh, and he hates our PI and literally yelled at him in front of all of us once :) Over an issue where it was not necessary at all :) Yeah, fuck this guy.