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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

Stubborn

Everybody taking care of old Hotch because... I don't like it when old Hotch gets left to just die on his own :( don't ask why that's where I draw the line

No pairings

No warnings

In Jack’s second semester of his junior year, Hotch collapses again. He’s home this time, out in his garden under the glaring sun. The day had begun no different than any other. The birds on the powerline chirping and causing their disturbances, as eager for the day to begin as the school-aged children shouting in the street. He’d watched them from the sliding glass door facing the street, his tea warm in his hands. He’d waved at a few, the older ones who recognize him as a mystifying adult with stories to be unlocked. The younger children give him a face akin to a monster’s, his mystery horrifying in their already confusing enough lives.

It’s an hour before lunch. Two hours before Spencer shows up because it’s Thursday and he teaches a class on this side of town every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. One that he occasionally asks Hotch to attend -- as a guest lecturer, as a treat to his students, or just for the company.

He could call just about anyone.

Emily’s downtown, on her way back from a meeting with the Department of Justice. She’d be thrilled for an excuse to not go back to the office and spend an hour or two in his kitchen telling him about those pretentious assholes.

Garcia’s about ten minutes away, working at a nonprofit teaching “at-risk” kids how to code. Being the guiding hand she’d needed as a teenager so that they might not repeat the same mistakes she made. She was lucky, Hotch saved her but he’s not around to catch any more kids like her.

Morgan got hired by a family two streets over to fix up their house before they move in. He’s there now, tearing out rotting beams.

This collapse is not of the life-threatening kind. Not to Hotch at least. There’s no internal bleeding, no emergency surgeries. He doesn’t even need stitches but he’s on so many medications that thin his blood that it’s just on the safer side. From the hospital, he calls who he needs to. Reid first, he’ll worry when he gets to Hotch’s house and sees his truck gone. Then, Jack, it’s better to hear this sort of thing from him and not Emily in half an hour when she needs to yell at someone and who better than the son of the idiot she hates right now? Dave and Emily follow and he trusts them to carry the news the rest of the way. Rather, he simply doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and he’d rather Garcia and JJ and Morgan and everyone else just be mad at him than go on to have another conversation about how he’s feeling.

Fine. He just got light-headed. It was the heat and his perpetually low iron and probably his thin blood (the killer had been his blood pressure but they’re working on that). He just needs to get better about remembering to eat breakfast -- a larger breakfast than just tea and toast. Fainting, he assures Dave, happens. Jack’s seen it happen. The heat makes it worse, the summertime drains him. He’s come in from the garden and gotten weak in the knees plenty of times. He actually moved some chairs around the sliding glass door to the yard, prepared for this exact problem.

This over clarification does not help.

Made only the more complicated when he explains his head is fine. The fainting thing really isn’t a big deal, he just needs a ride home. He’d landed weirdly and pulled his back. He left with a new problem entirely, a torn ligament in his shoulder. That is a problem for a different day.

The surgery is set for the week just before Jack’s finals. Armed with a suitcase full of textbooks, his laptop, notes from this semester (and a few from last), and just enough clothes to recycle a few and still be fine, Jack shows up on his father’s doorstep. “I mean, the hospital isn’t exactly the library… but it’s not the worst place I’ve studied.” It’s far too late to send Jack back but Hotch is reluctant to let him stay. Even if he does prefer Jack be his ride rather than the likes of Penelope and that tiny green eye-sore of a car she drives or leave him to Reid and his defensive, jerky driving.

To the sound of “Aaron Hotchner November 2, 1971”, Jack settles down with his books. He tries to put himself in the right headspace for studying but it’s harder than he anticipated. The constant motion of the room unsettles him and he looks up several times to see his father’s reaction. To gauge the anxiety in his face, in the deep breathes that he pulls in through his nose. In how tight his fists are holding the sheets underneath him. It’s a simple surgery and they’ll be out of here in no time.

“Young” his heart had not handled the heavy sedatives and morphine well. Then again, those incidents are always hard to measure against a thing like this. Rushed into the ER with nine chest wounds and having nearly bled to death, it’s natural to conclude the stress of his depleted blood supply and his very recent trauma had caused his heart to stop on the table. That said trauma was the reason his heart had maintained to be a steady problem up until they released him. Again, when he was brought in with some of the worst internal bleedings the staff had ever seen. His heart had given them trouble too.

Jack is staring blankly at his flashcards when the doctor comes out.

Hotch had gone to Georgetown to be a lawyer like his father and his grandfather. Jack went to Georgetown to get an Art History degree. He was lead by something else. Not chasing some shadow, clutching at a lie he spoonfed himself. Jack didn’t live in anyone’s shadow, never felt the pressure to look and act a certain way. Was never beaten into submission or told to hold his tongue. Jack went to museums every Saturday with his father, preferred them to the aquariums and the zoo. Hotch held him close to the artwork, pushed his dense schedule around to go to new shows, and learned the names of pieces just to recite the knowledge back to Jack.

In his lap, Jack is memorizing pieces of art like his father had years ago for him. He’s stuck on The Anatomy Lesson, eyes glued to the details. The way colorless skin is held in forceps, peeled back to reveal angry red. He can feel the pinching teeth on his own skin, feels the heavy flow of hot blood spilling down over his arm.

“Hotchner?”

Jack flinches, caught completely off guard. He stands, flushing as he tucks his notecards into his textbook, and stands. “Ugh, yeah. That’s me.” He wipes his hands off on his pants, rubbing away the nervous sweat he’s built up.

The doctor recognizes him from earlier. He’d watched Jack and Hotch get out one last goodbye. Jack pulling up a nervous smile, dirty-blonde hair, and light eyes a complete contrast to Hotch’s ever-darkening features. Somehow more solemn, voice taken by the sedatives already working through his body. He hadn’t said a word, eyes vacantly following Jack’s movements but unaware.

Jack expects the same monologue he hears every time. The one that comes out so dry and perfect that they must practice it in front of the mirror, say it softly to themselves as they as they get ready each morning. He’s got it memorized himself -- the bits about recovering in post-op, make a full recovery, and whatever on the fly timeline they give for access back to the room.

“But he’s-- He’s okay? He’s--”

Jack feels impossibly childish. Five years old and Emily’s chilled fingers brushing his tears away, “baby, I know you miss your mommy. But you’re being so terribly mean to your daddy.” He had been, a terrible little monster squirming away from his father and refusing to eat anything. Throwing tantrums about nothing and everything. Screaming and crawling under his bed every chance he got. Pushing himself to the wall knowing he couldn’t be reached.

Now he can remember Hotch just sitting at the edge of the bed. There on the floor for hours. Sometimes he read, would pick up a book, and just start from wherever just to make it so his voice was reaching where he couldn’t. He slept there too, on the hard ground just to make sure Jack knew he was there. Slipped strawberry pop tarts on crazily designed animal plated under there, offered bites of his own food to the darkness under the bed. Sippy cups full of chocolate milk and juice.

He feels like a little boy again, getting news that he has no idea how to handle.

“He’s okay?” Jack stammers. “He’s going to be okay? I can see him?”

Hotch remembers those days under the bed too. Waking up in the middle of the night as Jack groggily curled close to him, still under the bed but crawling under his blanket. The ends of those awful sobs, Jack’s little chest jerking as he hiccuped. The force of his sorrow was too much for his little body. And Jack would fall into his lap, exhausted and needing comfort. His little fingers tracing the scars on Hotch’s face. How he whispered “thank you” and “please” from underneath the bed and how he’d pop his head out to say, “Daddy, I’m going to potty. I’ll be right back.”

Jack’s legally old enough to drink now and Hotch still sees that little boy. The three-year-old wiping his snot on Hotch’s dress shirt. The six-year-old holding his hand and reminding him to look both ways twice before crossing the street. The eight-year-old he left the hallway light on for, old enough now to think he needed to brave the night without a nightlight. So Hotch would offer to keep the hallway light on, not for Jack but for him because he doesn’t like the dark. The ten-year-old sheepishly offering him a father’s day gift he bought with saved allowance, a t-shirt he’s now worn the words off of. The fifteen-year-old curling up beside him on the couch, seeking his comfort but not sure how to ask anymore. The eighteen-year-old as tall as him talking his ear off while he tries to get dinner ready, sticking his fingers in the pan and sitting on the counter.

How did he grow up so fast?

He’s not a little boy anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

The creaking of a chair moves Hotch’s attention and he looks away from Jack. Away from the sight of his little boy curled up on a cot, drooling onto a pillow and notebook still open, a pen dangling from his fingers. He looks over and Emily’s sitting up, her reading glasses precariously sat on the tip of her nose. “Oh look,” she mumbles. She stretches out, groaning as her joints complain from being held in this miserable hospital chair for hours. “You’ve decided to join the land of the living.”

Hotch watches her fold the thin black frames of her glasses up, gently sits them down by his hand as she stands up. Jack had called her, even though he promised he wouldn’t worry anyone. Hotch didn’t want anyone else coming to the hospital over something so small and though Jack protested that their concern wouldn’t be because he was bothering them but because they love him. The very same reason he’d come home is that people gather after these sorts of things. They need reassurance that he’s alive and he’s just going to have to accept that. They compromised in the end, everyone could come to smother him in worry after he got home from the surgery.

But Jack was scared. He called the only person he could think to, the woman whose role in his life that was never really clear. She’d gotten on him about his grades, smacked the back of his head when he said something stupid, and always let him taste-test her wine at Thanksgiving dinner. Emily knew things that not even Jessica knew and she could be sterner than both Hotch and Jessica and also more relaxed, more understanding. She was always there for both of them, in the same capacity as Jessica and yet her own unique one. A friend Hotch trusted and loved and Jack could understand that. His friends always wanted to know if they were dating and he knew intuitively that the answer was no but he would hesitate to try and explain. But he didn’t understand the gravity that pulled them together, adults and their relationships far too complex to fit it into his simple understanding of love.

He did understand she was the only person to call.

“What’d he do this time?” she asked and knew she was playing the wrong role for the wrong Hotchner because no sooner than she could ask she had an armful of Jack. She sat with Jack for hours, let him get his fear out. Held him while he sobbed, felt pulled to the past. When it was Aaron on her shoulder, terrified he’d lose his son. Life has this very odd way of bringing everything full circle.

“I bet you’re hurting.” Emily moves to the table and pours water into the little paper Dixie cup left by the nurses. “Been right dramatic this afternoon,” she informs him, a dissatisfied matter-of-fact tone in play. “I know you find that to be particularly taxing.” She holds the cup for him, gentle despite her annoyance. She’s close enough to see the iodine on his skin. Dark orange swipes across his pale skin, the smell burns with its strength.

He pulls greedily from the cup, mouth impossibly dry. Stopped only by how little she poured, he sinks back heavily into the pillows behind him. His shoulder hot and angry from forcing himself upright.

“They’re going to let you go in the morning,” she says, sitting back down. He won’t remember this in the morning. Emily holding his hand, whispering thickly how angry she is with him as tears fall down her face. How scared she was getting that phone call from Jack, racing down here to be a composed person to comfort his son thinking her best friend was in the morgue.

He’ll wake up with a pit in his stomach, residual feelings from the night before he can’t tie down to memories. Emily shows no inclination to repeat herself, just coldly informs him that she’ll have Penelope make him a cardiologist appointment (it’s unspoken that no one trusts him to do this himself). Jack walks on glass, close by but terrified of being pushed away. Hotch is too out of it to put up much of a fight, by the time the morning shift has their hands on him he’s silent. Properly dosed up for a ride home and out of his mind.

He’s groggily propped up on pillows, watching Jack and Emily fight over if he has the right to wear shoes or not. Emily wants to hold them captive, he won’t run off or refuse the wheelchair without them and Jack shakes his head, “he’s not our P.O.W, Emily. He’s even going to get that far if he does try to run.” He’s given his shoes but Emily makes a point to collect his cane, holds it while the nurse helps him into the wheelchair. He’s a flight-risk and she’s not going to trust him, he’s run off on her too many times for that.

At the house the other’s have gathered up, having nothing better to do evidently on a Wednesday at ten in the morning. Penelope’s frying eggs and bacon, the carnage it takes to feed their brood spread out on his kitchen counter. Reid sitting on the counter, Hank in his lap, and the two of them watching Penelope. Derek’s on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Savannah learning on his shoulder. Dave’s getting orange juice from the store declared them all lawless, and didn’t trust them to get the right kind.

Hotch is granted his cane to get back inside the house but Emily threatens to kick it out from underneath if he tries anything fast. He smacks her ankle and Jack has to actually step between them to keep them apart. It’s in times like these where Jack finds himself wondering how these two ever had any role in raising him at all.

“Don’t you have jobs?” Hotch asks, hooking his cane over the coat rack and toeing his shoes off. He ignores the hand Emily places on his arm, afraid he’ll knock himself over. He manages just fine, has the whole house set up so that every other step is within arms distance of something to lean on. Fingers trailing the back of the couch he limps past Derek, smiling when Savannah offers a soft “glad you’re okay”. She pats his hand and he nods back.

“Up for some food, sir?” Penelope asks and she’s not taking no for an answer. They might be having heaping servings of eggs and bacon and gravy and orange juice but she’s made two small bowls of oatmeal. She takes the medicine Jack tosses up on the counter, puts it at the end where the rest of his medication sits. “I cut up apples,” she tells Hotch with a wide grin, sliding the bowl in front of him. “Dashed a little cinnamon and sugar in there, it’ll stick to your bones. Keep you healthy.”

He’s at a healthy weight at the moment, not as thin as he leans to when he’s sick but with Hotch, it’s always a good thing to have some collateral weight for the “in case”. Lifting the spoon in his left hand he scoops some of the oatmeal up, doing his best to hide his annoyance at how weak his extremities still are. How his hand shakes under the light strain of the oatmeal. He looks up, watches Spencer carry Hank over to the highchair sitting at the table beside him. He’s distracted so Emily swoops in, takes his spoon from his hand, and tries his oatmeal. He lets her do it. He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. She likes it. He nods, it’s pretty good.

Hank immediately knocks his spoon on the ground and makes a low whining sound in the back of his throat. “Hop help,” he whines, pointing down at his spoon. His speech is still developing so he pronounces help and hop nearly identically but Hotch understands the difference. He just can’t bend over like that. His right arm is still pinned to his chest in an intricate web of gauze and this sling.

“Reid,” Hotch calls. His voice is deep, strained from intubation and anesthesia. It makes him sound sick. “He’s dropped his spoon.”

Reid nods, he already knows.

Hank points to his shoulder and frowns, “Hop fall down?”

Hotch nods, that is pretty much what happened and at the same time, Emily sweeps in and tickles Hank. She presses kisses to his face and making him laugh loudly. “That’s what happens,” she says. “Hops is just old.” Hank is too distracted by the ongoing attack to defend Hotch not that a toddler rising to his defense is very helpful.

Hotch sighs as Jack comes up behind him, stealing his spoon too. He takes a bite of the oatmeal and deems it nearly as good as the kind that Jessica makes. Hotch wants to be annoyed by it and yet all he does is nod and finds himself smirking just a little.

Penelope calls everyone in for breakfast and Hotch ignores the kisses pressed to his cheek as people drag chairs to the table around him. To the hands that slide over his back, assurance of life he remembers Jack calling it.

Derek slides him a mug of tea, made exactly how he likes it. He sits across from Hotch, close to Hank in case either needs assistance. Emily sits to his left, slides her coffee up beside his tea so he can have some if he’s quick about it. Jack sits beside her and the rest is a blur, too much motion at once for him to take in without his contacts or glasses. Penelope slides a tea plate to him, his medicine on it, and kisses his head while he’s still scowling at the plate.

They don’t leave him alone all day.

He ends up taking a nap with Hank, the toddler’s sticky little fingers holding onto his shirt as he finds himself unable to fight off the effects of the medicine and his full stomach.

He’s squished on the couch between Derek and Dave, forced to watch baseball because he can’t worm his way upright again just yet.

They change the dressings on his shoulder, his teeth clenched tightly so that he doesn’t let anything slip.

At midnight he wakes up on the couch. Jack’s bedroom door is shut, he’s sleeping peacefully inside. His heating blanket is pulled up to his chin, the heat turned up all the way. He can’t remember getting into this state himself but he has a fate memory of JJ helping him move his hand to his mouth, encouraging him to take the pain killers before bed. Of Derek making sure he didn’t just fall straight over onto his side. He manages to find Dave stretched out on the Lazyboy -- the chair he got Hotch for his fifty-something birthday. He’ll wake up in the morning to more food being made in his lonely kitchen, JJ this time. She’ll make blueberry waffles.

If he’d wanted attention, Emily will tease the next morning, he could have just asked. And he didn’t even know he wanted this. He never finds the words to ask for it to continue but every Saturday morning it happens anyway -- his kitchen and living room full of pajamas and suits in varying degrees depending on who has what to do that morning. The fainting thing is not cool but he considers this to be a good trade.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #savannah hayes #hank morgan #jack hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jareau

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andiandyandee · 4 years ago

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We Are Going to Be Friends Pt.11

I’m back!! Sorry this took so long, the baby (She’s 3, but she’s my baby, okay?) has been super sick for like a month so her mother and I have been at out wit’s end trying to make her feel better. Anyway. Here’s the first Chapter Here’s the most recent chapter Here’s the whole series on ao3

Tag List:

@datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

Here’s the Fic!

“Logan, I don’t know if getting a tattoo from some rando is a great idea.” Remus was hanging upside down from his bed, watching Logan work on his biology homework. Roman was sitting in a bean bag chair, working on his history homework.

“It’ll be fine, Rem. if it turns out bad I’ll just get it covered up when I’m 18.”

“What if it gets infected? And then because you won’t go to a hospital ever it’s gonna spread to your hand and arm and heart and they’re gonna have to amputate and then how are you going to become a doctor with only one arm or you’ll boil alive from the fever and we won’t-”

“Did you know dueling is legal in Paraguay as long as both parties are registered blood donors?” Logan remarked without looking up from his book. Remus looked baffled. Roman looked slightly annoyed.

“Why do you always do that? It’s rude to interrupt someone, you know.”

“Do what?” Logan glanced at Remus for some clarification, hoping he would understand Roman as his brother better than Logan did as his boyfriend. Remus shrugged.

“You do it all the time. Rem will be talking about something and then you just like, cut him off with some random fact.” Logan snorted at Roman’s now protective tone.

“It’s to pull him out of a panic spiral. When someone with OCD starts spiraling, like he just was, you can sometimes confuse them enough to keep them from freaking out. A distraction technique, essentially.” The twins both looked confused. They spoke at the same time,

“Remus doesn’t have OCD.”

“I don’t have OCD.” Logan gave them a confused smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I get the joke.”

“It’s not a joke. My diagnosis is just anxiety, It’s not OCD.”

“If you don’t have OCD I’ll eat my boot.” Logan gestured at Remus vaguely. “You literally display every single symptom, how has your therapist never tested you?”

“Picani didn’t diagnose me, he just kept my diagnosis from my old doctor. What do you mean by all the symptoms?”

“I mean- I could be wrong, but it seems obvious, right? You get stuck in cycles of being completely obsessed with a thought or potential event, you find something that makes you feel better, then you feel compelled to do it any time the thought arises.”

“I think everyone does that,” Remus mumbled.

“Where in your closet do your clothes go specifically?”

“Be more specific,” Remus asked, uneasily.

“100% cotton shirts, where do they go?”

“Uh, towards the back. I can’t see them when I open my closet but I know they won’t get eaten by moths because moths don’t eat cotton because it doesn’t have Keratin but I have to keep anything that moths might eat toward the front so I can check on it when I open the closet doors and-”

“And in what order do your books go on the shelf?”

“There isn’t a specific order, but the ones I’ve read the most I keep on the middle two shelves so they’re at eye level, while books I’ll never read but still keep or books I’ve read but didn’t like are at the bottom because I probably won’t see them unless I bend down, which I don’t do, and books I want to read but haven’t yet are on the top shelves because I feel better knowing that if I decide to read them all I have to do is reach for them.” Logan nodded.

“What do you do if you see what you believe is a carpet beetle? Walk me through your usual process.”

“Uh, I’d probably try to catch it, google carpet beetles, I have a bookmark for them actually, make sure that’s what it is. If I’m unsure I’ll google black beetles and make sure it’s not something else, check to see if I can find any more, if I can’t I’ll put the one outside then go shower and then I’ll clean the room I found it in, wash my hands and then I’ll double-check to see if any more have come out, then shower again.” Roman looked totally baffled.

“I mean, those seem a little extreme, but I don’t know if that’s OCD.”

“Remus, what’s your routine when you walk to your therapist's office?”

“What day? On Wednesday appointments I leave the school, come home, change into my boots, dad drops me off, I wait outside the office until 3:29, I walk in, Picani says “Remus! Right in time!” and we do our session. I leave, turn right, walk the long way to Starbucks, order my drink-” Logan raised his eyebrows at him as if this was making his point. Which it was.”Oh. Huh.”

“Have you mentioned this to your therapist?”

“No, I guess I never realized.” Remus was looking a little put-off. “Does it... bother you?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Logan waved a hand vaguely at him. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to talk to you.” He smirked. “Now, had I realized what I was getting myself into when I started dating Roman, maybe I would have made some better choices.” Roman laughed, throwing his pillow at Logan’s face. This action set off what was probably the most aggressive pillow fight known to date, and it only ended when Roman swung his arm around to catch a pillow hurling at Logan, only to miss and essentially punch him in the eye.

“Fuck! Ow, what the fuck,” Logan held his eye, looking at Roman in complete exasperation. “Roman I think you just broke my face.” Roman was stone-still, horrified, and Remus looked just as panicked, hands up as if to placate to the other teens if they turned to violence. “Woah, okay, why did it get so serious all of the sudden?”

“Logan I am so sor-”

“Wait, what? It was an accident, Ro. No big deal. How bad does it look?” When Logan moved his hand, Roman actually flinched back. “Damn, that bad? This is what I get for not wearing my glasses…” He looked in the mirror and snorted. “Oh, that’s gonna be gnarly later. L will kill you if I still have a black eye for prom, you know.” Logan glanced back at the twins who were still pale and nervous.

“Logan, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I promise I would never- I couldn’t…”

“Ro?” Logan had a soft smile on his face. “You’re an idiot.” Roman immediately snapped out of his panic to dramatically gasp.

“How dare you, peasant!” Logan snorted, coming back over and sitting down.

“I spend time in mosh pits. I think at this point every person I like had given me a black eye. Except for Remus, weirdly enough.”

The evening calmed down significantly once Remus brought Logan and ice-pack. They mostly just went back to homework, Remus occasionally anxiously bringing up Logan’s tattoo, which he was supposed to get the next day. It was mostly Logan with his back to Roman’s chest, only half awake, listening to Remus talk excitedly about sea urchins, which was apparently his new favorite sea creature. Getting the tattoo was fine, if uneventful. The ‘artist’ seemed a little weird, and possibly drunk, but Logan had never gotten a tattoo, so he assumed this wasn’t too far off from how they usually went. When he made it to the Sander’s house, a trash bag held on with electrical tape around his wrist, he was still grinning like a madman. Remus laughed at him and took a photo on his stupid polaroid camera that was completely ridiculous because they had cellphones with cameras, and when Logan took the bag off, Remus took a picture of that too, even though it was red and a little puffy and the lines didn’t look very good. Logan loved it, and both Remus and Roman couldn’t help but like something that made him so happy.

They both liked it a lot less a week later, when Logan showed up to their house pale and a little grey looking, arm tucked up towards his chest.

“I thought It was healing alright so I left it uncovered, the artist said it was normal for it to be a little red for a while so I didn’t question it. We went to a show, and to a party and it hurts and I don’t know why. ” Logan’s words were a little slurred, he was obviously a little out of it, so they guided him inside and sat him on the couch.

“Can we see, Lo?”

“It’s really gross, way worse than it was last night... I don’t think-” Remus pulled Logan’s arm away from his chest and Roman almost gagged. It was significantly worse than it had looked the last time they’d seen it only two nights ago, now yellow and swollen and bleeding again. “I don’t know why it got so infected... I was taking care of it..” From how close they were together, they could tell that Logan had a fever, and he was definitely sweating.

“Something must have gotten into it while you were out. You need antibiotics.”

“No doctors,” Logan grumbled, pressing his face into Roman’s shoulder. “Please.” They agreed, because it was hard to argue with Logan in general, but especially about doctors, but both brothers looked uneasy as they helped Logan clean the tattoo and re-wrap it.

#punk au #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sanders side fic #tattoos #injuries #ocd mention #therapy mention #Roman punches Logan #not on purpose #infection mention #ask to tag #ask to be tagged //

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thenovelartist · 5 years ago

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An Impromptu Proposal, 24-25

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24. Giving up

Hospitals were soul-sucking voids. True pits of despair. It held a weighty air of hopelessness, and the smell of antiseptics was a reminder of just how many illnesses were floating around the place. Adrien was thankful that the miraculous cure always fixed everything because he never wanted to end up here.

Marinette was clinging to his hand, pulling strength from him as well as giving him the strength to be here. He clung to her tighter, needing everything she so willingly gave him to be able to get through this visit.

He knew the way to Nathalie’s room all too well. No one could figure out her ailment despite every single person in this wretched hospital knowing she was growing worse. They’d told him before that the best they could do was make her comfortable as possible. It was one of the worst things Adrien could imagine being told. That his family member was suffering and the doctors, even with all their advanced medicine and medical practices of this day and age, couldn’t do anything.

When he opened the door to Nathalie’s room, he was greeted with the typical yet no less heartbreaking sight of an all too white room that housed Nathalie: a once strong woman who was now frail in a thin hospital bed. Tubes were everywhere, in her arms and connected to the air mask on her face. The soft beeping of a heart monitor was in the background, only adding to the eeriness of this place.

“Hey Nathalie,” Adrien softly greeted, immediately pulling the only chair in the room up to her bedside.

She grunted then glanced over at Marinette.

Oh yeah. I hadn’t told her. “Ah, yes.” Adrien reached out to grab Marinette’s hand again, pulling her to sit on his knees. She was small enough to fit, and unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a choice.

“Nathalie, meet Marinette. She’s a designer’s assistant at the company, but she’s a friend of Nino’s. You remember Nino, right?”

Nathalie gave a weak nod.

“So, Marinette and I have known each other a while, and when Nino and his girlfriend started pushing us together, we found we really fit. And recently… we just got married.”

Nathalie’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I know,” Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s surprising, but we fit together really well and I’m really happy with her.”

“It’s really nice meeting you, Nathalie,” Marinette said. “I wish it would have been under better circumstances.

Nathalie gave what looked to be a shrug before she reached up to grab her mask, pulling it away from her face. “On the table,” she said, pointing a shaky finger towards the table next to her bed. “A pin.”

Adrien glanced over at the bedside table, seeing a blue and gold pin laying on it. He reached over to grab it, looking over the oddly shaped pin.

“Needed… to tell you,” Nathalie said, her voice shockingly weak compared to the once strong and authoritative tone she carried. “That… that pin… I need you to give it… to Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

His gut positively dropped. No. “W-why?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

“Its… miraculous,” she said, before holding that air mask over her face for a moment. She took a deep breath before pulling it away. “Tell them… I’m sorry.”

No no no Adrien thought. No way. His mouth was dry, his tongue feeling like sandpaper. “You… were Mayura?”

The words almost couldn’t come out, yet he forced them. And a pang hurt his heart when he saw the guilt on Nathalie’s face. “I was,” she answered. “I… I only did it for Hawkmoth.”

“The original Hawkmoth,” Adrien clarified.

She nodded. “Your father.”

The words were so blunt, they almost went over Adrien’s head, yet they still hit Adrien in the chest, making it shockingly hard to breathe. “My father?”

Nathalie nodded. “Wanted… to bring your mother back.”

His world was going blurry around him, dark spots encroaching into his vision.

Marinette’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck, her fingers slowly stroking the hair at his nape. The gesture, something akin to what Ladybug would do for Chat to keep him calm, kept him still in reality when all Adrien wanted was to fade away.

“Adrien’s father was Hawkmoth to bring back his mother,” Marinette repeated, clearly seeking clarification. “And you were Mayura in order to help him.”

Nathalie nodded. “But… Lila Rossi… Backfired on us.”

Adrien couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she said, wheezing. “For everything.”

Numbly, Adrien reached out to guide the mask back over Nathalie’s face. “Take it easy, Nathalie,” he said. “You’ve spoken a lot. I don’t want you to have a coughing fit.”

Her next words were muffled, but Adrien could still hear them. I’m sorry.

After Adrien removed his hand from her mask, Nathalie pulled it off again. “Forgive me,” she said. “And forgive your fa—”

Just as Adrien knew she would, she broke into a heaving coughing fit.

“Nathalie!”

Her heartrate had skyrocketed as she heaved, gasping and clinging to her mask.

Nurses came rushing in, asking him to leave, and ultimately, it was Marinette who pulled him out of the room.

“Adrien,” Marinette called, clinging to his arm. “Adrien?”

He barely heard her, sparing her a glance before looking down at the peacock miraculous in his hand that Nathalie had given up.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, coaxing him out of the hospital and towards the car.

He barely registered the fact she slipped his keys out of his pocket so she could be the one to drive home. Probably for the better. Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off the miraculous in his hands most of the drive home.

...

25. Hawkmoth’s defeat

Nathalie was stable for now, but Adrien knew what the doctors meant by “it could be any day.” She’d looked paler than he had ever seen her, but it was her words more than her condition that had taken his whole world and tilted it on its axis.

She was Mayura, And his father had been Hawkmoth.

It was a lot to accept, and two days was hardly enough time.

When he’d gone home that night, Marinette had held him all night long as he cried, and then he called out sick that next day because he was in bad shape and he knew it.

But he couldn’t call out today. Today, Lila was meeting him in his office for a “lunch”, and he was hell-bent to get that miraculous off her no matter what it took. He didn’t care if that meant pinning her to the floor and taking if from her screaming.

He’d get that brooch, and he would end this.

His phone buzzed. He quickly checked it, only to see a message from his lady. You’ve got this. XOXO <3 You have all my ladybug luck, mon chaton.

He felt tension leave his body as he smiled at his phone. He was still anxious, but just knowing his lady was there wishing him luck…

It made him determined to succeed. For her and their future.

A knock sounded on his office door, and a quick glance at his phone proved that Lila was here for lunch. She’s here he texted back.

Got it. On my way up to back you up.

Thanks, bugaboo. He put his phone down and called out, “Enter.”

Lila opened the door, flashing him a smile. “Hey, I brought you something from my favorite place.”

“Perfect,” Adrien said, staring at the brooch attached to the ribbon on her neck. He just had to get close to her and snatch it. That was all.

She sat down on the other end of his desk and unloaded the food from the bag. Throughout the lunch, they chatted, Adrien doing everything he could to make Lila as comfortable as he could.

“You know,” Lila said, their meals nearly gone. “I… I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, but now that we’re alone, I feel like I can finally come clean. I… I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”

The smile that Adrien gave her was about seventy-five percent real. The only reason it wasn’t more was because he was trying to withhold that predatory smirk that wanted to surface. This is my chance. “I feel like you’ve alluded to as much.”

She giggled shyly. “I suppose I did. I just… it was hard to come out and say it. I’m not as direct as you,” Lila said, giving him a shy smile and even a blush. She’s a good actress. “But…I’ve had these feelings for a while now. And… I just had to tell you, I couldn’t hold back much longer.”

“Well… I’m really flattered,” Adrien said, glancing away and rubbing the back of his neck as though he was embarrassed. The thought of Marinette teasing him over her noticing that habit and teasing him about how cute it was was surely enough to put a blush on his cheeks. “I… I can’t say if I return the feelings or not, considering I don’t feel like I know you well enough to say.”

“That’s okay,” Lila assured, suddenly standing from her seat to round the desk. “I think that that’s fair of you to say. So, what about we take some time to get to know each other?”

With her new spot perched on the edge of his desk, she began rubbing her foot against his leg, sending him a sultry sort of smile.

He returned it, his opportunity becoming clearer. “I think we could work something out,” he said, standing from his seat and placing his hands on either side of her hips, allowing him to lean close to her. Please don’t kiss me he mentally begged. He would flirt that miraculous right off her neck, but he drew the line at a kiss.

She giggled, her shoulders shaking playfully. “How about this?” she said, placing a hand on his chest and causing his heart to pound uncomfortably. “I take you out to this fancy club I know. It’s a perfect chance to mix and mingle with people with connections.”

He hummed, leaning forward in a way that pushed against her hand, coaxing her to lean back. He hadn’t expected to get her all the way down on his desk, but he supposed she was more vulnerable that way. “That sounds good to me.”

“Why, Mr. Agreste,” she purred, a new gleam in her eyes that he hadn’t expected to appear. “Quite forward, aren’t we?”

“I prefer to get straight to the point.”

She chuckled, a dangerous kind of chuckle that he wasn’t comfortable with. “Do you do this to all the girls you meet with?”

“Only the ones I find interesting.” Which was actually not a lie. He was very interested in Marinette, and he was very interested in the broach on Lila’s neck.

“I didn’t know you had this in you,” she purred, shifting in such a way that brought attention to her breasts.

Not that he cared about her body. But he played up this ruse anyway. “You’re just a vixen, aren’t you?” he said, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“You’re not so innocent yourself. You seem like you’ve done this before.”

“Once or twice,” he dismissed, as he slowly moved his hand from where he tucked her hair behind her ear to cradle the back of her neck. From there, he could feel the button on the back that was holding the ribbon on her neck. His smirk widened. That would be easy to pull off.

Problem was she reached up to grab his tie, slowly pulling him down. “Well, want to make it a third?”

He looked at that broach, a rash plan snapping to his mind. “Sure.”

He leaned down the rest of the way, shocking Lila into gasping. But in a flash, he grabbed the brooch with his teeth causing her to shutter and her grip to loosen, giving him just enough time to undo the button and pull away from her.

“Thanks for the gift, Butterlie,” he said, her eyes widening in shock as she propped herself up on her elbows. “I’ll treasure it.”

She was stunned speechless. “W-what?”

But he was already making his way towards the door, slinging it open to reveal Marinette standing there.

“Seems like I didn’t need to intrude,” she said with a smirk.

“Of course not, bugaboo,” he said, glancing over at Lila. “I had it all under control.”

“I knew I could trust you, kitty,” she returned, also looking at Lila with a wickedly victorious grin on her face.

“W-what’s going on?” Lila said, her voice shaky with betrayal as she stood from the desk.

“Poor butterfly looks a little stunned,” Adrien purred out.

“Then let me explain,” Marinette said. “After you caused us so much trouble with all these akumas and all our failed attempts to steal your miraculous and your wonderful little ‘Anti-Superhero Fanclub’, we knew we had to try a different approach. Lucky for us, you couldn’t keep your sights off my husband, so we decided to use it against you.”

“You… you’re…” Suddenly, her expression went from stunned to furious.

“You’ve lost,” Marinette firmly iterated. “Go home, and we’ll let you off the hook. Otherwise, you’re gonna have five superheroes shamelessly haunting you. It will be easy enough to show off what the butterfly miraculous looks like and prove you were the one who wore it.”

Lila’s face grew red, but she was still speechless.

Adrien pointed to the door. “You better go, or I can call security to take you away?”

She growled, stamping her foot like a child. “You’re disgusting! I hope you both live miserable lives for tormenting me like this! Stealing that thing I worked so hard to get. Do you know who the original Hawkmoth was?”

“My father,” Adrien coldly answered, shocking Lila once again. “Go home, Lila. You’ll never torment Paris again.”

In a flash, she shoved Adrien, slamming him against the wall and reaching for the miraculous in his hand. But Marinette was quicker, yanking her off of him and tackling her to the ground.

A green figure and yellow one suddenly appeared, each grabbing Lila and holding her securely against the ground. “Whoa there, girl,” Carapace said. “I think Chat Noir and Ladybug here gave you a pretty good deal. But if you don’t want to take it, we’re happy to make you public, aren’t we, Rena?”

“Very much,” Rena said, appearing in the doorway, phone in hand. “I’m sure the Ladyblogger will love to see this.”

“I’m sure everyone in Paris will,” Queen Bee agreed, helping Carapace pull a restrained Lila off the ground. “After all, the Police are waiting outside and they’ll love to know just who makes their lives so miserable by causing chaos around the city on a weekly basis. Akuma attacks take up a lot of resources, don’t you know.”

“No!” Lila cried, resisting every step that Queen Bee and Carapace forced her to take. “You can’t do this!”

“We already did,” Marinette said. “It’s your fault, really. Had you not used the moth miraculous for evil, it wouldn’t have come to this. But when it comes to villains, anything is fair game.”

With one last cry, Lila was forced to march toward the elevator.

Marinette walked over to Rena to pat her shoulder. “You should go with them. Thanks for catching that.”

“No prob,” Rena said with a grin. “This is headline gold.”

Marinette chuckled as Rena quickly ran to the elevator and slipped inside right as the doors closed, leaving Marinette and Adrien standing with the butterfly miraculous.

The last one that had been corrupted.

“Well,” Tikki said, peeking out of Marinette’s jacket. “I think that went pretty well.”

“Well?” Plagg challenged, appearing from his spot in the desk drawer. “He was flirting with the enemy. And I thought it was bad when he and Ladybug are all googly eyes at each other.”

“That’s enough, Plagg,” Adrien chastised. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get this thing to Master Fu as quickly as I can.”

Marinette nodded her agreement. “I think that sounds like a really good idea.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #ladynoir july 2019 #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nathalie sancoeur #lila rossi #the villains fall #rena rouge #carapace #Queen Bee

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joonyverse · 5 years ago

Text

The President - Baekhyun (EXO) (Part 5)

A/N: Hello! It’s finally here! I know I take like LOTS of times to continue the series, and I’m really sorry for that :( Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this part!

Summary: Being the youngest Minister is not easy, especially when it seems like the whole world is trying to go against you. Proving yourself is proven to be a difficult thing. But things had to get even more tangled when dark pasts are coming out, and truths are being unveiled

Genre: Drama, romance, fluff, angst

Warning: Age-gap (10 years), some curses, bad english, grammar error, unedited

notes: yln = your last name, yfn = your full name

masterlist

Byun Baekhyun x Female Readers

If you’re uncomfortable with age-gap relationship, please just scroll through it

Bottle of pill and a glass of water were placed at the side table on your side. Your TV was on, yet it was on mute. Your eyes were focusing on your phone, trying your best not to fall asleep. The clock showed ten minutes to seven in the evening. The doctor hasn’t allow you to work just yet. Being inactive makes you feel tired, spent, and sleepy for the whole day. You decided to use the time to complete the decoration of your new apartment. Smell of jasmine and pear fragrance filling the whole apartment just enough, not too much to sickening one’s smelling sense.

Seeing the clock on your phone, you finally got up from the bed to dress up semi formally. The president for some reason want to meet you at his home at eight o’clock. If it wasn’t for the fact that it might be for serious occasion, you wouldn’t even consider it.

After putting on some light makeup to make yourself look more presentable and do your hair a little bit, you decided that it’s finally time to leave.

Unlike usual, you don’t have Mina to accompany you that day. Not wanting to make her work when you’re going to have a late meeting. So, it was just you and your chauffeur in the car. It was a serene and nice drive.

As you stepped out of the car into the comfort of Baekhyun’s home, just like yesterday, his house-makers greeted you at the entrance. What different was they come out of the house as soon as they finished greeting you, gaining a raised eyebrow from you.

As you stepped into his living room, there was everyone, who in your thought, had been called for the same reason as you.

There was the police deputy chief if you remembered his name was Jinyoung, someone who you recognized as a prosecutor, a judge that looks way too familiar yet you can’t pinpoint who was she, a lawyer that was known to be the president’s friend named Junmyeon if you remember that correctly, and of course Baekhyun himself was present. All of their eyes were on you.

“I’m so sorry for being late and making you wait” you apologized, which received a chuckle from them. “It’s okay, you’re actually just in time!” Junmyeon said to you as he pat the seat beside him, which is the only empty seat… and of course it has to be beside Baekhyun.

“Well, if it isn’t the president’s lover” the judge said, with a playful look on her face.

Too used of it at that point, you simply chuckled at the remark. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduce myself, I’m y/n” you said, despite knowing they’re probably know that already. What surprises you was the surprises look on their faces. You might be a little bit way too observant than you would like to, but you can’t help it, not when they tried not to stare at Baekhyun in confused look.

Clearing his throat, Baekhyun decided to break the ice. “Y/n, this is Sowon from Seoul’s prosecutor office, Judge Kang Minkyung, and you probably know this is Junmyeon, and that is Jinyoung” he said as he introduced them one by one while politely pointing at them to make it clear who was he’s referring to.

You nodded in acknowledgement. Most of the people there actually look young, around your age, or a little bit older than you. You knew Jinyoung as he was your senior during university days, Sowon because recently she won a big case , Junmyeon as he was well known for being Baekhyun’s friend and a top tier lawyer, and yet somehow, you feel like you know MInkyung yet you don’t. Judging from the wrinkles that has formed on her beautiful skin, Minkyung was the oldest here.

“You guys probably already know why I called you here” Baekhyun started. “I formed a team to investigate the recent bombing tragedy” Baekhyun added, a little bit more solemnly.

You looked down. Memories of the moment it all happened come into the poor tired mind. You sighed down. You looked up, slowly looking into everyone’s faces one by one. “It’s… that serious?” you asked.

Sowon moved closer to the edge of the sofa she was sitting on, eyes on you. “You really don’t remember, do you?” she asked skeptically.

Before you could even ask what did she mean, Baekhyun and Minkyung cut in into the conversation. “Sowon, cut it down, give her time” they said something along that line, as they groaned.

“Excuse me, what do you mean?” You asked, confusion painted your face. “Do I have anything to remember?” you added.

Baekhyun had his hand rubbing at his forehead, frown was apparent in his face. “y/n” he called, caught your attention. He deeply look into your eyes, as if trying to plant assurance and search for something in you. “It’s nothing” he said with a tired smile.

You really did want to press on the matter. Not liking the situation where you don’t remember something, and yet it feels like everyone does. But you knew Baekhyun seems like he’s tired enough and just want to get into a more important matter now. And you respect that.

You pulled out some files that you had prepared beforehand, not wanting to go empty hand and not knowing into the meeting. “From the data I compiled, I realized that the method of the bombing, the bomb, the strategy, and the targets, it happened not only once but had happened so many times too in the past-“

“Hold on, how did you know how the bombing method that happened now? I thought I made a specific order to Mina to not report this to you until you finally can get back to work?” Baekhyun cut you off.

“I didn’t know you did that, which by the way is ridiculous as I can handle this, but I did my research, thank you” you said as you raised an eyebrow at him, not liking how he underestimated you, or so you thought. “And also, it was still not known whether it’s simply only one psycho that did it or a group of terrorist, because some of the proofs indicate that only one person is in the work, but yet it feels like a group that did it, and no terrorist group had claimed for it” you said.

“It was… a group of people and yet a person only” Jinyoung said, his eyes staring into nothing.

You tilt your head in confusion. If you thought this meeting couldn’t get any weirder, well it just did. “”I’m sorry, what?” you asked for clarification.

Baekhyun and Minkyung exchanged stares. You nervously looked at them. You sighed can’t take it anymore. “I thought we are a team?” you said, voice raising. The rise in your voice caught everyone’s attention. “If we are a team just like what you said, I should be able to trust you, and you trust me, and yet, there’s so many secrets among us that feels important and yet you try to hide it, because if this is how this team goes, then I’m not sure I can work with you” you said.

No one responded. Not knowing what to say. But you felt like you already said what was needed to say. You sighed. It was final you thought. You got up from your seat, “That’s it, have a good evening everyone” you said.

“Wait, please sit down” Baekhyun said, stopping you from walking away.

“With all due respect, you make me feel stupid and dumb for not knowing, and when I asked, you all just give me an ambiguous answer, that don’t really answer my question, when trust is what we need” you said, anger radiates from you.

“I know, y/n, I know, so please sit down and hear me out” Baekhyun said.

“I’ve obeyed and respect you enough sir, but if I’m being treated like this, perhaps I rather go” you retaliated.

“Sit down! and hear me out!” Baekhyun shouted, shocked everyone in the room, well, except you.

“I tried to not raise my voice, at you, I really do sir” you said, in dangerously low voice. “I tried to make you understand my point of view” you added.

Baekhyun sighed. “You’re so fucking childish you know that? We have a so much important matter to discuss, and now we’re wasting time just because you can’t keep your stupid emotions at the bay” he said.

And you felt like that was the last straw. You’re done being treated like this. “I better go than stupidly waste your time, then” you said as you stepped away from the living room.

“y/n, stay, if you don’t want to hear Baekhyun out, you have to hear me out” a voice that you recognized as Minkyung’s said, stopping you in your track.

“Why? Why do I have to hear you out?” you asked.

“Because you’re being stubborn, letting your emotion get the best of you, and it’s important to you and also the case to hear me out” she said.

You turn your back, heading into the living room, and sat at the seat you just left.

“There’s still so many things we couldn’t explain to you, but when the time comes, it will comes to you and you will understand why, but we can’t, for now at least” she said carefully, trying not to tick you off.

“The terrorist, they called themselves Scorpion” Minkyung said. “We can’t… really explain why Jinyoung said what he said, but anyway, that’s what they called themselves” she added.

“How do you know that?” You asked.

Minkyung sighed. “I know, you’re trying to get to the root of it, to the very bottom, and it’s in your instinct to do so, but when we give you an information, please just take it as it is for now, no question, unless you have an information that you gained by your own self” she said.

Really, Minkyung’s explanation doesn’t make sense in your head. But deep in your heart, you knew she meant well, you didn’t know how, but you know she meant well. You just simply sighed.

“Investigation starts tomorrow, come to the address I’ll give you tomorrow after you put your absence in, in your own respective office, I expected you to come around 10am, show your faces in your office, and then come there” he said as he dismissed all of you.

It was early when you arrived at your office, not wanting to be swarmed by the media trying to get a piece of mind. You greeted everyone with a smile. Despite being early, some people were already there, you suspect they were cycling, judging by the outfits they wore and the change of clothes they brought.

Stepping into your very own office, it feels like going back to school all over again. Where chaos now will really start. A pile of files were seen on your table, a long due paperworks probably you thought. You checked the watch that you wore, it was 7am. And so you decided to kill time by doing the works that you had left.

With a sigh, you plop down into your armchair. You open one of the file, reading every words carefully, You admit paperwork was never your favorite thing, but sometimes, situation force people into doing things don’t they? Without you realizing, you finally fall deep into your works, not paying attention to the surrounding, just you and the files.

Knock on your door waking you up from the deep concentration you were in. You can feel your brain starts to hurt at the amount of information it receives in a short span of time. “Come in” you said tiredly followed by a yawn.

Mina appeared from behind the door. A file was in her embrace. “It’s time” she said.

You immediately looked at the watch on your wrist. It was 9am now. You didn’t realize just how much time had gone as you were so focused on the job at hand. You got up from your seat and walking towards the door, when Mina gave you the file she had with her. “This is probably what you’re going to need” she said. You gave her a genuine smile. Mina is always helpful with you, and you can’t take her enogh. “Thank you so much Mina, you’re a life savior” you said.

Mina gave you a smile in return. “i will need to stay her in case anything happen” she said as she gave you a pat on the back.

“Thanks, see you later!”

It was an interesting ride, really. Everything have to go through some security procedures. An officer had to be inside the car with you. Complicated and a little bit bothersome really, but you understood the need to. You had to be blindfolded, had they not ask politely, you would tell them off. It’s called the bunker for some reason.

They took off the blindfold as soon as you arrived. You can see through the car window that this place is a huge underground basecamp or whatever that is. Lights were illuminating it, enlightened the ‘building’, replacing the lack of sun or any lights that usually came outside of the building that’s over the ground.

In amazement, you stepped out of the car, eyes scanning the whole building. The building that people thought was a myth. That people don’t know when it was build even, but looking at it, they must took their time to build it. It was so well built really. “This way, ma’am” an officer said to you as she leads the way. Had you not in amazement, you would let out a remark over your disagreement on where people’s tax had gone to.

She lead you into a room, far into this underground building. It was almost at the end of the building. She knocked gently into the door, and you wonder, would people be able to hear it because every wall and everything that’s built here seems so thick. Not long after, the door was opened, revealing what seems like a meeting room. And there was Baekhyun sitting in the middle seat. She gave him a bow before she let you in and got out from the room.

You chuckled as you took your seat near Baekhyun. “Fancy basement huh?” you asked in teasing manner.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You called seventy million dollar underground building, a basement?” he asked in serious tone.

You rolled your eyes. “Geez, calm down grandpa, it’s a joke, if you want to be serious enough, I would complain on where people’s tax had gone to” you said in as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

He chuckled. “Fair enough” he said.

Not long after, the others came one by one. Many of them was complimenting the building, but also complaining about how bothersome the security protocols were.

“You know, I wonder why we have to go underground just to solve a bombing case, that certainly is not a confidential matter” you said. “But knowing you guys, you probably won’t tell me and get on the ‘you’ll know when you know’ bullshit” you added.

“As a matter of fact, that’s correct” Baekhyun said. “You’ll know when you know, lover” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh please, that’s like so last year” you groaned.

“And we’re still wondering whether it’s real or not” Junmyeon said, a teasing smile on his face. You groaned even louder.

“Oh come on! I don’t even know why those media did that! They’re dramatizing everything” You said followed by a sigh.

And then you saw Jinyoung and Sowon exchanging a knowing look before they look at you innocently. “Oh no, not you two” you said which earned a chuckle from them. “We said nothing y/n, nothing” Jinyoung said through his chuckle.

“Enough joking, now let’s get into it, what do you guys have on you?” Baekhyun asked as he eyeing the documents all of you brought.

You look at the documents in front of you. You read the words on the document carefully. Doing a quick scanning on what the documents are about. Some of them date to so long ago, and some of them are more recent. Just when you thought this case can’t get any more interesting. “Whoever did it, they’ve been doing it for so long” you said.

Photos were attached to each files. Photos of the scene, photos of the corpses, photo of the bomb’s debris. As you read the files, you realized the lack of survivor in this case. You frowned in wonder. “No one survived?” you asked.

And suddenly, all of them look towards each other with knowing look. And it makes you feel dumb all over again. You slowly sighed, trying not to be loud. You rolled your eyes before focusing back into the documents.

Hours of reading make any normal humans dizzy of course. You can feel your eyes burning and begging to be closed. But yet, your ambition and motivation won’t let you. Every time your fatigue almost won over you, you quickly motivate yourself to let it be open for more minutes.

Until finally, something caught your eyes. After thousands of words, hundreds of pages, finally, something caught your attention,

Scarlet Reapers.

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 6 years ago

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Word Count: 5180 Author’s Note: This replaces that Five Minute Ficlet that got so long and out of hand. Now it’s longer and more out of hand but at least it can have a read more thing, right?

XXX

You flipped through the patient chart and furrowed your brow. You had to have missed something. So you flipped through the file again, slowing down to check each page thoroughly. You hadn’t missed anything, the digital transfer wasn’t corrupted and you only had a transfer order for the patient coming in from the Enterprise. You didn’t even know what was wrong with him. Just his name and and order to transfer care to Yorktown Surgical Clinic 3.

You sat down at the console and hailed the Enterprise MedBay.

“Hi, it’s Y/N from YSC3. I’m just going through the file you sent on Ensign Crawford. I don’t appear to have Doctor’s Order or a med reconciliation,” you addressed the nurse when he answered.

“Med rec and orders are sitting on Doctor McCoy’s desk, awaiting signatures. He’ll send them when he has a chance.” The nurse was dismissive. “We’re still dealing with the aftermath of an away mission, so we’re really busy and I need to free up these beds. The Transport should be arriving in twenty.”

“I can’t actually accept transfer of this patient without orders,” you pointed out.

“I’m sure you can handle it,” he countered. “McCoy is a little busy to be fussing over orders.”

You cocked an eyebrow in surprise and nodded. You were about to say something more when a medical transport came through the bay doors of the clinic with the patient in question. Your jaw dropped.

“I hope there’s more information with him than you’d already sent me,” you huffed angrily.

“His chart is on the PADD I sent with him.”

“Tell Doctor McCoy I need those orders stat,” you barked and closed the channel. You bit back your displeasure and smiled at the transfer team, taking their report quickly and reassuring the patient that you had him well in hand.

“I’m just going to do a quick assessment on you, Ensign, and then see if I can’t track down some info on you. Before we start, can you tell me how your pain is?” As soon as you saw him, you knew his admitting diagnosis, at least. Above the elbow traumatic amputation of the arm. From the look of the tissue, it was fresh and likely still painful.

“I missed my morning dose of hydrocortilene because of the chaos of the transfer. I’m solidly a nine of ten,” he offered. You grimaced and quickly worked through your intake assessment.

Once you had the Ensign settled with a snack and drink, you excused yourself to the nurses station to hail the Enterprise, but this time you went right over the nurse’s heads and attempted hailing the Chief Medical Officer. When he didn’t respond, you hailed the Captain.

“Captain Kirk, I’m sorry to need to contact you, but I have been trying, unsuccessfully to contact Doctor McCoy for quite some time,” you began.

“He’s been quite busy, Lieutenant, but you’re in luck, he just walked in the bridge,” Captain Kirk smiled and gestured to the man standing beside him. You were stopped in your tracks for a moment, the man was so handsome. When you just stared dumbly at him he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Lieutenant?” You hadn’t offered your name in your hail, choosing instead to identify only your location.

“Sorry,” you snapped out of your reverie. “I have Ensign Crawford here with no orders. He’s complaining of pain. I need a med reconciliation and new orders on him, stat, and I was flipping through his PADD and have an incompletely history on him.”

A scowl settled across Doctor McCoy’s face, and he turned to face Captain Kirk.

“This is why I told you I want that jackass out of my MedBay,” he snapped. He glanced over his shoulder to look at you. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, he wasn’t supposed to be transferred without my go ahead. I’ll be right on that. For now, give hydrocortilene, thirty milligrams by hypospray.”

“Thank you sir,” you nodded and ended the communication to take care of Ensign Crawford.

Ensign Crawford responded well to the pain meds and you watched from across the clinic as he drowsed and finally fell asleep. Content that he was settled, you began to work on his chart. Orders had arrived while you’d been administering the pain medication and you were impressed by Doctor McCoy’s quick response. When Ensign Crawford wakened with a strangled scream, you dropped the PADD and rushed to him. He was sweaty and his pupils were blown wide with fear.

“Ensign?” You asked from a distance. You’d learned your lesson as a young nurse never to get too close to someone coming out of a nightmare or delirium. It was a quick way to get badly hurt. His eyes took a moment to find you but then he was able to focus and you saw him relax a little.

“I had a nightmare. The pain is back,” he moaned. “It’s worse than when the damn Gorn tore it off.”

You sighed and nodded. You’d seen this so many times with amputations, as the nerve endings tried to make sense of the injury to them, pain got worse, or phantom pains started. It was just your luck that right as the young man had been discharged properly into your care that the clinic was short the doctor for the day. You were going to have to contact Doctor McCoy again. You hailed the Enterprise again and were pleased to see the handsome physician’s face up on the screen nearly immediately.

“What now, nurse?” He asked, a little gruff. “I’ve sent you comprehensive orders and discharged him to the clinic doctor.”

“My apologies, Doctor McCoy, we are down a Doctor today and since you’re familiar with the patient, I felt you were my best course of contact. The ensign is having nerve pain -“

“This is new,” he interrupted, a question in his voice.

“According to the charting from nursing, this has been ongoing for three days. The most recent charting indicates a query about substance seeking. There’s not notation as to whether you were made aware,” you replied. “As he has nearly nothing for PRN meds, I felt that you would have better insight.”

“I’m just pulling up his chart,” Doctor McCoy replied. “The boy is an uncomplicated case, and it was a stand-out to me that he wasn’t having nerve pain. I’m quite upset to see this was ongoing with no communication to me. I’d like to try low dose gabapentin. It’s old fashioned, but you should be able to synthesize it on-site with no issues. I’ll transfer orders to your PADD.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry to be a bother. I haven’t processed the orders completely, but I’ll let you know if I need any further clarifications,” you smiled.

“I look forward to it,” he winked before closing the frequency, and your heart gave a silly little jump that told you you were interested.

“Too bad he’s on that damn ship,” you grumbled and went back to the ensign’s chart.

XXX

You unfortunately had no further reason to contact the handsome doctor. His orders were clear and Ensign Crawford stabilized easily once his pain was controlled. The Clinic doctor returned the following shift and soon the young ensign was healthy enough to ship to Promixa to be fitted for a prosthesis. Doctor McCoy became a happy memory as the days rolled on and new patients became your priority.

You were gazing out the clinic window, staring at the stars as the gleamed through the dome surrounding Yorktown. Yorktown was amazing, and while it was in space, it wasn’t exactly what you’d been thinking when you’d joined Starfleet. You had wanted to see space, deal with frontline injuries and triage, use your trauma skills. There wasn’t a lot of excitement on Yorktown.

“You’re unhappy, aren’t you?” Dr. Alanna was the most perceptive of the doctors in the clinic. You turned to face her.

“Not unhappy,” you denied. “Bored though?”

She smiled in response. “Take a few days leave and blow off some steam. Have fun, get wild.”

“Well, if you insist,” you laughed. She nodded.

“Take a hypo with some electrolytes in it, and do something shameful,” she winked.

“Might be hard here,” you retorted with a snort.

“I have faith in you,” she laughed.

XXX

You were lost your first day of leave. Leaving behind Earth had meant leaving behind some of your favourite activities, like hiking. You weren’t sure if you missed the climb or the inevitable leap into a cool mountain lake to cool off more, but you missed everything about your outdoor adventures. Yorktown had a climbing gym, and a number of swimming pools, but it wasn’t the same as seeing the world spread out beyond a mountain peak.

As a result, you floundered on that first day, so uncertain of what to do with your free time that you just puttered in your quarters. The place was spotless by mid-morning, and you found yourself completely at odds with the idea of another three days without working.

You flopped on the couch and picked up your PADD, accessing the services and amenities section of the Yorktown welcome guide. There was a Federation run shuttle tour of the nearby planets that looked interesting, and before you were even sure it was what you wanted, you were booked on the afternoon shuttle.

The shuttle ride was bumpier than you’d expected, and you felt a little nauseated by the time you landed, but as soon as you stepped out into the fresh air and warm sunlight of the planet, your complaints were forgotten. The tour guide gave you a basic rundown - the planet was uninhabited, but did have a small Federation outpost and mine on the surface.

You logged your intended plan with the guide and headed out into the wilderness. Using the map provided when you’d registered, you knew it was a short walk to the base of the nearby mountains, and the guide had promised amazing views from the summit.

The day was humid, and warmer than you were used to, but the sun felt so good on your skin that you pressed forward. Once at the summit, you took in the beauty of nature and relaxed. It was quiet and peaceful on the mountain.

When you stood to head back to the shuttle, a wave of dizziness crashed over you and you stumbled, and fell, hitting your head on the rocky ground. Your eyelids grew heavy and you could have sworn you saw a group of people approaching as you drifted out of consciousness.

Consciousness was slow in returning, first with a persistent ringing in your ears, then glaring red behind your eyelids. When you finally came awake, it was to the sound of guttural speech that you didn’t understand.

So much for the planet being uninhabited except by the Federation outpost. You lifted your eyelids just enough to see and hopefully not let the aliens who had you know you were awake yet. You carefully moderated your breathing to replicate the slow pattern of sleeping and took in as much as you could through without moving.

You were in a makeshift camp, from what you could see. A craft that was unmistakably a shuttle, although of unfamiliar construction, was a few metres away, an awning of torn fabric staked out as what could only be a temporary protection from the sun. You were laying in the dirt at the edge of a forest clearing, a blanket thrown across you. Your head wasn’t uncomfortable, so you guessed they were trying to see to your well-being.

You opened your eyes cautiously, and slowly pushed yourself to sitting. The two aliens sitting nearby looked up. They were vaguely humanoid in appearance.

“You wake, good,” one of them spoke, their words short and heavily accented. “Federation?”

“Yes. On leave. I wanted to hike,” you offered. The first one to speak looked as though he was struggling with the translation of your words.

“Recreation,” his companion offered. You nodded. You gestured to the camp.

“Did you crash?”

“The atmospheric pressure disrupted the shuttle. Safe landing but engines failed,” the second replied. “Need supplies.”

“We can’t be far from the base,” you offered. “Help me back and I’m sure -“

“No,” the first interrupted.

“But -“

“We are not Federation,” the second offered by means of explanation. You furrowed your brow and looked harder at the two, trying to identify them from any xenoanatomy texts you’d used in school. Prominent ridged brows, sharp teeth, dark bronze skin.

“Are you Klingons?” Neither responded, and for the first time you had the sense to be scared. “I had to file a plan with the tour operator, they will be looking for me.”

The first made a face. “We exchange you for parts.”

“Or we could just head to the base and -“

“Enough! You are a prisoner, and we will use you as leverage to get what we need,” the second snapped. “The Federation will not just give us the parts to repair our shuttle. But in exchange for your life -“

“I think you overestimate my value,” you laughed, fear making you bold. “I’m just a nurse. I work on a starbase. I’m no one special.”

“They will negotiate,” he replied confidently. “Even now, a Federation ship has come into orbit. You will see.”

XXX

The frustration you felt building inside you clashed with a niggling drop of anxiety. Together, the emotions made it impossible for you to sit still, and you fidgeted and fussed until you finally couldn’t handle it anymore, and rose. Both men jumped up, one pointing a weapon at you.

“I need to move,” you offered. “And I need to pee.” They both looked confused and you sighed. “Eliminate waste?”

Recognition crossed the second Klingon’s face and he nodded, gesturing his head toward the shuttle. “There’s a latrine around the back.”

You stretched your arms above your head and bent from side to side, working some of the stiffness out of your joints before making your way around the back of the shuttle. As promised, a very rudimentary pit toilet was there and you were careful in relieving yourself. You took the opportunity to assess the layout of the land and realized the Klingons hadn’t been thinking about securing a prisoner when they set up their camp. They’d only been thinking about securing themselves.

While there were good sight lines from the front of the shuttle, the back, where you were, was butted against a low hill and completely obscured a natural break in the trees. It would be easy for you to sneak away under cover of darkness. You’d just had to convince them you were trustworthy enough to continue not guarding.

You returned to the campsite and noticed the firewood was getting low.

“Would you like me to go collect deadfall? It will surely get cold tonight,” you offered. It took a moment to translate your question and then the second Klingon nodded.

“We will go together,” he agreed, gesturing in the opposite direction of the shuttle. You followed him into the woods, and started collecting fallen branches. “You have some survival training.”

“All Starfleet members have,” you nodded. “But I also grew up in a very outdoor oriented family. We used to camp and hike a lot.”

“For fun?” He asked.

“Of course. For fun, and family time, and fitness,” you nodded as you piled your arms with wood. He tucked his weapon away and started loading his own arms. You continued on in silence until you were nearly back to the camp.

“I had understood that humans did not care for rough living,” he offered. You laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to live out in the woods, but I enjoy being in nature on my terms. I love the fresh air, and the beauty. Relying on my own skills makes me feel stronger,” you offered.

“And yet humans pursue only peace,” he commented. You laughed again.

“Maybe now. But human history is filled with war and bloodshed,” you corrected. He looked more angry than usual, but you thought it might be that he was attempting to understand the strange dichotomy you’d offered.

“I hope you eat meat, or you will be hungry.” The subject change was abrupt and you nodded, dropping the firewood near the fire. At least they were going to feed you. The entire experience didn’t stand up to what you had learned about Klingons in xenoanthropology. These Klingons are more gentle and kind than you were expecting. Then again, they were vulnerable sitting ducks on a Federation occupied planet, so keeping their hostage safe and healthy was probably important to their escape plans.

They offered you a bitter meat that made you swallow back gags of disgust. It wasn’t rancid or rotting, but tart and somewhat acidic. The drink they offered you wasn’t much better, but you knew if you were to escape, you’d need to be nourished.

Darkness fell and the Klingons took watch shifts, with the less friendly Klingon disappearing into the shuttle to rest. You huddled near the fire, stoking it with small twigs to keep it alive but keep the light down. You got up to use the latrine and your companion sat up, alert.

“Latrine,” you offered, disappearing behind the shuttle. You returned quickly, hoping it would cause him to let his guard down. A short while later, you rose again, and he picked up his head again and watched as you disappeared behind the shuttle wordlessly, returning quickly.

The third time you rose, he didn’t move. His eyes followed you, but as soon as he saw you were walking toward the shuttle again, he looked back to the fire and added wood to the embers, stoking it better than you had. You could hear the wood snapping as it caught. Good. He would be temporarily blinded by the increase in light.

You crept up the hillside, obscured by the shuttle and disappeared into the blackness of the forest. As soon as the light from the camp dimmed, you sped up, less cautious about the sound you were making. And once your eyes fully adjusted to the dark forest, you began to run as quickly as you could. By the time the Klingon shouted in alarm at your absence, you could barely hear him.

XXX

You ran until your lungs burned and then ran a little further, finally stopping when you reached a clearing you knew would be dangerous to be caught in the middle of. You tried to get your bearings as you skirted the perimeter of the trees, but the night sky was unfamiliar, and you had no real idea what direction you’d been running. When the Klingons had carried you back to their encampment, they hadn’t brought your rucksack. You had no comm, no tricorder, no weapon, nothing.

You forced your breathing to steady, concentrating on any sound that was coming from behind you. There was nothing. Klingons were not known for their stealthy ground attacks, but you still knew your own silence remained important. These Klingons hadn’t seemed like the Klingons you’d read about in textbooks. So maybe they were able to silently track you.

As you came to the far side of the clearing, you continued into the woods again, and found yourself climbing up. It wasn’t an arduous climb, but your feet slipped a few times on the loose scree of the slope. You finally reached the top of the hill, and reached up to pull yourself over the ledge. To your surprise and amazement, it was the summit of the mountain you’d climbed. And your bag was still there, where it had been discarded.

You tore into it, first grabbing your canteen and drinking deeply of the cold, clean water. Your rummaged a little further and pulled out a protein bar and had to force yourself to chew slowly as you dug your comm out. You should have had great signal to the tour base, but nothing was coming in. You pulled your bag over your shoulder and started to descend the mountain, using the marked trail you’d first climbed, searching the channels of your comm as you went. You finally managed to secure a connection, and thought absently of the Federation ship the Klingons had referenced.

“This is Lieutenant Y/L/N hailing orbiting Federation starship, please respond,” you addressed, crossing your fingers. There was a few moments of silence and then a response.

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, what is the purpose of your hail?” The familiar captain’s voice made your body relax.

“It’s a little embarrassing Captain, but I had an accident while on leave, and then was taken hostage by -” your voice cut off with a scream as phaser fire blew past you. You dove to one side of the trail and began to run. “I’m under fire from Klingon aggressors, please beam up!”

“Did you say Klingons, Lieutenant?” Kirk’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Sir, you’re breaking up, please beam up!” You replied, dodging branches and stumbling down the hill at breakneck speed.

“This is Lieutenant Commander Scott of the Enterprise. I’m having some trouble triangulating your location, can you get out the trees, hen?” A thick Scottish accent came across your comm, crackly and broken. You gave it a look of disbelief.

“I’m under fire! You want me to dodge out of the trees into the direct line of fire so I can be shot at and maybe beamed up?” You screamed into the comm.

“Well when you put it that way, it sounds a bit daft, but yes,” he replied.

“Well, that dishy doctor better be on duty to patch me up!” you screamed and ran back onto the path, immediately needing to dodge another phaser blast. You shrieked and started to lose your balance. The edge of the path, you knew from the daytime, led to a steep fall to the bottom of the mountain should you topple that way.

“Much better, just getting a lock on you now,” came the Scot’s brogue.

“I hope you’re good at catching moving objects Mr. Scott!” You dove off the edge of the cliff and flipped onto your back midair, pulling your phaser and shooting up into the black of night. You felt a little like an action hero instead of a space station nurse, and thought if you had to die, at least it was going to make a good story. Right as you resigned yourself to the splat on the ground below, the golden beams of the transporter wrapped around you and you thudded down onto the solid flooring of the transporter bay. “Ow.”

“You’re a bit of the cowboy, aren’t you? That was quite the exciting transport, hen.” With those words you were able to identify Mr. Scott. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, getting your bearings. Everything hurt. As you breathed in though, you noticed a particularly painful area on your shoulder. “Oh, shit, you’ve been hit.”

“It figures,” you groaned and closed your eyes, letting the black welcome you.

XXX

You wakened to the steady rhythm of your own heart beeping above you. You craned your neck and checked your vital signs and sighed with relief. Everything was normal. Which meant you’d received prompt and adequate care. You tried to sit up and an alarm sounded. With a roll of your eyes, you silenced the alarm and dangled your legs at the bedside, tentatively checking the range of motion in your arm. A nurse approached in haste.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she scolded, a warm smile on her face. “Although I understand. It sucks to be the patient.”

“Thanks. I think I need to pee,” you mumbled, somewhat groggy still. She nodded and helped you to your feet and then over to the toilet.

“I’m sure this set-up is no different than the starbase. Ring the bell when you’re ready and I’ll help you back to bed.” She pointed at the button on the wall and left you alone. You took in your appearance in the mirror and were a little horrified. Your hair was a greasy mess, you had a number of bruises on your face and the bandage on your shoulder was showing signs of your wound still draining. Phaser wounds were a bitch to treat, so you weren’t surprised that it wasn’t completely healed yet.

You grated against needing help back to bed, and slowly made your way back on your own, only to be stopped by the familiar handsome features of Doctor McCoy.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” he chastised, his tone lazy and oozing charm. You looked him in the eye and shrugged.

“I needed to pee?”

“I’ve had the pleasure of Christine Chapel in my medbay for long enough to know she wouldn’t have left you to your own devices. Why didn’t you ring the call bell?” He countered, slipping his arm under your good one to help you back to the bed.

“Because I’m perfectly capable of ambulating to and from the toilet,” you groused. He smirked as he pulled his tricorder out and scanned you.

“I’m going to peel back that bandage on your shoulder and take a look at the wound. While you were out, we did two passes with the dermal regen, but it’ll need some more. The muscles will be sore for quite some time, and I’ll give you some physiotherapy exercises for range of motion. No overdoing it. I’ve been in touch with your superior, and she’s extended your leave. Captain Kirk wants to keep an eye on you until the Klingons that did this are caught. He found their camp, but they’d abandoned it and torched the shuttle,” he offered. It was so much information that your brain swam.

“Wouldn’t it be safer to drop me back at Yorktown?” You asked.

“Well, darlin’, where I come from questioning your captain’s orders is called insubordination,” he retorted. You heard Christine scoff from the nurse’s station and tilted your head.

“In my experience, most nurses know when their docs are lying,” you countered. He smiled and said nothing, finishing the assessment without a word. When he stepped back from you, you gave him an expectant look.

“Well, I might have told him I need to keep an eye on the healing,” he finally admitted.

“Any doctor could -”

“Your file said you applied for exploration missions before your placement at Yorktown,” he interrupted.

“I didn’t exactly join Starfleet to work in a clinic,” you nodded.

“I just happen to have an opening in my crew right now,” he explained. “I thought it would be nice to keep you around, see how you get on with the staff. I already like you.”

“Oh, you do?” You asked, wincing as he palpated the skin around the phaser wound. He mumbled an apology and administered a pain med by hypo.

“I like the way you handled Crawford. I liked the way you handled hailing the captain to get me. Your C.O. seems to think the sun rises and sets on you. She said yours is the only clinic she is comfortable leaving without a doctor of the day,” he explained.

“How long have you been looking at my records? I can’t have been out for that long,” you demanded.

“Since that first day,” he admitted, a light flush rising over his cheeks. You looked away, secretly delighted that he’d noticed you, even if he was going to be your CMO, which meant nothing could ever happen. You had a healthy respect for watching a nice looking man work. And the Enterprise was the flagship.

“I’ve heard Jim Kirk plays fast and loose with the rules,” you commented. McCoy smirked and gave you a non-committal little shrug.

“Depends on what the rule is,” he replied. You could feel the heat searing your cheeks but decided to say what was on your mind. Trusting your gut had got you saved, after all.

“Fraternization?”

McCoy’s smirk spread into a grin and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “A five year mission is not the time to be worried about who’s bunking with who, sweetheart. He’s only really strict about officers and ensigns. You’re a lieutenant. Don’t go messing around with the ensigns or yeomen and -”

“I have my eye on a lieutenant commander, actually. He’s a bit gruff and can be cranky when he thinks his time is being wasted, but he’s always been pretty sweet to me. I mean, I’m a little broken right now so I can’t chase after him. But do you think playing the helpless invalid might help me?” You interrupted.

“I have it on good authority that he likes a woman who’s a challenge,” he replied, his voice going husky. He stepped a little closer and pushed the hair off your face. “Strong enough to hold her spine straight when a doc tries to tear her down. Clever enough to escape from Klingons. Tough enough to jump off a cliff to try to get away. That’s the kind of woman that interests me. Not some wilting flower.”

“Stupid enough to try to kiss you, even though you might be her CO soon?” you asked, tilting your head up to his. He answered by dropping his mouth against yours.

“Smart enough to see an invite,” he murmured between gentle kisses.

“I hope you like stubborn too because I’m going to be pushing hard for a discharge,” you laughed.

“I would call that motivated and goal-oriented.” He pulled back and a soft smile was on his face. It made him look younger. “As eager as we both seem, I would like to recommend we take it slow. We’re only two years into the five. We’ve got lots of time.”

“And we’re only just responding to chemicals right now,” you agreed. He pressed another kiss to your mouth and stepped back, as Captain Kirk entered, making a face that made you realize he’d seen the kisses.

“Chemicals and Kissing? That’s never a good thing,” Kirk commented. “Did you come into contact with any strange plants? Weird pollen?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Doctor McCoy was referring to plain old sexual chemistry, Captain. No sex pollen.”

Kirk shook his head. “Bones never has -”

“That’ll be enough, Jim. This is different, and it’s not sex pollen,” McCoy interrupted, scowling. “Back to the bridge with you, or I’ll catch you up on your vaccinations.”

Kirk arched an eyebrow and let out a soft huff of amusement before throwing up his hands in surrender and backing out of MedBay. McCoy looked back at you, and his features softened. “Time for you to rest. We’ll run the regen again this afternoon.”

You settled back against the firm mattress of the BioBed and nodded, closing your eyes. The interaction had left you tired, but ultimately hopeful that you’d met your match in the handsome doctor.

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shenaniganggang · 3 years ago

Text

A Visit to Dissociation

*the photo's not mine*

There are moments in life that can never be undone.

Moments that shape or shatter your world.

So Hee knows this better than most--she’s had her fair share of them, after all. When the call comes in from Ree’s doctor that he needs to go in due to some of his recent test results, she can’t quite shake the feeling that this may be one of them.

She takes the afternoon off from work. Her job is important to her, but it's Ree, and he has always come first.

He shifts beside her, tapping his thighs, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. She can’t blame him--Ree is alive in loud technicolor while the office is done up in cool hues and flat whites with inoffensive artwork along the walls. It’s stifling for her, so she can only imagine how it is for him.

Across from them, his doctor adds some information into her tablet and glances up. “Your liver enzymes came back high.”

The sentence is simple enough, but even so the words take a moment to register, and when they do, So Hee wants some clarification. Actually, no; she doesn’t--she really doesn’t--because she knows where this is going...

She presses her palms over her suit pants, along the seam in an effort to settle her nerves. When that doesn’t work she fidgets with the bracelet at her wrist--a nervous habit--but one that helps ground her. This isn’t about her, she reminds herself--it’s about Ree-and no matter what comes next she will face it, because for him she would face anything. Taking a steadying breath, she asks: “What does that mean?”

"It means that we're going to have to try a different medication." Crisp and detached, the words come and So Hee wonders if the doctor even knows the impact of them.

Despite knowing they were coming, So Hee can’t help but feel them like a kick in the gut. Her breath hitches and she swallows the abrupt knot of dread in her throat.

She feels, rather than sees, Ree stiffen beside her--his tapping coming to a halt. He hates when she’s upset. It doesn’t matter how well she thinks she masks it--he always knows.

"I don't want a different one." Ree finally says, his voice tight.

So Hee puts her hand on his knee, her thumb rubbing slow circles. She doesn’t want him upset either--especially when she knows it’s not about the medication and more about her involuntary reaction.

"This medication has really been working well for him,” she presses the doctor. "We've had a lot of trouble with them before. We thought this was the one." She can’t help the wistfulness that creeps into her voice. They were making progress. This was the longest ‘good streak’ in awhile.

She had hoped that maybe there would be no more midnight bailouts, no more drunken fights, no more wild ideas and uncontrollable energy, no more fear that he would climb so high that the crash just may end him. That fear still chills her blood and keeps her awake more nights than she cares to count.

She knows it’s not his fault. She has never held his condition against him. She loves him. Have loved him for so long… If anything, his determination and grit has made her love him more. The fact that he gets up every day and tries, makes her so proud. It doesn’t matter to her that he only works part time, or that he doesn’t clean the apartment, or pay the bills. All that mattered was that he loved her and he was trying.

To get better.

To be better.

And they had been doing so good.

She is afraid for him. For what a switch could do. If it’s what they have to do, she’ll do it, but she wants it to be as smooth a transition as she can make it. So she makes sure the doctor understands where they’ve been before. She’s turning down medicines he’s been on, one’s they can’t afford, and some that just scare the living lights out of her.

In her peripheral vision she sees Ree’s gaze wander to the wall, resuming his tapping. He’s tuning the conversation out. She feels her throat tighten a bit because she wants him to care but she understands that some things are just up to her to handle.

This is one of them, apparently.

#mental disorder #fiction #raising awareness

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orbemnews · 3 years ago

Link

Unemployment Pay May Again Require a Job Search. Is It Too Soon? A tenet of the American unemployment system has been that anyone collecting benefits, in good times and bad, must look for work. That quid pro quo changed early in the pandemic. Profound fears of contagion and the sudden need for millions of workers to become caregivers led states to lift the requirements for reasons both practical and compassionate. But as vaccinations increase and the economy revs back to life, more than half of all states have revived their work search requirements. Arkansas and Louisiana did so months ago in an effort to push workers off their swollen unemployment rolls. Others, like Vermont and Kentucky, have followed in the last few weeks. The rest may be on the way. President Biden on Monday ordered the Labor Department to “work with the remaining states, as health and safety conditions allow,” to put such requirements in place as the pandemic abates. Employers may welcome the moves as potentially enlarging the pool of job seekers. But for many workers, the search obligation is a premature declaration that the world has returned to normal even as legitimate concerns persist about contracting the virus and about child care constraints. “The work search thing is just a mess,” said Tyler Evans, 34, who lost his job of nearly four years at a restaurant in downtown Nashville early in the pandemic. Mr. Evans’s doctor has not cleared him for work, warning him that he faced extra risk from the coronavirus because he has an autoimmune disease. According to Tennessee, however, Mr. Evans must complete three job search activities a week to remain eligible for unemployment benefits. When he explained his situation to people at the State Labor Department, they suggested that he just say he had looked for work, because the state’s system had no way to account for health cases like his. Instead, Mr. Evans has diligently applied to jobs every week — even though he wouldn’t be able to accept any of them. “I would say one out of four times, someone would give me a call back,” he said. “And I would have to say, ‘Oh, I actually can’t work for you for health reasons, but the Department of Labor asked that I do this anyway.’” Research suggests that work search requirements of some form in normal economic times can compel workers to find their next job and reduce their time on unemployment. But the pandemic has added a new layer to a debate over how to balance relief with the presumption that joblessness is only transitory. Most states cut off unemployment benefits after 26 weeks. Business groups say bringing back work search requirements will help juice the labor market and dissuade workers from waiting to return to their old employers or holding out for remote or better-paying jobs. Opponents contend that the mandate keeps undue numbers of Americans from continuing to receive needed benefits because it can be hard to meet the sometimes arduous requirements, including documenting the search efforts. And they say workers may be forced to apply for and accept lower-paying or less-satisfying jobs at a time when the pandemic has caused some to reassess the way they think about their work, their family needs and their prospects. “I think the work search requirement is necessary as an economist,” said Marta Lachowska, an economist at the W.E. Upjohn Institute for Employment Research in Kalamazoo, Mich., who has studied the effects of work search requirements on employment. But she added, “Perhaps given the big disruption we have observed to the labor market, people should be given some slack.” In Washington, the issue has become part of a larger clash over jobless benefits that intensified after the disappointing April jobs report, with Republicans asserting that Mr. Biden’s policies are deterring people from looking for work and holding back the economic recovery. A rising number of Republican governors have taken matters into their own hands, moving to end a weekly $300 unemployment supplement and other federally funded emergency assistance that otherwise isn’t due to expire until September. Mr. Biden has rebuffed the criticism of his economic recovery plan. But his embrace of work search requirements — more than a year after the federal government directed states to waive them — has made the practice a pillar in the effort to revitalize the economy. Tim Goodrich, the executive director for state government relations at the National Federation of Independent Business, said his members had complained that they were having trouble filling open positions — a challenge that restoring work search requirements may help alleviate. “They are seeing a lack of applicants, so a job search is certainly helpful,” Mr. Goodrich said. Job openings rose in March to 8.1 million, the Labor Department reported on Tuesday, yet there are more than eight million fewer people working than before the pandemic. Economists ascribe some of the incongruity to a temporary mismatch between the jobs on offer and the skills or background of those looking for work. They say that in a recovering labor market like the current one, there may not be enough suitable jobs for people seeking re-employment, which can frustrate workers and drive them to apply to positions haphazardly. That has been the case for Rie Wilson, 45, who worked in venue sales for a nonprofit in New York City before she lost her job last summer. To fulfill New York’s work search requirement, which generally makes unemployment applicants complete at least three job search activities each week, Ms. Wilson has had to apply for positions she would not typically consider, like administrative assistant jobs, she said. The prospect of accepting such a job makes her anxious. “There is always a thought in my mind that, ‘Well, what if I do get pulled in this direction just because I’m being forced to apply for these jobs? What does that look like for my career?’” she said. The process has been time-consuming, she said, “and it’s also a mental wear and tear because you’re literally pulled from all angles in a very stressful situation.” Alexa Tapia, the unemployment insurance campaign coordinator at the National Employment Law Project, a worker advocacy group, said work search requirements “harm more than they help,” especially during the pandemic. In particular, she said, such requirements perpetuate systemic racism by trapping people of color, especially women, in underpaid work with fewer benefits. And she noted that people of color were more likely to be denied benefits on the basis of such requirements. With state unemployment offices already overtaxed, she added, work search requirements are “just another barrier being put to claimants, and it can be a very demoralizing barrier.” In states that have reinstated work search requirements, worker advocates say an especially frustrating obstacle has been a lack of guidance. Sue Berkowitz, the director of the South Carolina Appleseed Legal Justice Center, which works with low-income South Carolinians, said unemployed workers in the state largely wanted to go back to work. But the information on the state’s website about work search requirements is so confusing, she said, that she worries workers won’t understand it. Before the state reimposed the requirements last month, Ms. Berkowitz sent a marked-up copy of the proposed language to the chief of staff at the South Carolina Department of Employment and Workforce urging clarifications and changes. One of her biggest concerns was that the language as it stood was at a 12th-grade reading level, while the typical reading level of adult Americans is much lower. She did not hear back. “It was crickets,” she said. More broadly, employees in South Carolina, where the minimum wage is $7.25 an hour, can be reluctant to take a job that pays less than the one they had before the pandemic, Ms. Berkowitz said. “It’s not that they are below taking a job that makes a lot less, but their financial needs are high enough that they need to continue to make a certain salary,” she said. Although work search requirements have become a political issue, their restoration does not fall solely along partisan lines. Florida, for instance, where the Republican governor has repeatedly flouted virus restrictions, had kept the work search waiver in place before announcing recently that it would reinstate the requirement at the end of the month. But many other states, particularly Republican ones, have rushed to bring their work search requirements back. That is what Crista San Martin found when they left their job out of health concerns at a dog boarding facility in Cypress, Texas, which reinstated its work search requirement in November. Mx. San Martin, 27, who uses the pronouns they and them, said there were very few job openings near them in the pet care industry, making finding a position onerous. “That made it really difficult for me to log any work searches, because there simply weren’t enough jobs that I would actually want to take for my career,” they said. The first job they applied to was at a Panera, “which is not in my field of interest at all.” Above all, applying to arbitrary jobs felt risky, they said, because there was no way to assess potential employers’ Covid-19 safety protocols. Mx. San Martin has since returned to their old job. “It’s pretty unfair,” they said. “Going out and just casting a wide net and seeing whether a random business will take you is not safe.” Source link Orbem News #Job #pay #require #Search #Unemployment

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zloyodessit · 4 years ago

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Navalny poisoning: GRU trace and Shoigu's ambitions

The trail of the Russian GRU military intelligence is becoming more and more evident.

While earlier the GRU involvement in Navalny poisoning was only one of the assumptions, a version, now we can confidently speak about the complicity of this particular intelligence agency in the attempt on the pocket opposition leader.

Head of the German intelligence Bruno Kahl recently said that Alexei Navalny had been poisoned with the agent from the Novichok group, which has a stronger effect than all other known subtypes.

According to German intelligence, the perpetrators hoped Navalny would die during on a plane, unable to get timely medical assistance. However, the pilot's move to do an emergency landing in Omsk, as well as the quick shot of atropine by Russian doctors, ultimately saved Navalny's life.

The involvement of the Russian special services in Navalny poisoning was never doubted as such. The only question remained, who exactly was who was behind the attempt. And for me personally, the GRU was the first agency that came to mind. Now the conclusion by the German intelligence makes the version the only viable one.

Over the past few years, we have witnessed a whole series of poisonings, with varying degrees of success, of Russia-loathed individuals living in Europe. There was an attempt on Bulgarian businessman Emilian Gebrev in 2015, as well as a hit on Sergey Skripal and his daughter in Salisbury in 2018. In both cases, it was novichok, the brainchild of Russian military labs, that was used as a poison. And in both cases it was GRU agents who used it.

In fact, the GRU enjoys a complete monopoly on the use of novichok so and no other agency is able to get access to it without their knowledge. That's unless someone seeks to frame some rivals as part of interagency squabbles...

Of course, in this case I mean the FSB, which for a long time patronized Alexei Navalny and could use the sacred victim in the face of a prominent oppo figure Navalny for its double game. However, this option, which I also considered earlier, turns out to be inviable, since Navalny was poisoned by a new, stronger type of novichok, which could only be developed in the Russian military labs and whose use could only be authorized within the GRU.

Moreover, the use of this kind of poison is so limited that over the past period only operatives with a single GRU unit, No.29155, led by Major General Andrei Averyanov.l, who had actual access to it.

But if this is so and the version with the GRU's participation in the attempt is confirmed, the question arises - why did they have to try to kill an opposition figure who for many years had played the role of a brake on protest moods?

The issue is perhaps one of the most important ones. After all, if the FSB, which patronized Navalny, was involved in his poisoning, their only benefit could have been in creating a sacred victim image, ou to bring new puppet heroes to the forefront of the “fight against dictatorial power”. But, as we already know, the FSB was not involved in the case. The only way they did get involved was to provide access to Navalny for trustworthy medics.

In turn, the unambiguous trace of the GRU that's been exposed dots the i's in this complicated case.

Earlier, I wrote that Navalny's employers (FSB) tried to integrate him into the protests in the Khabarovsk Territory in order to tone them down a notch. In principle, that's a classical task for Navalny throughout his long-term career, his main mission - to skilfully level protest moods

But the Khabarovsk protest is a project led by the GRU and the elites grouped around it, which in fact have taken control of an entire region and are cultivating a specific “Russian riot” attitudes there. The effort to penetrate these protests with Navalny's presence, which promised to kill the entire project, could not be afforded by the GRU masterminds, and therefore Major General Averyanov's operatives were involved.

However, the operation to eliminate Alexei Navalny was aimed not only at what we see on the surface.

When such decisions are made, all the consequences are calculated in detail. And the one who made the decision to eliminate the opposition figure understood perfectly well that his death would entail yet another international scandal, a blow to Russia's authority and the image of it's leadership, primarily in the person of Vladimir Putin. It would also entail another wave of sanctions and, of course, another demonization of the FSB.

And the decision has been made because the customer was perfectly okay with all these negative consequences. I'm talking about Sergei Shoigu and the political and financial elites rallying around him. Neither Putin, nor Bortnikov, nor Naryshkin, nor anyone else from the high offices to whom Navalny's activity was beneficial could make such an absurd decision. But the Minister of Defense, who saw himself in the near future as Putin's successor, but found himself in dispair after the count of Putin's presidential terms was reset in the amendments to the Constitution, starts a dirty and harsh game, a game of survival. It's either he or they.

But, once again in a meticulous and well-coordinated GRU plan, something went wrong, namely, the victim survived, again. Moreover, not only did the victim survive, he was also evacuated to Germany with the subsequent clarification of the source of poisoning, the origin of the poison, and all that international publicity, exposing a distinct, deep trail of the GRU. And not even so much of the GRU as of the ambitions that Sergei Shoigu conceals in relation to presidency and, in general, his dominance across vast Russian regions.

And therefore, who knows, perhaps the poisoning of Alexei Navalny will actually launch a much more serious flywheel of developments within Russia than another series of international “toxic” scandal in the endless series courtesy military unit 29155...

https://medium.com/@zloyodessit2.0/navalny-poisoning-gru-trace-and-shoigus-ambitions-3184107abe78

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heebiejbies · 7 years ago

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Deranged: Innocence

Deranged Mini-Masterlist

Characters: Baekhyun and Chen

Warnings: Some vulgar language, mentions of many forms of abuse (this particular part mentions sexual, verbal, and some physical), mental health issues, etc.

Word Count: 4.2k

“I envy Baekhyun sometimes… I wish it were me that could only remember good things. I can’t remember a lot of things, but not nearly enough for me to ever be okay. Yet, as envious as I am, I’m happy that he’s the one who only remembers the good. I’d rather take the burden than him. Does that make sense?”

Byun Baekhyun - Little aka child alter. 6 years of age, now 7. The innocent part of Suho. Only has memories of a happy childhood thus far. Looks up to Chanyeol as a big brother.

If I wanted an unbiased look at who these allegedly dead alters were, I knew I had to ask the most honest and forward person in Suho’s system—Baekhyun. They say children never lie, that makes Baehyun the best one to ask. It may take him a bit to get around to opening up about them, but D.O. wouldn’t do anything but give me cryptic messages and the others could lie about them all together.

“Ms. (L/N)! I missed you so much!” Baekhyun skipped into my office and over to my desk where he hopped up in my lap. Despite him not actually being the size of a 6—now 7-year-old boy—he wasn’t as heavy as you would think.

“I missed you too, sweetie. How have you been?” He picked up one of the pens laying on my desk and grabbed a blank piece of paper, he then began to doodle on the paper. “I’ve been tired lately. I think Mr. Suho hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately, we are all so tired,” He let out a yawn, “No matter how much sleep we get, we are tired.”

I ran my fingers through the back of his hair, “Why do you think he hasn’t been getting enough sleep?” Baekhyun looked at me for clarification, “Do you think there’s a reason he hasn’t been sleeping?”

He didn’t reply, instead focusing on whatever it was that he was doodling on the paper. I attempted to look past him to see what he was doodling, but he flipped the paper over before I could see, “No! It’s not finished, silly!” He giggled, “May I use your crayons?” I nodded and opened my desk drawer and grabbed the box of crayons. He took the red crayon and began to use it.

“He thinks about you a lot.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Suho,” He giggled again, “I think he likes you~” He said in a sing-song voice.

“W-wow, okay. What makes you say that?” As I said before, they say children never lie. I knew Baekhyun enough to knew that he wouldn’t say things like that for no reason. Maybe Suho has actually talked about me, just not to D.O.? D.O. knows everything, though. Surely he would know if Suho really did like me.

“I can’t just tell. Yeollie and Kai actually talked about it once before. Yeollie said something about Kai not yelling at you as much because it may ruin Suho’s relationship with you. When Kai said there was no relationship, D.O. came in and said that Chanyeol was right and that Kai could ruin any prospects of a relationship,” He stopped doodling to turn and look at me, “What does prospects mean, Ms. (L/N)?”

“The possibility of something happening.”

“Oh! That makes sense. Mr. Suho heard them and his face turned so red, it was cute~ I’ve never seen him like that before, all thanks to Yeollie mentioning yours and his relationship.” Okay, so Chanyeol reprimanded Kai for how much he lashed out at me and D.O. said it could ruin any chances of Suho and me having a relationship? How long ago was this? If this was when we first met, the relationship they were referring to would probably be the normal doctor-patient one. Wait, no, if it was that long ago then Chanyeol wouldn’t have been on my side yet. It had to be recent. In that case, why would D.O. lie to me about it? He’s never lied before, why start now? Something isn’t adding up...

“Mr. Suho is a lot like my daddy. Does that mean you will be my mommy?” The words were caught in my throat, I couldn’t say anything in response to him. Rather that be because of his question, or the thoughts brewing in my head at the moment. The entire situation baffled me, especially learning that D.O. lied to me.

While Baekhyun went to the bathroom, I grabbed Suho’s file again and flipped to the separate section I had for D.O. I went down to the last thing I had written and wrote more.

... Despite that, says that he believes Suho does harbor some form of emotions towards me.

I made a note directly under that.

During a session with Baekhyun, he revealed information that lead me to the conclusion that D.O. has lied to me about what he knows and what has happened. A decision will be made at a later date as to if I should confront him or not about it.

When Baekhyun came back from the bathroom, he had a forlorn look on his face. Instead of coming back over to my desk, he went and sat down on the couch.

“Baekhyun, honey, are you alright?” I put the file away and stood up to go sit on the couch beside him. He shook his head, then when I sat beside him he spoke. “I remember for Mr. Suho’s birthday one year, his mommy and daddy took him on vacation and while he was playing on the beach he fell and cut his knee on a shell. His mommy took him to the room they were staying in and gave him a band-aid and cleaned him up. She kissed him on the head and told him that she loved him and that he was the light of her life. Remembering that makes me sad… I wish I had a mommy. I want a mommy too. I want a mommy so she can tell me stories before I go to sleep at night, so she can make me feel better when I’m sick or hurt, so she can hug me and kiss me and tell me how much she loves me… Remembering his mommy doing those things for him makes me sad because I don’t have a mommy like he did.”

Oh, Baekhyun, if you only knew how his mother was during the times you don’t remember.

Suho actually told me about that day at the beach, during one of our sessions after I Baekhyun showed himself to me.

“My parents weren’t always abusive… Actually, there are a lot of times I can remember good things about them. It’s as if they were bipolar, they could be loving one minute and then hit me the next. For my fifth birthday one year, my parents and I went to the beach. I remember running on the beach and I tripped and fell on a seashell and it cut my knee. We went back to our condo and she disinfected my wound and patched me up. She even kissed my knee once she put the band-aid on. She told me, ‘You are the light of my life, I love you more than you will ever know.’” He took a minute to laugh at the memory, “The next day she slapped me for taking up so much of her time at the beach. The light of her life huh? Some light.”

“Suho is just like my daddy, but I want a mommy so badly!” His bottom lip quivered, a sign that he was attempting to stop himself from crying. “I want you to be my mommy, Ms. (L/N). You already care for Mr. Suho so much, just like a mommy would for a daddy. Can’t you be my mommy? Please?” What should I say? Would it be out of line to say yes? “I deserve a mommy too…” His statement didn’t seem to be directed at me, rather than reassurance to himself. I may regret this later but I can’t stand seeing him look so sad.

“I’ll be your mommy, Baekhyun.” His face brightened up, his eyes glistened with tears of happiness. “Do you mean it?” I nodded. “Oh thank you thank you Ms. (L/N)! I have a mommy now, I’m so happy!” He wrapped his arms around my neck and snuggled into my body. In attempts to make myself more comfortable with him hugging me, I moved my back against the armrest of the couch and moved my legs up to stretch across the couch. Baekhyun situated himself so he was more comfortable, then he began humming to himself.

“May I ask you a question?” It’s time to ask about the other three.

“Of course, mommy!”

“Is there anyone in Suho’s system that is no longer there but once was?” He seemed to be thinking about his response. Maybe he never met them or just doesn’t remember them? If so, I’m going to have to start from square one and change my approach.

“Lulu…” He whimpered out a nickname, one that I assumed was for the alter Luhan. “I miss Lulu, mommy… He’s been gone for so long. He… He pinky promised me he wouldn’t be gone forever, but he broke it!”

“Can you tell me about him?” He seemed to dwell on my question, his eyes fell on the sky outside, they glazed over as if he were fighting sleep. He laid his head against my chest and let out a sigh, “Mr. Suho is Sehun’s older brother. Luhan was my older brother.” Wait… What? “Yeollie is like my big brother, but Lulu is my real big brother. Yeollie and Lulu both took care of me and stood up for me, but since Lulu left Yeollie has been standing up for me more. Yeollie has taken Lulu’s place for me, but I still miss him… Was it my fault that he left? How could he leave me? How could he leave his little Baekie? Did he not want me anymore?”

Luhan is Baekhyun’s brother? Like Sehun is—was to Suho? Alters can be related to one another? I don’t see why they couldn’t, but this is unheard of for me. I haven’t come across a case talking about alters being related. I’ve read many cases involving D.I.D, but this is new to me. Baekhyun sniffling pulled me from my thoughts. I wrapped my arm around him and rubbed his back, “I know Luhan had his reasons for leaving. He promised to be back, didn’t he? He will be back one day, I’m sure of it.” I hope. “You’re just too cute to not have around, he’s missing you like crazy right now. I know that for a fact.”

Okay, so all but Baekhyun say that the unknown three alters are dead? Luhan promised him he would be back? Did this Luhan alter somehow know?

“Baekhyun, did Luhan mention why he had to leave?” He nodded his head ‘yes’. “Can you tell me why?” He shook his head ‘no’. “Why?”

“He told me not to tell anyone.”

“Who? Luhan?” Why would Luhan tell him that?

“Nuh-uh. D.O.” Wait, D.O. told him this? Why? Why would that information need to be kept from everyone? Just what role does D.O. have in this situation? Aish! Why is it that when I think I solve one puzzle, another one shows up?

“Thank you, mommy. I’m happy I have you. You’re making me feel better already!” He said enthusiastically, despite that, a hint of sorrow still in his voice. “I love you, mommy. You love me, right?” His usual happy self had disappeared now, the topic of Luhan clearly putting a damper on his mood.

“Of course I love you, Baek. Never forget that, okay?” He had fallen asleep before he could reply, he had my necklace clasped in his hand. I waited a few minutes before moving, making sure he was asleep enough so I wouldn’t wake him up. I went back over to my desk and opened Suho’s file. Then, I began writing down what I had learned about Luhan thus far.

Lu Han - Alias is Luhan. Age and type of alter still unknown. Baekhyun’s supposed ‘actual’ older brother. Promised Baekhyun that he would be back, then left and hasn’t returned since. Baekhyun said that D.O. told him not to tell anyone where Luhan said he was going.

I then turned back so I could add notes onto D.O.’s information.

D.O. has twice lied to me now, making me question if he’s lied about anything else previously. So far, aside from what he mentioned about Suho’s feelings towards me and the whereabouts of Luhan in particular, everything has seemed to check out. Though, could he be covering his lies well? I no longer believe him with what he said about the trio being dead, but Suho said they were dead as well and I know I can trust Suho. D.O. has lost all credibility for being reliable, I have to confront him during our next session. What role does he have in the disappearance/death of Luhan? Or, could he be responsible for all three?

Finally, I added to Suho’s information.

In regards to his personal feelings towards me, I found out that a few of the alters (Chanyeol, Kai, and D.O.) had spoken about his feelings towards me. A romantic interest wasn’t flat out said, but it was strongly implied. Although he said that he didn’t know if Suho harbored any feelings for me (though, he did say he assumed it to be true) it has been revealed that he lied. While Chanyeol and Kai were arguing about the matter, D.O. stepped in. I may have to talk to Chanyeol about this, I no longer wish to ask D.O. for anything.

I looked over to the couch to watch Baekhyun sleep. He’s innocent, he’s so innocent… He means so much to Suho, hell who am I kidding he means a lot to me at this point. Ever since I discovered his existence in Suho’s system, I’ve felt this unknown pull towards him. What do they call it, motherly instincts?

Shortly afterward, Baekhyun started stirring on the couch. I heard him whine, “Mommy.”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m here,” I called out to him. I started to put the file away before he got up and came over to my desk. He trudged over to my desk, then sat in my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Mommy, I’m still so tired!” He nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair to comfort him, “Maybe you should go home and go to bed?”

“No! I want to stay here with my mommy!” He retorted. His tone surprised me, but I brushed it off as him just being cranky from waking up from his nap. I didn’t realize something was wrong until I felt him nibble on my neck. I immediately pulled him away from me and stood up from my chair, “What are you doing, Baekhyun? You don’t do that!”

“But mommy!” He grabbed my arms and pushed me down onto my desk, “I’ve been a bad boy, you need to punish me!” Baekhyun isn’t this strong, Baekhyun is too young and innocent to know of these things. Is this… Wait.

“Chen!”

“Awh, you caught me, mommy! I’m not Baekhyun, so sad. But that means it’s okay to do this,” He giggled, then sat down on my chair and pulled my body from my desk to his lap, “Isn’t it scandalous? Sleeping with a patient? Oh! Sleeping with my therapist turns me on so much!”

“You’ll be my mommy too, right? A boy needs his mommy~ I promise I will be good, but you’ll have to s-” I finally managed to escape his grasp, I turned the tables and pinned him down to my desk by his neck and arms. He didn’t get to finish his sentence, and he didn’t try to finish it either.

“What is wrong with you? I thought you were Baekhyun! That’s disgusting! Why would you pretend to be him?! A child?!” How damn twisted is this guy?! He pretended to be a child and made sexual advances at me! How sick! I knew Chen was messed up, but I didn’t know he was this messed up. He didn’t reply to me, so I released him and let him collect himself. He wandered around my office, then choosing to sit in one of the chairs in front of my desk. I sat back in my chair and clasped my hands together on top of my desk—waiting for him to speak.

“Why?” He broke the silence with one word.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you want me? I mean,” He scoffed, “Physically I am Suho to you, I know you want to fuck him. I can pretend to be him, you can call me Suho all you want! Dammit! Women in power like you have always wanted me! She never missed an opportunity to have me, so why are you different? Why will you not just fuck me and get it over with already?” She? Ah, yes, she. He stemmed mostly from her sexually abusing Suho. Is this how he handled it? Just waited for it to be over? He expects this, he expects this from me. I know I’ve only met him once, but I need to shake him out of his misconstrued thoughts.

“Chen, no, that’s not how this is at all. I know you endured her sexual abuse for Suho, but believe me when I tell you that most people are not like that. They wouldn’t see you as a sex toy, they wouldn’t want you for just sex, I can’t blame you for how you are but I want you to understand that you need to pull yourself out of this mindset. Me not wanting to sleep with you has nothing to do with you or Suho, I’m not looking for that from either of you.

As for you physically being Suho, that’s as far as your similarities go. You just like everyone in Suho’s system are your own unique individual. You are just physically in one person. Of course, you know alters can perceive themselves differently than whoever’s system they are in. Kai has very sun-kissed skin and Chanyeol is very tall. Are you following me?” Come to think of it, all of Suho’s alters that I know well have their own perception of themselves. Of course, Sehun sees himself as the actual Sehun so that is a slightly different case, but it is still different.

“And Baekhyun sees himself as a child?”

“Yes, exactly. He sees himself as a 7-year-old boy, do you see how you all differ from Suho now?” He nodded his head in response. I began to wonder if he saw himself physically different than Suho. All of Suho’s alters that I know thus far do, but Chen and the other new alters I’m not too sure about. Another thing that confuses me is the appearance of the new three. Chen, Lay, and Xiumin are all relatively new alters. I’ve been seeing Suho nearly a year now, what took them so long to appear? Did something trigger their appearance?

Suho’s file sitting in my half-closed desk drawer caught my attention. I opened it just enough to pull the file out, then opened it up and looked at my information on Chen

Kim Jongdae - Alias is Chen. Sexual alter. Age 25. Likely created to deal with the years of sexual abuse. Very low self esteem. Craves sex and seems himself as nothing but a sex toy. Further sessions needed to understand more.

Something about Baekhyun triggers Chen to take control. The first time I met him, I met him immediately after Baekhyun had been in control. I know that Baekhyun represents the innocent part of Suho, what does Chen represent?

“Chen, if you are alright with me asking, may I ask you some questions about the past? The things you’ve seen, experienced, so on and so forth?” It took a bit of debating, but I managed to get him to say yes. I had him lay down on the couch so he could relax, then I began my session. “Can you recall the first memory you have of the abuse?”

“Yes, I think so. He was 12 I think, I was 11 then. It started with his father first. That night he came into his room and he,” He took a deep breath in, “He got in the bed, and he started touching me. H-he just-” He winced as if he were in pain, so I interrupted him.

“How far did he go?”

“Just touching then, that was it. He went further a couple of months later… Then she picked up after him.” He told the story about how she came to comfort him after the father had abused him, and he thought that she was going to do something about it. Instead, she used that opportunity to prey on him just like the father. What kind of disgusting people are these two? How could they do this to their own son? Their own son, their own helpless, defenseless son?

“H-He would call me ‘sissy boy’ and when I would cry, he would hit me and tell me that crying showed how weak I was… And when she did it, she would… Praise me. As if I were doing something… She would tell me how much of a good boy I was for being quiet, but what could I do? I thought she was there to protect us, but she took advantage of that…”

Then the conversation switched to Suho. “I’m worried for him… He’s had no relationship with anyone in his lifetime, but I’m worried that one day if and when he finds a girlfriend, it will awaken these memories. I’ve done my best to block them from his mind completely, but what happens if she accidentally triggers something for him and he remembers everything? He can’t remember that.” He grabbed a tissue I handed to him and wiped his eyes, “He can’t break like that. Experiencing that will kill him. It killed me, I have all these images in my head and they will never go away. I’d rather me have to suffer them than him, but there’s always this fear that I won’t be able to suppress the memories long enough for him to have a happy relationship.”

Chen wasn’t the only alter who had worries about Suho’s personal relationships. Thus far, D.O. and Chanyeol have also expressed their worries. People with D.I.D could have very strong and stable relationships, but in Suho’s case, I’m not quite sure where his mental state lies at this point. With these newfound alters and the still unawakened three other alters, his case could be worse than I originally intended.

“Hey, listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” Mine and Chen’s eyes found one another, the lust filled gaze he had before now replaced with a much more meek one, “I shouldn’t have pretended to be Baekhyun. I know how much you care for the kid, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that. He’s innocent, he’s done nothing bad to anyone. I envy him for that part... I’m also sorry for what I said about you and Suho, that was out of line.” He broke our gaze so he could look around the room. Then, something strange happened. The same painting that had once captivated Suho many months before now captivated Chen.

“Chen, how do you interpret that picture?”

“How do you interpret this photo, Suho?”

“They are… They’re scared.”

“Afraid? Shocked maybe?”

“They’re clearly scared, but everyone and everything around him are ignoring his pleas for help. As if they don’t care.”

“It’s like they’re trapped in their own mind and it’s terrifying them. As if they are shocked by what’s in their own mind.”

“I interpret it as a reflection of myself.”

That’s it. That’s what connects the two of them together. That’s why he brings out Chen! Once I was alone again, I opened up a new page on Suho’s file to start a new section for my recent findings.

… Craves sex and seems himself as nothing but a sex toy. Further sessions needed to understand more.

I made a new line under that.

I’ve found that something about Baekhyun brings out the alter Chen. After a long session with the latter, I finally figured out what it is that makes Baekhyun bring out Chen. Baekhyun represents innocence. Chen represents the exact opposite of that.

Chen represents the corruption of innocence.

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superwholock-marvel-images · 7 years ago

Text

Through Time and Space (part four)

part one, part two, part three

You’re talking to Sam and Katie when you hear the gunfire. “I’ll be back… hopefully.” You say before getting up and walking to the living room where the gunfire happened… it’s only Sherlock shooting a smiley face he painted on the wall, just because he is bored. As Sherlock fires another round into the wall John comes running up the stairs with his fingers in his ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” John yells.

“Bored.” Sherlock replies rather sulkily.

“What?”

“Bored!” Sherlock fires a few more rounds while yelling bored two more times. John somehow gets the gun away from Sherlock before removing the clip. You roll your eyes before heading back to your room where you were talking to your siblings.

“What was that about?” Sam asks when you sit back down.

“Sherlock started shooting a smiley face on the wall.” You reply.

“Why was he shooting the wall in the first place?”

“He was doing it out of boredom.”

“Are you sure that you should be staying there?” Cue the overprotective older siblings. You roll your eyes.

“Just because one my flatmates shoots the wall when he’s bored doesn’t mean that I’m going to leave like that.” You snap your fingers when you say ‘that’.

“He could’ve shot you though.” Katie counters.

“If I did get shot, my other flatmate is a doctor. I’m in good hands, Katie.” You reply, your slight British accent starts to poke through. Recently, you noticed that your accent comes through when you are emotional. Sam starts laughing.

“What?”

“You have an accent.” He answers.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

"Sherlock! Why is there a head of a vampire in the fridge?!" You shout upon opening the fridge.

"A what now?" Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother asks.

"There's a head in the fridge Mycroft." You deadpan.

John comes running up the stairs asking if you and Sherlock are okay. “Are you alright John?” You ask.

“I just saw on the telly about the explosion near our flat.”

“Oh… they said it was a gas leak and no one got hurt.”

“Your shirt is singed slightly.” John points out.

“It’s been like that since the day I got it. This is a second-hand shirt.”

“From your sister I presume.” Sherlock points out.

“Originally Dean’s but Katie was the one that gave it to me.” You answer. “I swear you know more about me then I know about myself.” After a little bit, Mycroft takes his leave.

“Are you going to explain why you said vampire?” Sherlock asks getting out of his seat and walking over to you.

“If you grab the head I’ll show you.” You answer, Sherlock does so and sets the head on the table- John has a disgusted look on his face. “For one thing I noticed this.” You say as you show the consulting detective the vampire’s fangs.

“How did I miss those?” Sherlock questions.

“They’re easy to miss. That’s how vampires pass as human. Anyways if you look at where the neck used to be, it’s a clean cut.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means the hunter that did this has hunted vampires before. If it was an amateur, it would look like a kindergartner’s art project.”

“So uneven?” Sherlock asks trying to follow your train of thought.

“Yup.” Sherlock looks rather intrigued. “Now here’s the thing most hunters are careful enough to depose all of the bodies and the heads… this hunter missed a head.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You, Sherlock and John, are at Scotland Yard following Lestrade to his office. “You like the funny cases, don’t you?” Lestrade asks. “The surprising ones.”

“Obviously.” Sherlock answers with a monotone voice, but you can see it in his eyes- his interest has been piqued.

“You’ll love this. That explosion…” Donovan walks by causing Sherlock to throw her a dirty look.

“Gas leak right?” Sherlock asks looking back at Lestrade.

“No.” The three of you look surprised at the detective’s response. Lestrade opens the door to his office. Inviting the three of you in.

“No?”

“No, made to look like one.”

“What?” John splutters. Lestrade gestures to the envelope on his desk. It has Sherlock’s name handwritten on it.

“Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box – and inside it was this.” Lestrade explains.

“You haven’t opened it?” Sherlock inquires.

“It’s addressed to you, isn’t it?” Sherlock reaches for the envelope then hesitates. “We’ve X-rayed it. It’s not booby-trapped.”

“How reassuring.” Sherlock then picks it up studying it. “Nice stationery. Bohemian.” Lestrade asks for clarification. “From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?”

“No.” Lestrade replies. Sherlock studies the handwriting.

“She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib.”

“Deduce that from the cursive?” You ask. Sherlock chooses to ignore you. Sherlock then opens the envelope to find an exact replica of the phone from the woman in the pink case. Lestrade refers to that case as the study in pink. “The what now?”

“You haven’t read John’s blog?” Lestrade asks sounding surprised. You arch an eyebrow.

“I didn’t even know John had a blog.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You find out that the sneakers Sherlock found in 221c (Mrs. Hudson’s basement) belonged to a person named Carl Powers- Sherlock’s very first case.

“Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid – a champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident.” Sherlock says showing you and John an old newspaper headline on his phone. “You wouldn’t remember it. Why should you?”

“But you do…” You comment. Sherlock nods. “So there wasn’t anything suspicious about it then?”

“Nobody thought so – nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers.”

“Started young, didn’t you?” John jokes. Sherlock ignores his comment.

“The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“What?”

“His shoes.”

“You’ve lost me.” You state.

“They weren’t there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes …” Sherlock then gestures to the bag that is holding the sneakers. “Until now.”

While Sherlock is busy figuring out the case, John has to go pay a visit to Mycroft. You, on the other hand, was helping Katie do research for a hunt, but you’re distracted and can’t really focus on anything. “Y/N?” Katie asks.

“Hmm?” You answer not really paying any attention.

“What’s going on, you’re never like this.” You sigh, looking at your computer screen.

“I’m just distracted at the moment. There is a psychopath running around London…”

“Other than your roommate?”

“Sherlock isn’t a psychopath sis. He’s more of a sociopath… also, Sherlock doesn’t strap people to bombs when he’s bored.” You stare down at the keyboard, fighting back tears. “Katie, I’m scared.” Normally you don’t tell anyone that you’re scared, but your siblings are the only exceptions.

“I don’t know what I can do… I mean you’re on the other side of the world (nickname).” You just nod in response.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

A little later you get back to the flat carrying a small bag of Chinese food. You hear Sherlock yelling at the TV. ‘Is Sherlock watching Star Wars?’ You think to yourself.

You don’t really recall what happened before you ended up at the pool with John… John’s strapped to a bomb, and you have a sniper pointing his gun at your chest. When Sherlock shows up, you see his look of terror when he sees John. John removes the jacket revealing the bomb to Sherlock. Sherlock looks a little relieved but he is still wary of John for now. John narrates a few things through an earpiece. “I can stop John Watson and Y/N Winchester too… stop their hearts.” John says flinching slightly.

Now you’ve never been one for rules. So when it’s your turn to speak you do not follow the script. You actually pull the earpiece out of your ear and then throw it into the pool shorting it out. “I am not going to be someone’s goddamned puppet.” You state.

“Y/N look out!” Sherlock shouts, you see the bullet and move out of the way at the last second. The bullet embeds itself into the wall. You then walk over to Sherlock and John. The man named Moriarty eventually comes out. That is an interesting conversation, to say the least. While Sherlock is taking off the bomb attached to John, your arm brushes against your side causing you to hiss softly.

Your side got grazed by that sniper bullet.

“Son of a bitch.” You say through clenched teeth.

“Y/N?” Sherlock asks looking up from what he is doing.

“Even though I got mostly out of the way, the bullet still grazed my side… it's not bleeding too much though.”

“I’ll take a look at it when all this junk off of me.” John says as Sherlock removes the earpiece. John doesn’t get to look at your injury right away Moriarty just came back.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You flinch as John rubs some rubbing alcohol on your side. “Sorry.” He apologizes.

“It wasn’t you, it just stings.” You answer feeling a little exposed. All you’re wearing at the moment is a pair of jeans and your bra. “One would think that I would be somewhat used to this, considering how many times I’ve gotten hurt while hunting. Well then again my family cleans wounds with whiskey…”

“Did you guys drink it or was it strictly for first aid purposes?” John asks as he threads a needle, your injury is deep enough that you do need stitches for it.

“It was used as both.” You grimace as John starts stitching your side up. Sherlock walks into the kitchen not paying much heed to the fact you’re currently topless. Then again he’s only in a bed sheet. “Morning Sherlock.”

“Morning.” Sherlock yawns, you take a wild guess that today is going to be incredibly lazy. Since Sherlock had become incredibly popular via the internet he asks John to go to a crime scene after he was done patching you up. Sherlock also insists that John takes his laptop. Once John is done stitching your side up you put on a tank top as John heads out.

You can’t really do anything at the moment because John doesn’t want you to pop the stitches. It’s a little odd that you and Sherlock get an escort of sorts to somewhere, that somewhere just happens to be Buckingham Palace. John’s already there waiting for the two of you. “Are you wearing any pants?” He asks Sherlock once the three of you are sitting down on a nearby couch.

“No.” Sherlock answers before the three of you start to crack up. The three of you make some small talk for a little bit.

“What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?” John asks. Sherlock admits he doesn’t know something. “Here to see the queen?” John just happens to ask as Mycroft enters.

“Oh, apparently yes.” Once again the three of you start to laugh. Mycroft doesn’t look amused.

“Just once, can you three behave like grown-ups?” Mycroft demands.

“We solve crimes. I blog about them, he forgets his pants, and she’s the queen of sass, so I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.” John points out with a grin. Once all the laughter has quieted down Mycroft offers Sherlock some clothes… Sherlock doesn’t pay any attention to his brother.

“We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation.” Mycroft then sternly adds: “Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on.” Sherlock literally gets up to leave with a few words towards Mycroft.

“Good morning.” Sherlock states as he starts to walk away- only to have his brother stand on his sheet. That wasn’t a sight you needed to see this early- thankfully the consulting detective catches the sheet before it hits the ground completely. Eventually, Mycroft wins and Sherlock reluctantly gets dressed. Sherlock asks why didn’t Mycroft go to the secret service and if he trusts them.

“Naturally not.” The eldest Holmes replies. “They all spy on people for money.” You and John share a small smile. Apparently, the two of you were on Mycroft’s list of trustworthy people.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

The doorbell rings and the people at the door are the Doctor and Rose. In all honesty, you’re glad to see them- you need to get away for a little bit. Your flatmates are good people, they just get on your nerves- Sherlock being the main culprit. “Don’t tear those stitches out Y/N.” John states.

“Relax I won’t.” You reply.

“Stitches?” Rose asks.

“Long story short I got shot.” Rose just sighs in response.

“You’re a danger to yourself Y/N.”

“I know Rose. Let’s go before Sherlock drags me in on another case.” With that, the three of you take your leave.

→ ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← →

@the-third-winchester-warrior

@flannels-and-rocksalt

@always-keep-writing-spn

@winchesters-favorite-girl

@caroldanversinatardis

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nastymomcomic · 8 years ago

Text

Totally sort of on hiatus, but WAIT

I left off on a note that I wasn’t doing good. So here’s what’s up. I quit my job that I hated and that hated me and it was killing me going there. Honestly the entire experience there could be a comic in of itself. I started changing almost instantly after starting there and my SO brought that to my attention close to when I decided to quit. My anxiety was through the roof, I was getting physically ill from it. It’s been about three months since I quit and I actually feel much better than I did.

The decision to quit came around the end of Christmas season (aka retail hell), my stress level hit it’s max. With work and with how things are at home, I became suicidal and started breaking my things instead of hurting myself. (On a side note I discovered I have a deep raspy yelling voice that would be perfect for an anime character)

(This is kind of long so I’ll put one of those read more thingies)

I talked with my SO about it and I agreed to quit the job, get back on my anxiety medication , and get back into steady therapy. (I was given a new counselor and hadn’t been able to make it to therapy because of work.) Shortly after I started becoming viciously sick around my period, turns out I just have extremely bad pms to the point ai throw up and become Dr. Jekyll Mr. Hyde. It is horrible. I didn’t figure it was my period until recently though, for a while I thought I was bipolar or had the flu, even pregnant. Nope, it was just pms. I had no idea how common that is for women until it happened to me.

With the job, I had a lady curse me out because I had to charge her for 10 cent bag that she wanted a giant barrel of pretzels put into, which didn’t fit anyway. That wasn’t even my worst customer by far, but it’s definitely my favorite story to tell. (There will definitely be an episode about that bitch.) I hurt my wrist the first month I worked there and my supervisor never made a report refused to report it, so I wasn’t seen by their doctor, and none of my managers or coworkers were notified of my injury, so my workload and tasks weren’t changed. I went to the my doctor before quitting so I’d have the injury on record, he found it was a sprained wrist, and told me it wouldn’t heal because I’d been using it too much. (Which is why work is supposed to fucking change your work tasks when you have a fucking work related injury.) This same supervisor looked me up and down with the fucking stink eye during my interview and I knew she was going to be a problem, and I wasn’t wrong.

I spent a good two months trying to figure out exactly how to report that my workplace refused to make report for my injury, but at the end of it I just wanted to quit and be done with all of it. This lady had definitely been acting like that way before I worked there, there’s no way the company or at least the other managers weren’t aware of what she does. As much as I would like to get her fired for being a gigantic asshole, it’s not my job to babysit women in their damn 50’s. And she definitely wasn’t the only deciding factor. Besides the shitty customers treating me like shit on a daily basis, I only had a handful of coworkers who were my saving grace there. They were awesome to work with and I genuinely looked forward to seeing them. But when they weren’t there, my calls would get ignored by my coworkers and managers, I’d find them all chilling out in the office, customers would be left waiting for over 30 minutes because no one wanted to answer me, it was just ridiculous. I could go on and on but I think my final straw was being told by a manager that I needed to “stop doodling” while at the register…. like fucking when??? I asked for clarification or a date on when I’d done such a thing and said manager refused to explain or anything.

I mean, that and when I changed my availability for health reasons. I was working full shifts and 4 days out of the week during peek Christmas season, and changed my availability to just one day a week. Car broke down and you know, I was suicidal and loosing my mind. I made sure to change my availability only after peek was over, but gave management a heads up so they had time to fill shifts. Shit supervisor was the one I had to talk to about it first and she said ‘You’re kidding me, you’re changing your availability during peek?” And I’d had enough of her shit so I sad=id back “No I’m changing it after peek next week, but I’m doing the considerate thing and notifying people now.”

Fucking bitch. Like wow I wrote it was for medical reasons, thank you so much for your fucking concern.

The ironic part was they said I was doing absolutely great, but I’d stopped giving all my fucks over a month ago and started half assing my job like the people who got all the credit for slacking off while others and myself did circles around them. Now that I stopped doing my job well, they liked me? lmfao hwwaaaaat? When I was busting my ass I was always told I was “straggling” and needed to do better. I just… how does that even work? forget it, I don’t work there anymore, it’s not my problem. I quit without giving two weeks notice. I wrote my resignation letter before my shift, and when my shift was done I quit on the spot. Shitty supervisor never looked happier. (lol I bet)

It was weird, that place had fast turnover, but also had people who had been working there for ears. (Shit supervisor had been working there 17+ years) And now I totally get why.

The minute I walked out of the break room knowing I never had to work there again, I felt a giant weight lifted from my entire body. It was absolutely amazing. Thing is, me not having that job doesn’t even make a dent in my income because it was so far away, it had shitty hours, and I was spending so much money on gas to get there. It was absolutely pointless. Now I can focus on things that actually benefit me and build my future.

So I’m back in therapy back on my meds, not having the life drained out of me, and Nmom has been in therapy for like 5 months now and she’s starting to actually be normal, it’s like she’s learning to manager her emotions or something. I don’t trust it, but it makes things a lot easier and I’ll take the quiet while I can get it. Bad news is my grandpa is in the hospital right now, he nearly died, had to have a pacemaker out in him. It’s been a big ordeal but it could be worse. SO things are changing for me again, someone has to be there for him and it’s actually going to be me and Nmom seeing as no one else will. Things are a bit up in the air but I know it could of been worse so I’m just thankful.

My SO is going to be moving soon to his own place and I’ll be living with him half of the week and the rest of the week with my mom and probably with my grandpa when he finally comes home. Honestly I am scared, but I’m also determined. I decided to go back to school, pay off bills, invest in things I need to do, and get back to what I love or I think my soul will die if I don’t.

The comic nasty mom will be back soon, and eventually, it will have to end as well. I’ve found that I tend to reopen wounds through my muse, so i need to find a way to really really, really make this comic for myself. I also tend to care about others more than myself, even in my art. I haven’t really been doing this comic for myself at all, I think I’ve been doing it for others more than for myself. And I need to change that. I’m glad my comic has been able to make others smile and laugh, and it definitely will continue to. But I need to change how I approach my art and life if I want to start taking care of myself seriously.

For now I’m going to start getting my feet wet again with my art and buy a new scanner because mine broke like 4 months ago, and the bastard gave me a bruise last week on my foot. (printers are evil!!!!) There will definitely be a lot of drawings and work sketches to show, so that’s good.

I just got on birth control last week and I’m starting to feel some of the changes and stuff. I’m taking care of my body and hopefully my pms doesn’t make me go crazy. Last week I cried because my SO bought me french fries, and an hour before that I wanted to throw my iced coffee at people because Starbucks mad it wring and I was already nauseated and I got more nauseated because there wasn’t enough creme…. yeah, I’m a mess ahahahah.

I’m doing a lot of soul searching for sure right now, but I’ll be back soon! And with more art! And possibly another comic for when this comic finishes! (Shhhh that part is a secret!)

Until next time, I’ll always reply to comments, and I have a ask box on my tumblr as well. I have tumblr and instagram so that should keep readers and friends a little entertained while I’m away!

#fuck retail #lel

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kacydeneen · 5 years ago

Text

Silicon Valley Parents Fear Kids at Risk From Dangerous Dust

The location of a new school in Silicon Valley is attracting heavy criticism from parents and air quality experts, who fear its close proximity to a concrete plant may pose serious and long-term health risks to students.

An NBC Bay Area Investigation reveals the approval process to build Stratford School, a private elementary and middle school, right next to the Tri City Rock concrete plant was the result of an unfortunate chain of events that included inaccurate permit applications, poor communication between government agencies, and other bureaucratic blunders.

Trump Nominates Aerospace Executive for Air Force Secretary

'A Giant Dust Cloud Came'

“I was playing at recess, and then a giant dust cloud came,” said Charlotte Tsui, an 8 year-old-student at Stratford. “The first time, I had no clue what it was … some of the kids start breathing really fast and start whimpering.”

DOJ Offers to Share Mueller Documents, Avoiding House Action

Tsui said plumes of dust occasionally blow onto the school playground from the adjacent concrete plant.

“It makes me nervous,” said 5-year-old Glen Wong, who feels responsible for protecting his classmates. “I run to everybody and then I warn them.”

Congress Joins Debate Over Sending TSA Employees to Border

The process of making concrete can send microscopic chemicals into the air, which can cause respiratory problems and heart disease, according to the federal government.

Eric Meng, 11, had to go to the doctor when some of the dust lodged in his eye.

“I became worried that it may become infected, and maybe I could have the potential to become blind,” Meng said, recalling doctors saying the dust scratched his eye. But the fifth grader said he healed without any long-term effects after a course of antibiotics.

The National Institutes of Health and several other federal agencies, including OSHA, CDC and the EPA have reported on the health hazards of dust from concrete manufacturing facilities. Ultra-fine particles in the dust can lodge into the lungs, ultimately traveling to the heart. As a result, exposure can cause respiratory problems and even lead to cardiac arrest.

'Dangerous Situation'

“Wow. It’s like right against it,” said Dr. Anthony Wexler, head of the air quality research center at UC Davis, as he looked at photos of the concrete plant abutting the school. “With it right up against next to it there … it's much more dangerous situation. The concentrations are going to be higher.”

While chronic exposure to concrete dust has been shown to be dangerous and even fatal for adults, Wexler said children are especially vulnerable.

“The lungs of children are growing,” he said. And there's been a number of studies showing that children who were exposed to air pollution when they were young, their lungs did not grow properly and they do not ... fully function when they reach adulthood.”

Wexler notes that even if kids and teachers are inside the school, they could be exposed to the potentially toxic dust since the school’s air circulation system may suck in air from the concrete facility.

“That outside air is going to have dust from this facility in it,” he said.

More than 30 Parents Share Health Concerns with NBC Bay Area

Many parents said they initially didn’t realize their children’s new school would be next to the concrete plant. While the school was being built, the plant looked as if it was part of the construction site, parents have argued. It wasn’t until the multimillion-dollar school opened in August when parents realized the plant was next door.

“I could smell the diesel so much I had to close my nose,” said Shankar Suntararaju, a father of a second grader at Stratford. “Students are playing [at the playground] day in and day out.”

A group of 33 parents recently sat down with NBC Bay Area to share their health concerns.

“It’s really shocking to us,” said Bowen Liu, who transferred her two children to another school.

“We thought the school would stand with the parents and fight the pollution, but what they’re trying to do … is persuade everyone there’s no problem. Stay there and study and let it go. That’s really shocking to the parents.”

Stratford: Air Quality Meets State Standards on 'Majority of School Days'

The school, which declined repeated interview requests with NBC Bay Area, defended its location alongside the concrete plant.

“Stratford School prioritizes the safety and well-being of its students and staff,” school founder Sherry Adams said in a statement. “We remain committed to ongoing communications with members of our school community regarding this matter, as well as to actively working with our neighbors and local regulatory districts.”

Adams said the school paid for air quality testing over a 20-week period, which showed the results were in line with state standards for a “majority of school days.”

Citing parents’ concerns, the school also allowed students to opt out of recess. In letters emailed to parents, the school asked families whether their children are “allowed to play in the playground.”

Parents Pull Kids Out of Stratford

While many parents have already pulled their children out of the school, others remain reluctant because of the difficulty in finding open spots elsewhere, as well as the close ties their children share with teachers and fellow classmates.

“I tried to move my kid to another Stratford campus, and he started crying,” said Suntararaju. “He loves his friends.”

Some parents, however, remain skeptical of the school’s air quality studies since, they argue, the results suggest the air quality along the fence line, between the school and the plant, is somehow cleaner than the ambient air surrounding the area.

“it’s just scientifically impossible,” said Sean Wang, a father of two children at Stratford. “[The school] needs to deliver an updated report with an updated baseline.”

Wang said parents began seeking clarification from the school in March about what they describe as serious discrepancies in the data. Wang, however, said parents have yet to receive any answers from school officials.

Concrete Plant Owner 'Surprised' at School’s Decision to Build Next Door

While the Startford School opened its doors less than a year ago, Tri City Rock has maintained the concrete plant at its location, next door to the school, since 1987.

“I was surprised that they would choose this location,” said Stefany Doukas, owner and CEO of Tri City Rock. The family-operated concrete plant rests along Osgood Road in Fremont.

Doukas said when she first heard of the school’s intentions to build next door, she expressed her own concerns to a top official at Stratford.

“He was very matter of fact and said, 'We know what we’re moving next to,'" Doukas said.

The chain of blunders that led to the school’s construction begins with inaccurate permit application forms submitted by Tri City Rock. Doukas admits she and her family mistakenly underreported the plant’s production.

'It was Never Brought to Our Attention'

“I feel like we just reported to the best of our knowledge and, unfortunately, that was not necessarily accurate,” she said.

In filling out renewal forms for her company’s annual permit with the air quality regulators, Doukas noted that Tri City produced 268.8 tons of concrete in 2018. The plant’s actual production level, however, was hundreds of times larger – more than 98,000 tons.

“We thought we were submitting the accurate data,” she said. “It was never brought to our attention that we were reporting incorrectly.”

The Bay Area Air Quality Management District (BAAQMD), which regulates air pollution in the nine-county Bay Area, used Tri City Rock’s inaccurate emissions data to calculate a health risk assessment score for the area, which BAAQMD then posted on its website.

“The website is supposed to be for informational purposes, not for planning purposes,” said Wayne Kino, deputy air pollution control officer at BAAQMD.

While the information was made available to the public, Kino said data posted on his agency’s website should never be used to make official decisions relating to planning and zoning, adding that its standard practice for government agencies to phone his office to obtain more precise figures.

Incorrect Health Assesment Used to Approve School Site

The NBC Bay Area Investigative Unit, however, has learned that incorrect calculation was used as part of the decision-making process to allow the school to be built alongside the Tri City Rock concrete plant.

In hopes of scoring a permit with the city of Fremont to locate its school alongside the plant, Stratford School hired a contractor to analyze air quality in the area. That contractor, Illingworth & Rodkin, used the incorrect figure from the BAAQMD website as part of the school’s permit application. Illingworth & Rodkin did not contact air quality regulators to verify the data, according to BAAQMD, and did not respond to repeated requests for comment from NBC Bay Area.

Fremont’s Planning Department, which was ultimately in charge of approving the project, did not contact BAAQMD either. The agency ultimately greenlit the plan to locate the school alongside the concrete plant, even though the school’s permit application included a miscalculated health assessment, which underestimated the safety risk caused by air pollution emitting from the plant.

“The city had no reason to believe that the data relied upon in the Illingworth & Rodkin assessment was incorrect,” said Kristie Wheeler, Fremont’s zoning administrator, who declined to be interviewed on camera but provided a statement to NBC Bay Area.

'We All Have Fault Here'

“These kinds of things are avoidable with better communication," said Kino. "We all have fault here."

When asked if it is dangerous to make such information readily available to the public on his agency’s website even though the information is inaccurate, Kino said, "We're looking at that … and we're evaluating that at this point.”

The agency is also considering including disclaimers on its website but has yet to update the incorrect health assessment score that is still listed online for the area surrounding Tri City Rock.

Kino said he was unsure when the figure would be corrected but added his office recently completed a more precise assessment of health risks at the plant and determined emissions fall under allowable limits.

That said, Kino still believes the school should not have been located alongside the concrete plant.

“There's some common sense factors that you have to apply to these things,” he said. “The school is located in an industrial area between railroad tracks. Emission sources, truck traffic – just that alone says in your mind that the school shouldn't be there.”

Stratford School Built in Industrial Area

Doukas describes the misreporting as a "clerical error." Her actions, however, ignited a chain of events that ultimately led to the controversial decision to approve the school's location, which parents now blame for threatening their children's safety. Families have even held protests along the concrete plant.

"I don't believe there's any merit to the health risk," Doukas said. "It's been a long few months since the school opened up in what feels like constant harassment."

Neither the concrete plant nor the school has any plans to relocate.

“Closing the doors is not an option,” Doukas said. “Relocating is not an option. We've got customers and relationships in the city of Fremont that depend and rely on us. This business is everything to me,” Doukas said tearfully.

The concrete plant has yet to face any penalty for its misreporting; however, the plant was cited for producing about 20 percent more concrete last year than what its permit allowed. Tri City Rock has since requested an increase to its concrete production limit – from 80,000 tons to 120,000 tons.

In the coming months, BAAQMD is expected to weigh in on the permit request and what changes, if any, the concrete plant will have to make to reduce its air pollution. The agency has the power to shut down the plant and issue up to $10,000 per day in fines. The agency has done neither in this case. The penalty phase can take years, according to the agency.

“It’s lives. It's other people's lives,” said Charlotte Tsui, now in the third grade. “I don't want anyone getting hurt at school."

This story uses functionality that may not work in our app. Click here to open the story in your web browser. Silicon Valley Parents Fear Kids at Risk From Dangerous Dust published first on Miami News

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psychotherapyconsultants · 6 years ago

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The Fantastical World of Damian Jacob Markiewicz Sendler

Meet Damian Jacob Markiewicz Sendler aka Dr. Damian Jacob Sendler aka Damian Dariusz Markiewicz.

According to him, he’s “an award-winning Polish-American clinician sexologist, the scholar of forensic and legal medicine, the scientist trained in digital epidemiology, and the media health expert personality.” He’s been quoted by more than a dozen online publications internationally about his unique research examining human sexual behavior.

However, according to Gizmodo journalist Jennings Brown, much of his professional résumé and background is a lie. Is Brown right or is Sendler a bona fide scientist who simply got caught in a media witch hunt?

Brown writes, “Sendler is a serial fabulist… Many of these platforms have published Sendler’s lies and publicized his bizarre and irresponsible studies on necrophilia, zoophilia, lethal erotic asphyxiation, and sexual assault. And until recently, he was soliciting patients through his website where he offered online psychotherapy and sex therapy.”

Let’s Meet Dr. Sendler

The problems with understanding Sendler’s experience start with his educational background.

Damian Jacob Sendler’s old CV (since removed from his website) clearly lists his title as “Dr.” suggesting that he has a medical or doctoral degree in something. Later in the same CV, he states, “Dr. Sendler completed training through rigorous M.D.-Sc.D./Ph.D. training path [sic]. He studied and researched at NYU, Columbia, Harvard, Warsaw Institute of Psychiatry, and Jagiellonian Collegium Medicum.”

In his interview with Brown, Sendler confirms his credentials: “’I got into Harvard Medical School for MD, PhD, and Masters degree combined,’ Sendler told me. I asked if he was able to get a PhD in sexual behavior from Harvard Medical School (Harvard Medical School does not provide any sexual health focuses) and he said ‘Yes. Yes,’ without hesitation…”

Contrary to his assertions, Sendler apparently does not actually have an MD, Ph.D. or any other graduate degree from Harvard. After graduating from New York University in 2012, he worked in various Boston-based labs (sometimes as an unpaid intern, other times as a paid assistant) until mid-2015. He moved to Poland for two years to pursue graduate and medical school training there, and moved back to the U.S. in mid-2017.

Simple math tells us that unless he had some extraordinary, unheard-of fast-tracked experience, there is no possible way he could’ve earned a doctorate or M.D. in just two years — something that takes everyone else five years or more.

A colleague of his from Poland remembers his time at the university there: “According to what I remember, Mr. Sendler graduated 2 first years [sic] of our medical program (theory) and decided to start clinic rotations in USA right after. In the meantime, he started working on [his] PhD in USA, as he wrote me about.”

The Gizmodo article confirms that since returning to the U.S., Sendler is back in school — but not for a Ph.D.

“In August 2017 Sendler was admitted into the Harvard Extension School as a Master of Liberal Arts degree candidate, according to a spokesperson for Harvard’s Division of Continuing Education (DCE). But this is not an institution that can grant MDs or PhDs.”

I reached out to Damian Sendler directly in an email to try and get some clarification and shed some light on the confusing details of his education — what kind of advanced doctoral degree he actually holds and from what university. Most professionals and researchers are happy to share such information with colleagues and journalists without any reservation.

But in his reply, Sendler initially ducked my inquiries regarding his specific credentials. Instead, he wrote back, saying in part:

“It was not until last year that reporters started asking me for comments, referring to past studies. This is one example of how this story was twisted against me. The obvious confusion is that I’ve done my own research in Eastern Europe. I’ve worked with patients as part of dissertation research and MD training. But since I live most of the time in the US now, I’m being mislabeled as seeing patients here. I’ll happily clarify these discrepancies.”

It’s not clear whether Sendler understands that just because you conduct research with a BA or BS degree, that doesn’t make you a “Dr.”

“The reporter essentially picks up the story line by denying me the privilege of being a “Dr.” because most of my graduate education was completed in Europe. There are plenty of foreign scientists living in the US. Therefore, there’s confusion with whether I have a license to practice science or medicine, even though I don’t practice in the US.”

It’s not just that Sendler obfuscates his educational background. Lots of people take graduate courses and medical school courses. But there is a vast gulf between taking a few graduate courses and actually graduating with a doctorate or M.D. It appears Sendler is claiming that just because he conducts research with his Bachelor’s degree, he deserves the title “Dr.” This is an unconventional view shared by few if any professionals in America, much less Europe.

A Polish colleague of Sendler’s who was contacted to discuss Sendler’s academic degrees was secretive and defensive, refusing to discuss the matter further, citing European privacy laws (something Sendler also cited in one of his replies to me). This was a transparent, clumsy dodge, however, since such laws govern institutions and organizations — not colleagues sharing information about another colleague’s academic credentials.

Jagiellonski Collegium Medicum did confirm to me that he attended school there. But here is what they said about his doctoral status:

Damian Jacob Markiewicz Sendler is a PhD student at the Faculty of Health Sciences since 2017. He does not have a doctorate degree yet.

A further, 4,500-word followup email from Sendler covered many topics. But when it came to proof of his doctorate — the primary thing I was interested in talking to him about — he claimed his lawyer advised him not to share that information with me. Based upon my email exchanges with Sendler and my research into his background, I believe that his reticence has little to do with his lawyer and everything to do with the likelihood that he doesn’t yet have a doctoral or medical degree.

The published sexologist seems only to have a bachelor’s degree.

It’s Not Just the ‘Dr.’ Title That’s Not Entirely Real

Sendler also has created an entire institution to support his research work.

At Felnett Health Research Foundation, he serves as “chief of the division of clinical research and is director of the European program on studying sexual minorities and health policy.” Look at all these people Sendler oversees in his lab. But is any of this real? Does the organization exist? Does it have offices?

With Sendler’s help, I discovered that the Felnett Health Research Foundation actually does exist as an organization in Poland. But contrary to Sendler’s assertion that Felnett is a “non-profit scientific organization in public service,” it is not an actual public benefit organization (what the Polish government calls a charity or non-governmental organization). A public benefit organization (abbreviated OPP in Polish) is equivalent to a non-profit or charity organization in the U.S. Felnett is apparently not such an organization, according to Polish government records.

Here’s Poland’s government database file on Felnett. Notice near the top, where it asks if the organization is an OPP?1 Nie is Polish for “no.” Research and educational organizations in Poland typically are organized as an OPP, while Felnett appears not to be.

The other interesting information in this public document is the fact that only two board members are listed — Sendler (using the name, “Damian Dariusz Markiewicz”) as chairman of the board and Mieczyslaw Gawel, as vice-president. Sendler provided additional board member names to me, but none of them are listed on this government document, nor could they be found to have any online footprint. He claims Gawel was a retired psychology professor — and he very well may be. But I couldn’t find a single research reference with this name in the psychology literature, which would be odd for a psychology professor (retired or not).

Felnett.org (according to public Whois information) is registered to Damian Sendler, and lists the same address for Felnett Health Research Foundation as he lists on his academic papers for the Foundation — a condo unit in Staten Island, New York. Most legitimate foundations that I’m familiar with and that boast a staff of a dozen or more people aren’t based out of somebody’s apartment.

In one of his email replies, Sendler stated to me that the foundation has three office locations in Poland. When asked in a follow-up email to supply the addresses of these offices (since they couldn’t be found online), he declined to do so. The only Polish address listed on file for Felnett is a private residence located in the small town of Nowa Dęba.

Felnett has apparently been operating in New York State since mid-2017, and to this day, Sendler’s website proudly proclaims that Felnett has offices in “New York and Warsaw.” Non-profit organizations operating out of New York State are required by law to register with the state. There is no record of this organization in New York, according to state records, either as a corporation or as a public charity.

I won’t go into his previous boasts about his professional memberships and awards. Many legitimate professionals overstate such awards and memberships as something special, when they rarely are. But this one is particularly amusing — he’s also apparently made up his own research grant, as noted by an Acknowledgement in one of his recently published studies:

“The source of funding for this research comes from the Young Investigatorship fund of the Felnett Health research fund.”

Why Does This Matter to Anyone?

Besides a bunch of journalists being unwittingly duped into writing salacious articles about people doing it with animals, what’s the harm of some random guy misrepresenting his professional credentials to the world?2 Not much, except when it comes down to clinical practice. And that’s where Sendler may have crossed a line.

Before the publication of the Gizmodo exposé, Sendler was apparently offering clinical, psychological consultations to anyone via his website.

“But Sendler told me he is actively seeing patients in New York. […] When I first started reporting this story, Sendler’s website offered online psychotherapy, online sex therapy, and relationship coaching. The site claimed: “Dr. Sendler specializes in the treatment of patients with psychological and psychiatric conditions, ranging from post-traumatic stress among military veterans, and extending all the way to complex forensic cases involving paraphilias.”

That’s concerning, given his lack of a U.S. license to practice any form of psychotherapy or psychological consultations.

His story changed when confronted with his lack of a license:

I then told Sendler that he was not licensed to practice mental health in New York, which is concerning since he had told me earlier in our conversation that he is actively seeing patients in New York. He then clarified: “I see them in terms of psychological consultations.” […] But New York law doesn’t permit anyone to call themselves a psychologist or refer to their services as “psychology” unless they are licensed or properly authorized.

In a final fact-checking phone conversation with Sendler—when he was more guarded than in our in-person interview—Sendler told me he’s never seen patients in New York.

In a January 24, 2019 interview with Krish Chopra of “Authority Magazine” (which has since been removed, but here’s the saved version of it (PDF)), Sendler said:

It helps to brag about your credentials if they are stellar. Moreover, it would help if you offered flexibility and innovation in healthcare treatments. For instance, I utilize e-therapy to work with frequent travelers and patients who live outside of New York but want to work with me.

While living in New York, Sendler’s claim clearly implies that he sees patients (or says he does) via e-therapy, contradicting his claims to me (and to Brown) that he doesn’t see patients for clinical consultations.

There’s also some concern about oversight of the research Sendler says he’s conducting. Because there’s apparently no actual verifiable staff at Felnett, that also means it’s quite possible it doesn’t have an actual IRB — an institutional review board for review of human subjects research. If Felnett indeed lacks a real IRB, it would suggest that Sendler’s research involving human subjects hasn’t been subjected to any type of objective ethical review. This may have violated the submission guidelines of journals regarding publication of research, not to mention professional ethics.

Not the First to Question Sendler

Gizmodo isn’t the only organization to question how Sendler has represented himself.

One of the schools he studied at while in Poland, the Medical University of Lublin, not-surprisingly objected to him using their name on his study, “Similar mechanisms of traumatic rectal injuries in patients who had anal sex with animals to those who were butt-fisted by human sexual partner”:

“The author regrets for having used affiliation of Medical University of Lublin (MUL) in Poland. Briefly before the study was published, the author advanced as principal investigator at Felnett Health Research Foundation in New York, making it difficult to recommend changes to affiliation on manuscript before the article became available online first on June 25, 2017. Therefore, the original publication contained contact information for MUL, leading to a dispute in which the author was asked to update the manuscript.”

Remember, Felnett Health Research Foundation seemingly exists only as a Sendler-created Polish organization to “house” his research. It wasn’t officially registered as an organization in Poland until May 2018. Sendler appears to have created the organization because he needed an affiliation to list for this and future studies, as he is currently unaffiliated with any university in the U.S. or Europe.

Click to see larger image.

It appears that Felnett is not the only organization Sendler has created to prop up his public profile.

He also appears to have created “Taublum Media” (and all the staffers who work for it), so he could publish this since-removed interview with himself on Thrive Global.3 Taublum Media’s “Jay Longton” sat down with “Dr. Sendler” on January 23, 2019, to talk to him about being a “Rising Star in Medicine Charts His Path From School at Harvard to Becoming a Well-Funded Scientist, Clinician, and Media Health Expert Personality.”

Surprisingly for a media company, “Taublum Media” has no website and “Jay Longton” has no online footprint –- except for references on Sendler’s own website. These are two things unheard of for a legitimate public relations firm or media company. Apparently, Sendler really thought nobody would ever think to research these things on Google. But it’s a pattern you come across time and time again when researching anything to do with him.

In the interview, “Longton” writes,

“After graduating with degrees from Harvard Graduate School of Arts and Sciences and Harvard Medical School, Dr. Sendler became the founding head of one of the most successful sex therapy research clinics in the world. In day-to-day practice, Dr. Sendler manages a team of over two dozen scientists, assistants, and clinicians, spearheads over 25 funded research projects with 3000+ clinical participants, and sees patients in his Center for Sexual Medicine and Psychotherapy.”

This was written just over a month ago, in January 2019. And apparently he does all of this from his condo in Staten Island, New York.

Click for larger image.

Aftermath

After the incriminating Gizmodo interview was published, Sendler immediately disabled all the content on his website.

In his first rebuttal, which he posted to his website (since removed but saved here), he wrote:

As we all know, there have been numerous cases of reporters attacking scientists for their work. Since this reporter does not understand science, he’s inventing a character of danger impersonated in me. I am worried that his vicious attacks on me will result in physical harm. I informed him about my concerns but he ignored it.

For personal safety, parts of this website will be temporarily disabled. I will continue to pursue research and will not be intimated by these attacks. I recognize that carchy [sic] media titles, just like the content of my research, quickly become viral, but ultimately the quality of my research will defend itself.

It seems odd — and quite the overreaction — that a person would feel the need to suddenly hide his entire life’s work just because one reporter had some questions about it.

Sendler posted an updated statement on his website on March 3, 2019. The new statement focuses on his research and research subjects, rather than his self-proclaimed academic credentials.4

I haven’t spent much time on his actual research or its quality. I think that would be appropriate for an entirely separate article, as some of it appears acceptable (especially the work done with colleagues). But in reading more than a dozen of his published papers and posters, there were some studies that raised red flags.5

I’ve spent many hours reviewing Sendler’s background and education for this article. One Polish university refused to release information regarding him without a signed release — something Sendler declined to do. I’ve had a few email exchanges with him over the course of the past week. He provided one lengthy and detailed reply, and copies of multiple documents. But little in his responses had to do with the primary question of his educational credentials — the focus of most of my questions. Instead, he mostly defended his science, his research practices, whether he was publicity-seeking or not, and who contacted whom first.6

In one of his last replies to me, he wrote,

…[W]hatever damage has been done to my reputation, it will not be fixed at this moment, no matter what I say or do. I’ll not reach the moment of catharsis until after some time passes by and I can again reflect on what has happened. For now, people will have their opinions.

Sendler is apparently working overtime to clean up his online profile, and any mention of education at Harvard and other institutions where he didn’t actually attend or graduate. For instance, up until the publication of the Gizmodo article, his Thrive Global profile included the line, “Educated at Harvard Medical School and the Harvard Graduate School of Arts and Sciences;” his ResearchGate profile similarly listed his education at Harvard Medical School.

Mentions of Harvard have now been removed.

At the top of one of his replies, he did express regret if anyone felt hurt by his research — but quickly noted nobody has ever been hurt by his research or his “embellishment” of his CV:

“I apologize if anyone felt hurt, even though I know that no one has ever been negatively affected by my research. There’s not a single complaint ever recorded by a research subject or anyone really. Therefore, I don’t regret my scientific activity. I entered this field of research knowing that it is a magnet for controversy.”

Damian Jacob Markiewicz Sendler is now more famous than he probably ever could have hoped to be. But perhaps not for the reasons he desired.

Click for larger image.

References

Brown, J. (2019). The Fake Sex Doctor Who Conned the Media Into Publicizing His Bizarre Research on Suicide, Butt-Fisting, and Bestiality . Gizmodo.

Sendler, DJ. (2019). Contemporary understanding of zoophilia — A multinational survey study. Journal of Forensic and Legal Medicine, 62, 44-51.

Sendler, DJ. (2017). Similar mechanisms of traumatic rectal injuries in patients who had anal sex with animals to those who were butt-fisted by human sexual partner. Journal of Forensic and Legal Medicine, 511, 69-73.

Footnotes:

“Czy podmiot posiada status organizacji pozytku publicznego?” translates, “Does the entity have the status of a public-purpose organization?”

Surprisingly, rather than admit they’ve been misled, some websites have simply removed articles featuring Sendler, including Forbes.com, Authority Magazine, and the Savage Lovecast podcast. Others have scrubbed their articles, such as Men’s Health, removing any reference to Sendler and replacing his comments with comments from others.

Anybody can publish on Thrive Global, but Sendler makes it sound repeatedly like he has a unique or special relationship with this community blogging site.

Apparently claiming you’re a “Harvard grad” on your Instagram page is fine — even when you’re not one. His ResearchGate profile still lists his highest degree as a Sc.D.

One such question about his research would be his easy discovery in just three months’ time of more than 340 subjects online willing to take a survey on their bizarre sexual practices.

For the record, Savage Lovecast podcast’s producer reached out to Sendler first, according to the email provided to me.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/the-fantastical-world-of-damian-jacob-markiewicz-sendler/

#World of Psychology

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being-worthy · 6 years ago

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Don’t let them fool you!

A few months ago or so, I discovered an interesting article called Work for Loyal Employers. Life is too short for anything else. I asked myself are there still employers worth working for, if so where are they because let’s face it around 99% of the people just go to work because they have to and they’re not working for supervisors or a company who treat them right. This inspired me to write an honest review about one of the biggest companies of our time, a company everyone seems to have in high esteem - too high in my opinion - and people always look the other way when the company does something hideous, I’m talking about Apple.

There might be similar or worse conditions in other of their offices but this review is regarding the office in London in Piccadilly. I started to work for Apple as a contractor via an agency (Kelly Services, I wrote a separate review about them on Glassdoor) and remember well how full of dreams and innocence I was when I started my first day at Apple and now after having worked there for almost a year I’ve come out of there with my dreams crushed and a nearly dead mind because of the job - both of them thankfully recovering, albeit slowly.

At first, all supervisors are friendly, although some faked it so strongly that it cringes and are passive-aggressive to the point that it can make you sick to your stomach. If you’re a contractor and have an issue with your employer (the agency), such as late payment or no payment at all, don’t have any hopes that Apple will help you sort this out because they won’t even acknowledge you or the issue and prefer to do like it never happened or just tell you they’re your employer sort it out yourself with them. Apple’s way of saying we do not care whether you get paid or not whether you’re happy with your situation or not as long as you get your job done. Also, Apple didn’t seem have done any in-depth research about the agency prior to hiring them and it turned out that one of the biggest issues - inaccurate payment & no payment - was happening in all of the agency’s branches across the UK.

From the beginning, Apple will tell you that no matter if you’re a contractor or not, you’re part of the team and welcome any feedback. But the truth is that you’ll (the contractor) always be at the bottom of the food chain and the only type of feedback they welcome is the positive one. If you want to succeed and move forward in the company keep the real constructive feedback to yourself and if be ready to sell your soul and forget your ethics as well.

There’s a strict segregation regime like in the Middle Ages (the common folk and royalty) or like the racial segregation in the USA (black and white people) but at Apple it’s between the permanent staff and the contractors. This starts from the very beginning with the ID being a different colour compared to that of the permanent staff, first sign you’re not part of the team.

Forget about having any interaction with colleagues from other departments. In their eyes, you don’t exist and they won’t even acknowledge your existence. I’m not suggesting to talk about work because it’s not allowed and I fully understand this but not having the decency to say ‘good morning, how are you?’ back to someone who is talking to you and just treats you like you’re invisible/beneath them is disgusting, also the managers won’t sit and eat at the same table as you and this is not a joke, they’ll sit at their own table without any contractors in sight.

You’ll also be excluded from the company’s parties and they keep them highly classified and this one was a first for me. I’ve had my fair share of fixed-term jobs for many companies (big and small ones) and they all welcomed me to their parties, whether I had recently started or been there for years, whether I was a contractor part-time or full-time. E.g. during one of my FTC jobs, my senior told me the company was invited to an event (and it was quite a luxurious one too) and asked me if I wanted to assist as well and I was barely a week at the job! You can say that they might have the right not to invite contractors to their parties but this shows they don’t consider them part of the company/team.

Moreover, you’re not allowed to send parcels to the office. If you do, they’ll “kindly” ask you to not send any personal post/parcels to the office as they only can receive parcels related to Apple work as it’s “Apple’s policy”. Nonetheless, the permanent staff will constantly send stuff to the office, like clothes from H&M, gym products, things from Amazon, etc. So much for products only Apple-related ¬¬... The first time, you’ll get a warning but if it happens again they’ll refuse to take the parcel and it’ll be returned. As a contractor, I spent 40 hours a week at the company with only half an hour lunch break and some people have a long home journey (myself included) and wouldn’t make it on time to pick up the parcel because the post offices are already closed by then.

If you require specific work equipment due to a medical condition or similar no matter whether you were born with it or due to an accident, then strongly avoid Apple to work as a contractor. They’ll beat around the bush for months with back and forth emails, so that you eventually give up and forget about it, no matter if you’ve got a doctor’s letter stating you require it. They’ll find an excuse so as not to approve it, much less provide it, and go as far as saying ‘I think the doctor meant to say that you need something else’. If someone has a doctor’s letter confirming you’ve got a medical condition and for said condition, you require special equipment, what on Earth more do you require? A DNA sample? And how do you know what the doctor meant? Are you a doctor too now? Can you read minds? Firstly, it’s very hard to get an appointment, most of them are in 3 to 4 weeks’ time (if you’re lucky unless you can afford private medical healthcare) and until then you’re supposed to work as usual while being in constant pain? Secondly, if diverse body areas are affected you’ve to go to different doctors in the UK, meaning to book an appointment for each specialty doctor you’ve to see, and by the time you’ve got all documents they “require” months have already passed. No wonder that there isn’t a single person with a disability working at the company, so much for diversity at their workplace.

In addition, keeping up morale is the responsibility of the contractor ONLY, not of the company you work for too. You’ve to come up with ideas to improve the relationships - little info for Apple, the relationships between contractors are not the problem, it’s the lack of relationship, understanding, and support between contractor and Apple that is lacking, if not completely non-existent. It’s not surprising that the company DOES NOT care about you, even if you’re a great and hardworking employee and exceed in the assignments given, for them YOU ARE REPLACEABLE.

About the job itself. The job is easy, like incredibly easy. It’s so easy that your brain will reach a state similar to a coma while still being awake after only a few weeks (if not days) due to the constant repetition and lack of innovation/improvement for the tasks. However, policies can change rapidly and frequently even contradict themselves and if you ask for further clarification they’ll dismiss you or tell you the exact same information given by the policies you already read and make no sense.

Now to the part on how you succeed on becoming a permanent employee, even though they say this is impossible from day one. Well, if you really want to be part of the cult then follow these guidelines: don’t think outside the box, don’t look left or right and be close-minded, don’t ask for deeper clarification or further questions about a topic, go with their flow, become best buddies with the managers, inform on your colleagues - e.g. a work colleague is making a constructive comment about work, company, etc. or checking their phone while sitting on their desk while waiting for the work tools to load (which take ages by the way), then go and have a tête-à-tête with a manager about them, make sure to mention the employee’s name. At a certain stage, they’ll approach you and praise you for all your great espionage data, I mean feedback and “hard work” followed by an interview with other permanent staff from other countries where your ego will be molded to their vision and tell you that from now on you’re part of the higher-up and given the great power of prying on your colleagues and patrol the office to make sure only work-related tools are on display and the same for conversations - after all, this is kindergarten and someone has to breathe down your neck at all times.

No wonder when I was watching The Circle the first thing that came to my mind was ‘they should’ve called it Apple’. You can be as hard-working and punctual, kind and honest, always helping out others, even taking the responsibility of training others which is actually the managers’ job, and even excel at work and in all your tasks all you want because if you’re not ready to be submissive, forget your principles, and backstab your colleagues you will never be one of them.

These reasons might seem petty to some, particularly to those who think alike as Apple and are already under the spell of Apple’s indoctrination. Nevertheless, if you put them all together and imagine yourself going to work five days a week during a daily eight-hour shift where you see and experience these factors and many more day after day after day, you’ll realise that a job at Apple nor Apple itself is truly worth it and also shows, the bigger the company the less value an employee/contractor will have.

Please don’t think this review is coming from someone who is envious (yes, envious not jealous there’s a difference) for not being promoted or made permanent, and I know that my review might be fairly derogatory and too much for some to handle (probably too much for Apple too), but I don’t sugarcoat things particularly when it comes to the truth and Apple deserves it. Furthermore, I can happily and proudly say that I got a much better and permanent job offer at a company that highly values and greatly rewards their employees as well as gives them the opportunity to develop themselves and I don’t have to be an unscrupulous lowlife and can keep a clear conscience.

On the other hand, if you’re looking for backstabbing, two-faced politics, lies, hypocrisy, lack of recognition for hard work and dedication, no real employee value, and modernised and legal slavery, then by all means, Apple is your company.

Apple, your slogan is ‘think different’ but where is that different? You are a company that generates a revenue between $50-55 (or more) billion a year and pays only around 10% taxes on said amount (you might even surpass the trillion dollars soon), so why not bother in improving your work conditions and relationships among your permanent staff and contractors?

Peace out!

#apple #job #work #review #honest review #uk #employment #london #the truth

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