#doctor andover

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Witch and The Doctor Chapter 1

Bucky thought he could make a difference, getting a medical license and trying to change people’s minds.  But the 1600s New World is a harsh place with cruel people.  After being accused of witchcraft he makes a run for it, facing the dangers of the woods and the rumored witch that lives within them.

Warnings: violence; animal attack; mentions of death; smut; language

Next chapter

Bucky knew this would happen.  From the moment he had entered the town of Andover in the Massachusetts Bay Colony he had felt the trepidation of the residents.  He had his new medical license burning in his pocket and was naively excited about his prospects as he traveled along the eastern seaboard of the New World in search of an area that needed professional help. It was why he had gotten the license in the first place, to help people after watching his family and friends slowly die from a bout of scarlet fever that had progressed into something worse.  He had felt helpless as he somehow was saved from the illness while everyone else slipped into eternal sleep, so he learned all he could to make it so he could help others survive the constant illnesses that seemed to plague the people.  

Unfortunately, many Puritans were wary of doctors, science and medicines.  He hoped that he could come into new towns and teach them ways to use medicines from natural herbs and plants to help with sickness.  Andover at first seemed wary but grateful to have him, since their last few doctors had either left or died from disease themselves.  But as the months wore on and the first signs of Autumn set in, Bucky was working overtime on mixing batches of tinctures to give out to the residents to help ward off oncoming illnesses, and they grew suspicious.  

He was awoken in the middle of the night by shouts and hands hoisting him out of his bed.  Bucky was dragged out of his house and brought before the magistrate and reverend. 

“James Barnes, you have been accused of witchcraft,” Reverend Zemo announced dramatically.  “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Bucky said defiantly.  “I’m a doctor, not a witch.”

“I saw him!” a woman, Mrs. Webb, screeched, pointing a finger at him.  “In the woods!”  That drew an audible gasp from the crowd.  “He was gathering bones and plants then threw them in a cauldron, chanting something strange!”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Uneducated swine,” he muttered.  “I was making medicine for all you ungrateful pricks.  It’s not my fault you don’t understand medical terminology.”

Another audible gasp rang through the crowd, a few people shouting insults at him.  “That settles it, you, James Barnes, are found guilty of witchcraft!” Magistrate Ross said loudly.  The crowd cheered.  Bucky hung his head in defeat.  He looked around, trying to plan an escape.  If he was going to die it wasn’t going to be like this.  He glanced at the woods not too far off and smirked.  The Andover residents were predictably afraid of what they did not know, and their religious zealousness made it a common practice not to enter the woods for fear of encountering the supposed witch of the woods and her wrath.  If he could just get deep enough, they wouldn’t follow him.

As they started to take him over to the gallows he waited until they were closest to the woods.  When the tree line was near he twisted his body suddenly, wrenching his arms out of their holds and pushing them away as he ran for it.

“Stop him!” Ross yelled as the people ran after him.  Bucky was faster and broke the tree line quickly, speed picking up as he used his knowledge of the area to dodge trees and fallen logs and dips in the earth that slowed the people chasing him.  He kept moving, not daring to slow down even as his legs burned and he could feel his feet tearing up along the harsh forest floor.  He could feel the pain of scrapes and scratches to his face, neck and arms as he careened through the woods, a particularly rough nick near the side of his mouth making him taste blood.  It wasn’t until he could only hear his own thudding feet and panting breaths that he finally slowed.  He jumped into a line of bushes and waited, trying to hear if anyone was nearby as he caught his breath.

He waited…and waited.  He heard nothing and finally sank to the ground, letting his legs rest and his heart relax.  Bucky wanted to scream, cry, curse, but instead he sat numbly in the dark.  He was lost, he knew that much, having never been this far into the woods before.  And in the heavy darkness there wasn’t much he could do to try and find his way out.  As he looked upwards he could only see glimpses of the starlit night sky through the trees.  He sighed heavily and decided to hunker down in the bushes until morning.

The snap of a twig nearby made him freeze.  He held his breath as he tried to listen, his thundering heart pounding in his ears making it difficult.  He tried to look towards the sound, only able to make out leaves and a tree about twenty feet away from him.  As he stared and waited he heard it…a deep sniff and huff from an animal.  He didn’t wait to find out what it was and sprinted out of the bushes in a different direction.  Bucky heard the animal growl then start chasing him.

He recognized the growl as a black bear and shook his head, baffled at the situation he found himself in.  He survived the fever just to almost die by the hand of Puritans, and now a fucking bear was out to kill him.  Bucky broke through another tree line into a clearing.  As he ran he saw a small cabin in the moonlight near one edge of the clearing.

“Help! Please help!” he screamed.  He heard the bear coming up behind him.  He tried running off to the side, tripping the bear up as he turned suddenly, but it also tripped him as his foot hit a dip in the ground, sending him sprawling in the grass.  As he tried to stand the bear ran up behind him and swiped his back with its claws, making him scream in pain as he hit the ground again.  He faced the bear, trying to crawl backwards on his hands and feet.  The bear was rearing back on its hind legs, growling and walking towards him.  This was it.  He was going to die.  Bucky closed his eyes, hoping it would be a quick death.

An unearthly scream ripped through the air and a ring of blue fire suddenly appeared along the dip in the ground he had fallen from, separating Bucky from the bear.  The bear backed up quickly, falling on its front two legs again and growling at the heat threatening to singe it.  Bucky crawled backwards again, away from the bear and the fire, then a figure stood in front of him, facing the bear.  The figure screamed again, raising their arms high, one hand looking like it was holding a torch of blue fire and waving it towards the bear.  The bear tried to approach again, but the figure stood near the fire and raised their hands again, a growl of their own aimed at the animal.  The bear finally gave up, huffing as it turned and ran back towards the woods, disappearing through the tree line.

Bucky stared at the figure, his panicked breathing only getting worse as he watched the blue fire lick the figure’s cloak but not set it ablaze.  The figure turned and looked at him.  He backed away again, hissing at the pain in his back as he tried to turn.  The figure walked slowly to him, holding up their hands in surrender.

“I won’t hurt you,” a female voice came out from under the hood.  Bucky gaped at her.  She pushed her hood back with one of her hands, keeping them up as she approached him. He still couldn’t quite see her in the dark, only glimpses of her face in the firelight. “Let me help you,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her.  The pain in Bucky’s back was increasing rapidly as the adrenaline started to wear off, making his vision hazy.  He nodded as he reached for her hands.  She helped him stand, being careful not to touch his back, instead hooking an arm around his hips, putting his arm around her shoulders.  She led him into the small cabin and helped him lay on his front on a bed.  His vision was getting worse, dark spots blinding him as the searing pain made him delirious.

He could feel her leave him and heard her lock the door before returning to his side.  He heard the sound of ripping as she took a knife to his shirt so she could access his injuries.  Bucky wanted to stop her, but the pain was making him go into shock and he couldn’t move.  He heard her shuffle around until she came back to his side.  She knelt down to try to have him look her in the eye, though he still couldn’t see.

“I’m going to treat these slashes on your back,” she murmured.  “Drink this, it will help relax you.”  She held a cup up to his mouth.  She could be poisoning him for all he knew, but at that point it couldn’t be worse than what he was already feeling.  He opened his mouth slightly and she helped lean his head up so he could take some long gulps of the liquid.  It was cold and a little sweet.  He felt a warmth bloom in his stomach as he swallowed it, the pain already lessening slightly.  “Good…good man,” she rubbed his shoulder softly.  “Now, this will still hurt, but I will try to be careful.”  Bucky slightly nodded, his already hooded eyes fluttering closed.  His fingers gripped the blankets as he prepared himself for more pain.

He heard water being rung from a rag and then tender fingertips softly moving along the slashes in his back, washing them as best as she could.  He hissed and grunted when she applied more pressure, then as she was stitching up some parts of his skin he tensed, hiding his face in the blankets, even biting them at one point to try and not cry out.  She kept apologizing every time he made a sound and worked as quickly as she could.  He felt her applying some kind of paste to his back and then she stooped down to his eyeline again.  “I need you to sit up so I can wrap you,” she whispered.  “Can you do that for me?”  Bucky breathed deeply and nodded as he tried to push himself up.  

He felt her arms hook under his shoulders as she helped him sit up straight to face her.  She stood between his legs as she pushed him up.  She pulled away the last shreds of his shirt and grabbed some long strips of cloth and started wrapping his torso, her hands having to wrap around his back repeatedly, bringing her close to him.  Bucky took that moment of clarity to look at his savior.  She was short, making him eye level with her as she stood in front of him.  She had mid-back length hair flowing around her shoulders in waves, curls, straight pieces and shorter layers, some of it locked and braided, making it look wild.  She was wearing a long robe and nightgown that hung dangerously low on her chest, making Bucky blush.  Her brow was furrowed as she focused on the task at hand, and when he looked down saw that her long fingernails were painted a black color and her fingers were covered in black ink markings of symbols that he didn’t recognize.  As she finished she looked up at him and he was surprised by her eyes.  They were the color of moss with a golden sun pattern around the pupil and a ring around the iris that almost looked like it was glowing in the dark.  

His eyes widened as her gaze flicked up and she analyzed his face, her brow furrowing again.  “Hm, let’s fix that,” she said quietly, reaching for a rag in the bowl of water she had been using to clean his injuries.  She gripped his jaw with one hand to move his face to the side and wiped the gash near his mouth with the rag softly.  Bucky watched her, captivated but cautious.  She was one of the most beautiful but strange women he had ever seen.  She finished washing his face then reached for the paste that she had used on his back.  She swiped a finger through it then applied a small amount to his cheek, rubbing it in circles, her finger grazing his lip until she was happy with it.  She let go of his face and then looked him over for other injuries.

“Everything else is mostly benign,” she said as she stepped back from him and picked up the bowl and rags and walked towards a kitchen area of the cabin.  “You’ll have to try and stay still for a month or two so your back heals, and I’m assuming since you were running through the woods in the middle of the night, that you have nowhere else you can go,” she said, giving him a glance.  Bucky sighed and nodded, his head hanging down.  “You want to tell me why you were running from a bear in the woods in the middle of the night?  No one ever comes out this far.”

She approached him again with another cup and held it out to him.  He eyed it suspiciously but took it and drank, downing what turned out to be water in a few gulps.  She smirked at him then handed him a piece of bread and some berries.  He thanked her as she turned and sat on a rocking chair across from him near the fire.

“I was…” he started then cleared his throat.  “I was accused of witchcraft in the village,” he said and watched her reaction.  She smiled at that and rolled her eyes.  “I’m a doctor, and they thought me making medicine to help them with the upcoming winter and saying things in medical terms was witchcraft.  Idiots…” he huffed as he ate the bread she gave him.

“Hm, how predictable,” she scoffed.  “I guess now is the time I should tell you I’m the witch in the woods they warn their children about.”

Bucky stopped mid-chew and stared at her.  She waited for his reaction, giving off a nonchalant attitude.  He quickly swallowed.  “Are you a witch?”

“Witch, medicine woman, doctor, healer, it’s all the same,” she said.  “But magic,” she paused, her eyes seeming to glow a little brighter, “is completely different.”

“So you are a witch,” Bucky stated.

“Yes.  Does that scare you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“No more than the bear so far,” Bucky said as he popped a berry in his mouth.  She huffed out a laugh at that, smiling widely at him.  “I figure if you wanted me dead you’d have let the bear have me, or done it yourself by now,” he explained.  She hummed as she looked away.  “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N.  What’s your name?” she rallied back at him.

“James, but friends call me Bucky,” he gave her a lopsided smile.

“Are we friends?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Like I said, if you wanted me dead I would be by now.  So if you were willing to help save me from a bear and take care of me, I’m assuming you’re a friend,” he said as he finished the food she gave him.  

Y/N nodded.  “Alright, friend, well we are now at an impasse.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed.  “How?”

“Well, this is my home, and although you need the bed to recover, I need it to sleep.  So what do you propose we do?” she said wryly.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he looked down at the bed.  He suddenly became extremely aware of the fact that he was half naked in front of her, despite the bandaging, and she was in her nightgown that was still inching dangerously close to showing off her breasts.  “I…I don’t…”

“The bed is big enough for two people, Bucky.  Do you think you can handle sleeping next to a stranger?” Y/N asked with a slight hint of annoyance in her tone.  “I have no qualms about it.”

“Uh, no, it’s fine,” Bucky said, more as a reassurance to himself than her.  “I can…I can do that.”

“Good,” Y/N stood, putting some more wood on the fire then double checking that the door was locked before coming to stand next to the bed.  “Come on now, you’ll have to get under the blankets.”

Bucky shifted as best as he could to move towards the wall the bed was against, getting under the blankets and feeling the warmth of the fur lining she had underneath them.  He laid on his front, grabbing the extra pillow that she thankfully had and put one arm under it, the other tucked against his side.  Y/N shimmied into the bed next to him, getting comfortable under the blankets and laying on her side facing him.  She yawned as she settled herself, her arms tucked against her chest as she snuggled the blanket up to her chin.  “Goodnight Bucky,” she said sleepily, her eyes staying closed.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, watching her.  He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her as her breathing became heavier and she started to fall asleep.  He had never been with a woman before, had never had the chance to court, had never kissed a woman, and here he was in a bed sleeping next to one.  He was so confused by her but also liked her already.  The night’s events exhausted him, and as his eyelids grew heavy he kept thinking of her mysterious eyes.

[high-priestess-house]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖒 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝕿𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖘

𝔄𝔫 𝔒𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴

Historical Background

The Salem Witch Trials happened between 1692 and 1693 in colonial Massachusetts, mainly in the towns of Salem Village, Salem Town, Ipswich, and Andover. This period was dominated by Puritan religious beliefs, which were very strict and influenced every aspect of life. The Puritans had come to America to escape religious persecution in England and wanted to create a society based on their strict interpretation of the Bible.

The Puritans’ strict religious beliefs and their fear of the devil and witchcraft were fundamental to the Salem Witch Trials. The Puritan community believed in the literal existence of witches and the devil, which fueled the hysteria and paranoia that led to the trials.

Social and Economic Tensions

In the late 1600s, Massachusetts was experiencing social and economic challenges. Conflicts with Native Americans, known as King Philip’s War (1675–1678), had left the colonies struggling financially and emotionally. Salem Village, in particular, was a community full of disputes over land, church attendance, and local leadership, which created a lot of tension among its residents.

Smallpox was a recurring epidemic in colonial America and had a significant impact on communities. Outbreaks caused widespread fear and mortality, contributing to a heightened sense of anxiety and the search for scapegoats, including those accused of witchcraft.

The Little Ice Age and resulting harsh winters and poor harvests caused food shortages and economic stress in Salem. This economic hardship exacerbated existing tensions and contributed to the atmosphere of fear and suspicion.

Economic inequalities in Salem Village, where wealthier families often accused poorer or socially marginalized individuals of witchcraft, played a significant role in the trials. The accusations often targeted those who were seen as economic or social burdens.

The Start of the Accusations

In January 1692, two young girls in Reverend Samuel Parris’s household, Betty Parris and Abigail Williams, started having strange fits, contortions, and outbursts. When doctors couldn’t explain their symptoms, people suspected witchcraft. The girls accused three women of bewitching them: Tituba, an enslaved woman, "owned" by Reverend Samuel Parris; Sarah Good, a homeless woman; and Sarah Osborne, an elderly woman who rarely attended church.

Tituba’s confession is particularly significant because it was detailed and vivid. She admitted to practicing witchcraft, likely under duress or fear of further punishment, and described encounters with the devil and various supernatural phenomena. Her confession included dramatic elements such as signing the devil’s book and seeing strange creatures, which added fuel to the hysteria and led to more accusations.

Tituba’s role in the Salem Witch Trials was central to the initial outbreak of accusations and the ensuing hysteria. Her story reflects broader themes of racial and social marginalization, the power dynamics of confession under duress, and the tragic consequences of fear and superstition. Understanding Tituba’s experience provides valuable insight into the complexities and injustices of the Salem Witch Trials and highlights the enduring relevance of these themes in contemporary discussions of race, power, and justice.

The Trials and Executions

The accusations quickly escalated. The local court, led by magistrates John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, began investigating. The trials were unfair by today’s standards, often accepting “spectral evidence”—claims that the spirit of the accused was seen doing witchcraft.

Fear spread, and more people were accused. By summer 1692, special courts were set up to handle the cases. The first person executed was Bridget Bishop in June 1692. Overall, 19 people were hanged, one man (Giles Corey) was crushed to death with stones, and several others died in prison.

Women and Misogyny

Most of the accused were women, especially those who didn’t fit into the Puritan mold. Women who were outspoken, financially independent, or different in any way were at higher risk. The trials reflected deep-seated misogyny and fear of women who were seen as too powerful or too different.

Many of the women accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Trials, and in other witch hunts across Europe and colonial America, were often involved in practices that could be seen as healing or folk medicine, and midwives. They often used traditional remedies and herbs to treat illnesses and assist with childbirth. Their knowledge of healing and midwifery, while valuable, also set them apart. In a time when medical knowledge was limited and often intertwined with superstition, successful healing could be viewed with suspicion. If a treatment failed or a patient died, these women could be blamed for malevolent intent. Some of the accused women prepared and administered folk remedies using herbs, roots, and other natural substances. This knowledge was often passed down through generations and was a vital part of rural and village life. Herbalists’ knowledge of plants and their effects could be seen as arcane or magical. The ability to heal with plants, especially if the methods were not understood by others, made these women targets for suspicion and accusations of witchcraft.

Many women served as caregivers and counselors within their communities, offering support and advice during times of illness, personal trouble, or emotional distress. The intimate and influential role they played in the lives of their neighbors could be misinterpreted. If someone they helped later experienced misfortune, these women could be blamed for causing it through supernatural means.

The End of the Trials

By the end of 1692, people started to question the fairness of the trials and the use of spectral evidence. Influential figures like Increase Mather criticized the trials. Governor William Phips eventually dissolved the court in October 1692 and set up a new one that didn’t allow spectral evidence. The new court quickly acquitted many accused. In 1693, Phips pardoned everyone still in jail on witchcraft charges.

Aftermath and Legacy

In the years after the trials, Massachusetts tried to make amends. Some of those involved expressed regret. In 1697, a day of fasting and reflection was declared. In 1702, the trials were officially declared unlawful. By 1711, the colony passed a law restoring the rights and reputations of the accused and offered financial compensation to their families.

The Salem Witch Trials remain a powerful reminder of the dangers of mass hysteria, religious extremism, and unjust legal practices. For modern witches and those practicing alternative spiritualities, they highlight the importance of tolerance, understanding, and protecting individual freedoms.

Reflections for Modern Practitioners

For today’s witches, the Salem Witch Trials are a poignant reminder of past persecutions. They emphasize the need for solidarity, education, and advocacy against misunderstanding and prejudice. Remembering the victims of the Salem Witch Trials serves not only as a tribute to those who suffered but also as a warning to prevent such injustices in the future.

Understanding this dark chapter in history helps appreciate the progress made in religious freedom and the ongoing fight for acceptance and equality for all spiritual paths.

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 30: Meet the Andovers

Does this read like a fluffy chapter? Absolutely, especially after the previous chapter. However, this is absolutely essential to the plot, as we get to meet Nils' parents - more specifically his mother.

That being said, the side gag going on in this one may read like one of the sillier chapters of "The Miys", but I swear it was entirely @baelpenrose's doing.

Mama's hooked on Mary Kay

Brother's hooked on Mary Jane

And Daddy's hooked on Mary two doors down

Mary, Mary quite contrary

We get bored, so we get married

Just like dust, we settle in this town

On this broken merry go 'round

Kasey Musgraves, “Merry go round”

Lash

I fidgeted with my hair before inwardly cursing myself and forcing my hands to my side. “You promise your mother isn’t as bad as Dr. Andover?” I asked for what had to have been the thousandth time.  Nils meeting Mama and Baba had been spontaneous, something I had been delaying more for my sake than his.  But I knew almost nothing about his parents beyond the fact that their relationship was rough on a good day.

“My mother’s worst sin is that she’s a bit oblivious to how people without money tend to live - despite our church spanning pretty much every economic class in the city. She did, however, take your community’s part in the class action lawsuit against the city, or her firm did, and last I checked, they’re winning. She’s happy to see me putting myself out there again. You two will actually get along great.” I was still distracted from how my meeting with the Parsons had gone. “Oh, and uh. Quick note. My father wasn’t…happy at all with our little stunt with the media originally, but now he’s had time to think about it and he loves you. And the fact that we’re dating. Like actually. Just not for the reasons you’d want him to.” 

So, the rich lady is the nice kind, and the holier-than-thou doctor liked me.  I couldn’t actually figure out which was worse, but all in all they could hate me for a plethora of reasons, so I was taking what I could get. “And we’re having dinner with them? Please tell me it’s something I’m going to recognize.”

“Anything you grew up eating, they wouldn’t recognize. And to be so honest, if I grew up eating it, it’s probably too flavorless for your culture to grant it status as “food,” regardless of official classification. Things you and I have eaten together - actually remember that ritzy Mediterranean fusion place with the Ethiopian and Turkish sections on the menu as well as the southern European countries? The one I took you to a few months ago? That’s where we’re going.” Nils’ voice had shifted all at once from apologetic to confident, as though he knew that at least that, I’d actually like.

My mouth did start watering a bit. “The place with the bad spanakopita and the amazing dolmades?”

“Because where better to take a girl to meet your parents than the sight of your first date. That one. Yes.” He answered with a cocky grin. 

“I can face almost anything as long as I can eat,” I nodded, feeling more confident as I teased as our Uber slowed to a stop. “I’ll even use a fork, just for them.”

“Ah, yes, the table manners of the lower classes, a thing that has been of concern more recently than the long 19th century, that is definitely. What I was concerned about.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we?” 

I took the arm, and brushed my hair over my shoulder one last time. “Let’s…. I hate to say get this over with, but our history of meeting each other’s parents isn’t the best. And that’s considering that my family liked you before you were a hero.”

“My meeting with your parents was going perfectly well before an unpredictable event caused by outside factors with whom we have settled accounts.” Nils spoke in a sarcastic, almost parodical voice that would have been funny if applied to anything else. “No, though. You’re right. If it makes you feel any better, we’re the only terrorists at tonights’ venue. No, uh…my parents like you. My mom for good reasons, my dad for bad ones. Not anything creepy,” he said quickly, “More…deeply self-serving.” 

I tugged his arm.  “Okay, let’s go before I chicken out and make up a cold or something.”

“Oh, I never even considered ‘feign sudden illness’ when your parents were about to show up.” Nils led me into the restaurant, and when we made our entrance at a restaurant for wealthy people, fairly dressed up, we turned heads walking in. He whispered, “Take bets - do we look good, or are we just getting looks for being local heroes?”  He spotted his parents table and led me towards it, pulling out a chair for me and seating me before taking his own seat. 

His mother looked at me, and gave me a reassuring smile. 

“So,” Nils said, almost breathless. “Mom, Father, this is my girlfriend, Lash Botelho. I’m glad you’re finally meeting her formally. Lash, this is Dr. Michael Andover, you met him at the hospital, and this is Katherine Andover, attorney-at-law. Lash is a student of business and computer science, with a minor in graphic design - and she’s an excellent artist on a personal level. We’ve done a bunch of projects together.”

“So you guys met through school,” his mother seemed interested. “And Lash - business, computer science, and graphic design? That’s quite a lot. Heavy course load. I thought Nils was putting on a lot when he was doing computer science, political science, and history at the same time, but if I remember right your course load is even heavier.”

“It helps that I already do a lot of work with nonprofits,” I admitted. “So the computer science and graphic design were areas I already had a solid foundation in.  The business courses are the ones where I’m learning the most new information.”

“Nils says the same thing about poli-sci and computer science - lot of activist work. Doesn’t make it less impressive that you can balance all that with working outside school as well.” She said, quietly. 

Nils’ father broke into the conversation. “You work with nonprofits,” he said, suddenly much more interested. “Which ones?” 

Nils’ eyes got sharp. “Mostly ones that help poor people access resources they need.” 

I saw an opportunity and leapt in with both feet. “Right now, I do a lot with clean water initiatives, to help minimize exposure to insect- and waterborne illnesses. West Nile, Zika, even e.coli.  Things that are easy to prevent but devastating if you can’t afford treatment.”

I saw wheels turning in his father’s head. “Any particular foundations I should look at? Nils is always vetting my charity donations for me, and that sounds like a worthy one.” 

“I actually just took on a contract for one that has developed a straw that filters any water that is fifty-percent or less contaminants into potable water, without a need to boil it.  I’ll find the name and have him pass it on to you.  The proof of concept is just incredible.”

He grunted, with a tone that sounded like he was impressed against his will, and Nils looked back and forth between us, clearly nervous.

Mrs. Andover was back to talking to me. “So, what do you two work on together?”

Nils glanced at his parents. “Guys, you know, this is a lot less… ‘parents meeting my girlfriend’ than I thought it was going to be. Honestly you’re talking like you’re deciding whether or not to invest in a startup.” 

Mrs. Andover started laughing. “Well, Nils, honestly, you tell us basically nothing about this girl. All I know about her is that she’s beautiful, she’s clearly won you over, you two work together, she’s clearly brilliant based on what she’s studying and keeping up with, and now that she does work with some pretty impressive nonprofits. I’m trying to get to know her, and I figure asking about work is less likely to be too invasive.” 

Dr. Andover shrugged. “We also know her father works at the hospital. And that both her parents got hurt in the…”

Mrs. Andover glowered at him. “Wait, both of them? You didn’t…Nils, you didn’t tell me both her parents were hurt, and I suppose my husband couldn’t have for HIPPA reasons. Lash, how are your parents doing? I’m so sorry, I should have led with that.”

Grateful for something a little less formal, I relaxed. “Baba - my father - is home and doing much better than expected.  He lost his leg, but is very determined to learn to use the prosthesis.  His physical therapist actually threatened to take it away because he rubbed blisters from pushing himself too hard.” I gave a small laugh. “It’s good to see, though.  And Mama came home two days ago… she is still on breathing treatments, but off of twenty-four-seven oxygen - she had smoke inhalation damage.  She was very upset she still cannot shout at Baba when he is being stubborn, but my sister found an airhorn from somewhere and no one has had peace since.”  I stopped for a drink of water and noticed all eyes on me. My face flushed and I covered my mouth. “Oh my gosh, I was rambling, I’m so sorry.”

Nils grabbed my hand. “Don’t apologize, I love you.” He blinked. “When you talk about your family, I mean.”  

Mrs. Andover was watching us, oblivious to me trying to process that Nils had just said that, and she started chuckling, abruptly. “I can’t say airhorn is the method I’d have gone with, but…it’s good to know that men are stubborn like that across race, culture, creed, or birth.” Her voice took on the slight timbre of an old poem near the end.

Nils blinked. “Did. Did you just quote Rudyard Kipling at my Indian-American girlfriend?” 

“Pakistani-Indian,” I corrected absently. “And yes, but it’s still very true.  You’re just as stubborn as Baba, you just had more appropriate clothing on.”

His mother blushed, his father didn’t seem to recognize why what his wife had done might have been a faux pas, and I forged ahead to keep things from going south as Dr. Andover changed the subject. “Have either of you eaten here before? It’s a bit upscale from the places Nils prefers, normally.” 

Nils glowered. “I took her here for the first date.” 

Mrs. Andover smiled. “Oh, very nice.” The waiter came by and took our orders, refilling the glasses with water. “This place is really spicy, especially the Ethiopian side of the menu.”

Then his father asked a question, and Nils glared at him with absolute loathing. “So, Lash, you and Nils made quite the effective television appearance. You’re already doing a lot in public service, do you have any designs in a career there?”

Nils squeezed my knee under the table, but this was the one question I had been bracing myself for, thankfully. “Well, my goal is to set up a business that focuses on boosting the visibility of nonprofits, while contributing a significant portion of our revenue into areas where it can create the biggest impact: schools, literacy programs, health education, things like that.  Try to shore up the foundations where normal budgets may not be able to.”  And here’s hoping Nils doesn’t die trying not to laugh at that answer.

“Hm.” Mrs. Andover glowered at her husband as he continued, this was clearly an argument they’d had before, “And those are all worthy goals, but going directly into politics with your education and Nils’, together, you could directly impact all of those, and their budgets, far more direct power with what you can do, if you’re willing to get into the system together and change it.”

I shook my head firmly. “I understand where you are coming from, Dr. Andover, but I’m sure it surprises nobody here that I very much disagree.  Public office is far more restrictive than independent enterprise, foremost - I would have to balance special interests with what would be considered ‘pet projects’, whereas through my own business I can connect the charities with who needs them the most, while ensuring the charities are as visible as possible to maximize their operating budgets.  And besides, Nils doesn’t strike me as someone who would thrive in public office.” I turned to him and visibly squeezed his hand. “No offense.”

“None taken. My father has rarely, if ever, liked the idea of me going into policy rather than running for office, despite the fact that policy experts maintain far more freedom to operate in personal lives while having more influence than politicians - just much less prestige. Honestly I don’t know what led people to believe I’d be good at public office. I gave one very smooth speech on TV.” He took on that slightly mocking tone that I abruptly realized must have been from a lifetime of practice. “Which, to be fair, does seem like the majority of what voters expect. And Father - never try to push my girlfriend into your side of this argument again. I know the only reason you tried to do this is because you thought she’d help me with demographics I’d otherwise struggle with - nice code for ‘people of color that white boy extraordinaire Nils Andover can’t exactly relate to’ by the way.”

I let the silence that followed hang for a moment while the waiter set down our food, before giving Mrs. Andover an openly curious look. “Don’t worry, babe.  I am sure your mother strongly agrees.”  When she looked surprised, I casually gestured with my water. “After all, Mrs. Andover, you’re a non-name partner in a law firm prestigious enough to represent a class action lawsuit against not just the city, but the police, and yet I’ve never seen you run for office.  Surely with that kind of acumen, you would be a shoo-in for the public defender’s office, or the DA.  All the way up to Attorney General, easily.”  Nils looked at me in confusion, and I murmured “You seriously thought I wasn’t going to look up the law firm that is representing my community? She’s partner, Nils.”

“I’m aware how she ranks in her firm,” he murmured back, “I guess I didn’t put that together, good eye.” 

Mrs. Andover chuckled. “Oh, I like the two of you together. Good eye, Lash. People should stay where they think they can make the strongest impact in what they’re passionate about - if you don’t think that’s office, don’t run for office. Oh, and Lash, offhand - I can’t say why, but your community ought to start taking notes about any and all interactions with the police from here on out.” 

Nils smirked. “That means they’re going to be unhappy with the results of the lawsuit.”

Mrs. Andover flicked a wrist. “No, just that her and her community ought to be taking notes and keeping documentation. Any further statements cannot be made at this time.”

“Mama is a secretary,” I assured them. “Taking notes is a compulsion for her, and letting her know will give her something to do other than honk at us.”

“I’m glad. Let her know I’d be happy to speak to her directly as well.” She slipped me a card. 

Nils took a bite of his food, simply enjoying the blend of spices - and then turned to watch his father take a gulp of water. I had been training him to increase his tolerance, and almost certainly to flex he’d ordered one of the spiciest things on the menu. 

Granted, even my tolerance wasn’t that high, so he was almost certainly just hiding the pain to fuck with his parents. I just grinned and scooped up a bite of stew. “I don’t know exactly what they add to the okra stew to make it so good, but it is certainly in my top ten favorite dishes.  Mrs. Andover?” I had noticed she’d ordered the same - a very mild but extremely flavorful stew.

“Oh, it’s excellent. One of the reasons I love coming here. I’m glad Nils took you here for the first date. Means some of what I taught him stuck.” 

Nils blushed. “I mean…good food, good company?” He was dutifully eating his food, but I could hear him struggling not to choke, shifting between pleasure and agony with each bite.

His mother gave him a flat look. “Make a girl feel special, take her somewhere nice with a bunch of really good options.” 

Finally, I had mercy on both my boyfriend and his profoundly rude father and waved down our server. “I am really craving spiced buttermilk… any chance we can get four glasses of it?  I don’t mind paying extra if it has to be made special. I didn’t see it on the menu.”

“Absolutely not. We invited you,” to my surprise, Nils’ father spoke first. “We’ll cover. But yes, spiced buttermilk would be good.” 

In much less time than I expected, the server had returned with four glasses of thick, bright orange drink.  No sooner had he walked away than I took a long sip of mine, rolling my eyes in exaggerated pleasure. “Buttermilk with turmeric, ginger, saffron, cinnamon, and a chai infusion.  It compliments the food so well.”

Nils took a slow sip, clearly restraining himself from chugging, and took a breath. “It is excellent. Thank you for the suggestion.” He took another bite of the chicken, tasting the spice, the flavor, the heat, and then a slow sip of the milk. I could see a slight bead of sweat tracing down the side of his face, and wondered, briefly, about my boyfriend’s pain tolerance. And why he was doing this. 

Mrs. Andover took a sip of her own, eyes widening. “Oh, this is lovely!” She pushed the last glass closer to her husband. “It’s… The closest I can describe it is it’s like a glass of melted orange sherbet. You should try it.”

After the first sip, every ounce of Dr. Andover’s composure collapsed as he inhaled half the glass.  The facade was immediately put back in place however, as he sat up straight and set the glass down gently. “I agree, it’s quite the compliment to the food.  I may indulge in a second, but we shall see.”

Nils took another bite of the berber-slathered chicken, smiling at the taste, and took a sip of the milk before the wave of heat hit him - he seemed to have gotten the timing down, since the facade no longer looked quite so forced. “Excellent suggestion, Lash. Would anyone like to try each other’s dishes?”

Mrs. Andover blinked, but smiled. “Oh, does Lash’s family do that, too? I know the Parsons do, and since Lash and I ordered the same thing…Here, Lash, you can have some of my side if I can have some of yours.” 

I grinned, nodding. “My family eats communal meals, usually, so we all share, yes. But… I didn’t get to try the rosti last time and will gladly swap you for some of my dolmades - they’re not spicy, but very pickled.”

She smiled, and put some of the rostis on my plate and took some of my dolmades. I wisely turned down some of what Nils had ordered, and sensing my trepidation, so did his mother - though we both took some of his side, and gave him a bit of ours. His father blindly lunged ahead, clearly thinking the idea of swapping was ridiculous but not wanting to annoy his wife, and took a bit of Nils’ chicken, and Nils took a bit of the goat from his father, eating it with a smile. 

I could feel the malevolence in Nils smile as his father bit into the berber-slathered chicken and rapidly gulped the milk, all trace of composure gone. “How…how were you keeping your calm through eating that the whole meal?” He managed to get out between gasps.

“I’m dating an Indian-Pakistani girl. She’s been training my spice tolerance.” Nils’ voice was casual. 

Mrs. Andover seemed to be ignoring her son and husband’s antics, instead calmly gesturing with a spoon at her spouse’s meal. “How spicy is that?”  When I glanced at the men, she shook her head. “They’ve always been like that, it’s best not to engage.”

I glanced again, before staring at the goat and trying to remember what had been ordered.  Slowly, I answered. “It isn’t very spicy - I think it’s a bit bland, to be honest - but because it’s so fatty, the spice stays around and builds.  You’re supposed to eat it with a bread or some other carb, to help.”

Without asking, she scooped a chunk of goat onto each of our plates. “Okay, show me. I love trying new things.”

Hesitantly, I tore a piece of bread off, and proceeded to use it to pick a chunk of goat off the bone, sheer habit causing me to use my fingers. The piece came away cleanly, and I shoved the entire bundle in my mouth before realizing what I had done.

To my abject horror, I looked up to see Mrs. Andover - coiffed, coutured, rich Mrs. Andover - with her fingers in her mouth and a look of delight on her face. She chewed quickly and swallowed before I could apologize for my manners. “Oh, that is so nice!  And much easier than using a fork, no wonder he was struggling so much!”

“Ma’am, I am so sorry - “  I covered my mouth as she tore off another piece of bread and attacked the goat with gusto.

“I asked how it was meant to be eaten, Lash.” She gestured at herself, particularly her face. “Do I look like the kind of woman accustomed to eating spicy food properly?” When I was forced to shake my head, half surprised she’d asked like that, she added. “For God’s sake, Lash, do you think for an instant Nils got his sense of humor from his father?”

I glanced at Dr. Andover - still playing spicy-food chicken with his son and losing decisively - before shaking my head. “I just - Eating with fingers is not an American thing,” I finished lamely.

“As Nils will explain to you or indeed anyone at length - and has explained to me, and his father - that is very much an old world prohibition imported from upper-class Europeans, and lower-class Americans only developed issues with it when the average American became wealthy enough to have easy access to silverware. He will remind everyone who even tangentially brings this up how recent that is.” She gave a faint smile. “I wasn’t born wealthy, you know. I’m from the generation of Americans where one could work their way through college provided one started out merely middle class.” 

“ ‘Merely’,” I mused. “And trust me that I am the last person Nils will need to lecture about silverware.  He’s seen Baba eat palak paneer with his fingers and an extreme amount of dignity.” I paused and made a confused face. “I am still not sure how he keeps it out of his moustache, I’ll be honest. And it’s quite a moustache. He’s very proud of it.”

She chuckled. “Fair enough. I suppose I should have said, ‘I’m not judging’. My husband came from money, I did not. I think you and Nils are great together, by the way. I love the way you talk to each other.” 

“We do argue, sometimes,” I confessed. “But usually it’s cultural, and we find our way through pretty quickly.  My parents adore him, so there’s that.  Mori - my sister - tolerates him well enough, which is practically a glowing approval from her.”

“A young man like Nils should have a partner he argues with. If there’s no arguments with a personality like that, it means either one of you is totally bulling over the other by force of will, or both of you are taking turns manipulating the other. Working through arguments when they come up is a much better sign.” She shrugged. “I’m glad your parents like him. I like you - and as to my husband…you impressed him and he respects you and your family. That will, in the long run, be better than him just “liking” you.” 

I caught Nils stabbing another chunk of hallucigenically spicy chicken, and snatched his plate and fork away with the same hand. “I am not going to coddle you later when that is just as spicy as it was going in,” I warned him calmly.  “Rice, sherbet, and buttermilk.”

Nils nodded. “Got it babe.”

Mrs. Andover pulled the dregs of the goat away from her spouse, pointing at me and Nils. “Same thing. Rice, sherbert, dairy. Lash is a lovely and clever girl, stop antagonizing our son, insert lecture here.”  With that, she rested her chin elegantly on her intertwined fingers, winking at me. “I think you and I are going to get along great.  You have my number, let’s set up a ladies’ day - invite your mother and sister.  I’ll treat if your family chooses the restaurant.”

One and a half out of two was a win in my books. “I’ll talk to them about it, see if we can schedule it before Mori heads back home.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Incorrect Quote

Lawyer: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?

Dr Andover: No.

Lawyer: Did you check for blood pressure?

Dr Andover: No.

Lawyer: Did you check for breathing?

Dr Andover, sighing: No...

Lawyer: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?

Dr Andover: No.

Lawyer: How can you be so sure, Doctor?

Dr Andover: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.

Lawyer: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nonetheless?

Dr Andover: ... Yes, it is possible that he could've been alive and practising law.

[dralexanderhealthandaesthetics]

Dr Alexander qualified as a doctor from the university of Leeds in 2011. She went on to complete her GP training at Guys and St Thomas hospital in 2017. She has enjoyed working as a GP in the NHS and private sector for the past 7 years and continues to do so. She has a special interest in sexual and reproductive health and is highly experienced in women’s health.

Dr Alexander completed her advanced training in Botox and dermal fillers on London’s Harley Street. She was fortunate to train with leading experts and pioneers of the industry. She gains experience with an expert aesthetics doctor twice a month in London and takes part in regular case discussions with his team to further her knowledge and stay up to date with the latest techniques and research.

Dr Alexander takes a holistic approach to ageing and wellness. She likes to optimise health and lifestyle to ensure skin vitality. She takes time to formulate a personalised treatment plan for each patient and empowers them to look and feel the very best version of themselves. By using high quality aesthetic products she achieves natural and radiant results for her patients.

Website: https://dralexanderhealthandaesthetics.co.uk/

Address: Chiros Health Clinic, 36 East Street, Andover, Hampshire, South East, SP10 1ES

Phone Number: 01264324924

Email Id: doctor@dralexanderhealthandaesthetics.co.uk

[zooterchet]

Massachusetts State Politics ("Damn-Yankee")

1991: NSA OP-INT registered, as "Criminal Warfare", through "Internal Affairs" division, Boston Municipal City Hall. Father, offered multiple 401K accounts, and IRA, plus pensions for each business having worked, afforded paperwork per division separated; immune to Freemasonic MI-6 and Vatican Italian monitoring.

1996: EON registered, as "Irish Provisional", through husband, convinced "Sinn Fein" is a peaceful cause, "totally legal"; conversations with wife, Colombian Army DEA. Given to Gast family of Vermont; refused, given gymnasium test scores on the Mile, transferred to open refusal, bookies numbers, "Ptolemy", Tarantino authorship; listed as "Buddy", special education teacher. Recruited off Quakeworld, for Arctic MUD. Selected Tarsis, New England, passed.

1999: Mother dead, registered as Hopkinton PD, through "Schuck" family; relatives of "Woody" Allen, through display of "Deconstructing Harry" and "Manhattan Murder Mystery". Cleared of murder, FBI files given in flaw of "Batman" franchise, to Hopkinton Police Department, through State Police. Franklin Spencer, Christopher Dumais, assigned to write villain; written as "Electrocutioner", and later subsequently, "Scarecrow" in Batgirl, for Kennedy family.

2003: Class prank set up, to frame as having used ROTC to prank Hopkinton OSS schools, to protect from Biden; each student, registered as refusing Federal Republic of Germany and Nation-State of Israel, through mass quandry quarry. Israeli Germans, mobilized, out of Andover, and Faye Private School. Kennedy, Agnews, Nixons, Coolidges, Garfields, and Bushes, placed in permanent residency of Middlesex County, to protect children. Reporting signum number, Raven "Silver" Laventi, "Stitches", child through George W. Bush out of prostitute. Entrusted via father, met through Benjamin "Brown", real last name unknown; Falklands War sequence of parents, "Bloom County", Reynalda sought.

2008: Richard Ober, assigned "David Michael Charlebois", to deal with "Jim Shooter", real name "Andrew Donson", alias "Doctor Joshua Golden"; literature PhD, recruited against will by Mossad St. Cyr, French, to work in Bridgewater Triangle, under home guard of FBI theories unit, "The Mob". Extracted, in 2011, by David Charlebois, FBI report; federal building in Boston, under siege, by Mossad State Police, United Nations forces, unable to retrieve Boston municipal police from Turkish, Italian, and Irish hostels.

2016: Employment at SNHU, ITT Tech reformed school, to write comics and form program. African-American civil rights, and seizure of "black programs", by British Protestants, identified as "Babylonian Judaism", crimes of "beggars unions".

2024: South Boston Mob reactivates; The Bat (Bulgers), The Joker (Carnegies), Jacks (Jacksons), Sullivan (O'Neills), and Moses (Goldens), come to aid US Navy debts, out of Deep South (Arkansas White Supremacists). Silvas, Hitlers, and Bundies, summon Pasha forces, recorded under lithogram; Robotrek, (Enix Games).

[breakersmansh]

12 Iuchar 2566 EB/ July 12, 2023

Made contact with Massachusetts public housing today and tried to get placed near my polo club in Andover. She takes 5-10 years to get housing up there.

Invited Reaper to go on a date date, family date, or group date to Boston Polo Club. Let’s see if he does.

My Boston accent is getting better.

Talked to my doctor today too. Talked to All Caps Bro, Colin, Paul Rabil, Brett, Todd, Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, my grad school, Casey Powell

[twentythreemillionstories]

Saturday 10th June 2023, Andover, 2.29pm.

#149,992 — A woman was arrested in Japan for sneaking into a man’s house and living in his closet without him knowing. But after he dies, prison officials refuse to honour his request, saying that they do not donate to charities. The nice, honest and handsome prison doctor believe she’s innocent and tries to help her out.

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 16: "...and Tragedy"

Pretty sure that title says it all, so I apologize in advance. Please don't kill me!

Co-written and beta-read by @baelpenrose, so he's partially to blame. But he did pick out the song lyrics!

Warnings for racism, hate crimes, off screen deaths of minor characters.

Save yourself a penny for the ferryman

Save yourself and let them suffer

In hope, in love

Mankind works in mysterious ways

Nightwish, “Planet Hell”

Lash

Despite Nils’ earlier errors, the conversation with my parents was going surprisingly well. At some point, Nils had let slip that he didn’t get along with his father, and Baba just let the floodgates open on how hard it was to deal with man.  Apparently, Mr. - sorry, DOCTOR -  Andover was a complete and utter bastard, even by Baba’s very forgiving standards.

To say Nils and Baba got along was a huge understatement. “Oh no, sir, I’m not offended, everyone knows that he’s a great surgeon and an amazingly mean person. I think there’s a running gag somewhere about not letting him near the patients until after they’ve gone under?” 

Baba chuckled - practically a roaring laugh for him - and nodded, knocking one hand on the table. “Yes! The nurses are the only people who are not intimidated, and seeing them physically drag your father away from a patient is often the highlight of my day.”

“It’s probably the highlight of the patient’s day too, they just don’t know it. Trust me, waking up to that frowny, disappointed-Catholic face when you’re already in pain…not ideal.” Nils grinned.

Mama started to say something, but I didn’t hear her as the sound of broken glass made Nils’ head jerk over to one side. “Nils, it’s a cafe. Glasses break all the - “

“Something is burning,” he cut me off. “Chemical burning, not food burning.”

Just as he said that, another crash led to one of the aunties we had been watching earlier jumping up with a scream, beating at the hem of her skirt.  Another auntie threw the contents of the nearest cup on it, steam pouring from what had been a burning piece of fabric. Nils stood, yanking me to my feet by my arm. “Start getting everyone out of here,” he demanded. “If you smell gas, find another exit.”

I grabbed my parents first. “Someone is setting the cafe on fire,” I explained. “We need to go.  Find an exit that isn’t on fire, and go through there.”

They took off, grabbing people as they went. Usually, Uncle’s shop was wide open, with doors that rolled up rather than windows, but tonight was especially chilly, so most were closed and locked down.  Each one I touched was scalding hot, and the only option was one that wasn’t on fire yet but reeked of gasoline. “Lift your skirts!” I shouted, heaving the door up and gesturing people through. “Don’t drag it in the gas!” 

Another wash of heat from behind, and I heard Nils shouting something, along with Baba and Mama. Both my parents were determined to help get as many people out as possible: Mama hurling any available liquid on clothes as they caught, Baba carrying older women out and rushing back in for another.  Nils had pulled his leather jacket’s sleeves down over his hands and wrenched open one of the latches on the rolling window shutters before shoving it up. Flames roared on the other side, and I saw my father pick someone up and rush through, shielding them from the heat with his own body.

Mama and I took the hint and started yanking cloths from tables and shoving them in a sink full of dirty water, ignoring complaints as we wrapped them around people who could not get out fast enough under their own power. Each one, Baba or Nils would lift and carry out while we found the next, dunking whatever cloth we could in any water we could find. “UNCLE!” I screamed. “You have to get out! UNCLE!”

I couldn’t see him anywhere. “Did Uncle get out!?” I shouted at Baba.

“He is not on the outside,” came the response as a young mother and her baby were wrapped and ushered through the flaming exits.

Smoke started filling my throat, and I dropped to the floor, coughing for cleaner air. Someone pulled at my arm, and I yanked it back without looking. “UNCLE!” I screamed again before another coughing fit.

“We have to get out of here!” Mama was pulling me, Nils was pulling. A blast of fire came from the kitchen as shocking cold, stinking water poured over my head. “NOW, Elakshi!”

Mama and I were ushered out by Nils and his singed leather coat, Baba on the other side. I fell into the cold night air, gasping thirstily for it, as Baba ran back in one last time, shouting something I couldn’t understand.  My vision swam as I tried to look around and count faces, desperate to find all of them.

I was still frantically looking for a handful of people - Imran, Uncle, one of the aunties who constantly tittered at me and Nils - when I was shoved to the ground by an unearthly noise. I shoved myself from the ground, hands cutting on the asphalt, to see Mama hit the ground coughing, Nils barely standing and holding up Baba.

“Lash, help!” Nils was coughing. “Press your hand down, here,” He planted a point on my father’s thigh. “Broken glass hit him. Hold it down no matter how much he yells. I have to get a belt off and make a tourniquet or he’s gonna die.” 

Hot tears streaked down my face as I did what he told me. Baba groaned, and I pressed down like I was trying to crush his leg into the pavement.  Nils ripped Baba’s belt off and tightened it around his leg, hard, twisted it, pinned it there with a pen, hard enough to make Baba shout. “Sorry, hold it here. DO NOT TAKE THIS OFF until the doctors look at it. Please.” His eyes were blazing.

“Check on Mama!” I begged, cranking the tourniquet as tightly as I could, slamming my shoulder into Baba’s chest to both keep him from moving and hide my sobs. “She can’t breathe.”

Nils sprinted over and I couldn’t see what he did, but he seemed to be giving Mama an airway check, then water, and pulled her over towards me, slowly sitting her down away from the fire. “Your dad got the worst of it. Your mom needs oxygen when the medics get here, best I can do is keep her from overexerting in the meantime. Keep her calm. I’ll keep an eye on your dad.” 

Frantically, I ran my hands over my mother, checking her for any hidden injuries.  I took several slaps to the arms and two directly to the face, but kept checking. When I was satisfied, I turned to Nils and Baba, where Nils was doing the same I had done - pinning Baba to the ground with one shoulder while cranking the tension as tight as possible on the belt around his leg.  A smaller explosion within the cafe snapped my head up, and I started running. “UNCLE!” I screamed, still not having seen his face outside the now-burning shop.

A hand darted out and yanked an ankle out from under me, just in time for a lanky, leather-clad leg to pin me down. “I have two horribly burned and wounded Botelhos right now. I do not need a third. You can’t help him. Your mother starts,” he coughed, then finished in a snarl, “screaming she’s gonna die. Her lungs can’t handle that right now. Keep her calm.” Nils' voice was furious, and panicked, but as driven as I’d ever heard it.  

I nodded numbly, going to reassure Mama while glancing around frantically.  The young mother Baba had practically carried out was bouncing her screaming baby, and my nerves unexpectedly started calming.  I don’t know that I had ever been so happy to hear a baby scream so hard in my life, but it was the reality check I needed in that moment.  Those of us out here were still alive, by inches or miles, and we had to stay that way to keep the bastards who had done this from winning.

I pulled Mama to a sitting position. “We need to keep everyone calm,” I told her, well aware of what drove her more than anything else. I saw Nils mouth something that could only mean ‘tell her not to start shouting’. “I am going to prop you up where you can keep an eye on Baba, and I am going to bring people who are upset but not hurt. Can you help me keep them calm?”

This woman - my magnificent monument of a mother - looked at me like I had deeply offended her and all my ancestors. “Set me right there,” she gestured to a spot close but in clear line of sight to Baba and Nils, “and bring them to me.”

I did exactly what she asked. As neighbors came down to bring water and blankets, Mama commanded them like a general with her armies so that I could focus on those who were injured and needed more.  Even then, Nils would shout what people needed, and Mama would command if someone didn’t listen.  Someone would start wailing, looking for a family member who was unaccounted for, and after Mama started coughing, I did my best impression of her.

“It is the living who need us now. We will attend the rest when these are in the hospital.”

Baba was the first to go in an ambulance, with Nils shouting down his objections. “You may have waited too long to save the leg already and I don’t want you throwing a clot. GO!”

Every argument of “damn the leg” was met with an aggressive “you could still die, and then who will make sure the babies stay still for an x-ray”, until Baba surrendered under a murderous glare from the three of us.  After that, it was the elderly, burn victims, smoke inhalation victims - a whole new argument from Mama, one which required sedation - and finally those of us who were part of the walking wounded were left to lick our wounds in peace.

“You should go, Lash. Your family’s hurt.” 

“I need to call Mori,” I responded before adding lamely, “My sister. In case you didn’t pick up on that. She… she’ll want to know.”

“I can drive if you need. Call on the way.” he paused, then added, “Since the hospital is on the other end of town, it’s…probably better if someone drives you anyway.”

I felt myself falling into my mother’s role, unexpectedly and out of a habit I hadn’t realized I had until now. “The apartment needs to be locked up. I need to do that. And I need to let Uncle’s widow know… she shouldn’t have to hear about this from strangers.  Baba and Mama will ask, so I can’t go to them without doing those things.”

Nils looked at me. “Lash. If you don’t want to go yet, if you can’t face it, I won’t make you. But your sister can lock up if she lives with you. Since you’re calling her. And Uncle’s widow is another call you can make. It’s a bit of a drive, it’s on the other end of the city.”

“No,” I cut in. “Mori lives an hour away, with her family. And I don’t know how it works for your family, but I do not want Uncle’s wife hearing this from a stranger. I can - and have - faced what is happening to my parents. But, when they wake up, they will ask these things, and I have lied once today. I will not lie about something so important.”  I drew myself as tall as possible and sniffed back a sob. “You may escort me, if you wish, and then drive me to the hospital. Baba is in surgery, and Mama is in triage, so I can do nothing for them right now. But I can do the right thing for other people.”

Nils looked at me for a long moment, then he nodded. “Come on, then. Call your sister on the way to meeting with Uncle’s widow. We’ll tell her first.”

His phone started ringing, and he glanced at it and hung up. I only barely made out that his father had called him. “Come on. Let’s make sure you tell who you need to tell.”

[dennlawgroup]

Professional Liability Lawyer Andover MA

Professional liability lawyers in Andover, MA specialize in legal cases involving professional misconduct or negligence. These cases can include malpractice lawsuits against doctors, lawyers, accountants, and other professionals.

These lawyers can help professionals who are facing legal action for alleged misconduct or negligence in their field. They can also help professionals who are being investigated by regulatory bodies, such as licensing boards or professional associations. In these cases, a professional liability lawyer can help the professional understand the charges against them and defend themselves against the allegations.

 Professional liability lawyers can also help professionals who are facing civil lawsuits brought by clients or customers. These types of lawsuits can include claims of breach of contract, fraud, or other types of misconduct. A professional liability lawyer can help the professional understand the legal claims against them and defend themselves in court.

 In addition to defending professionals against legal action, professional liability lawyers can also help professionals take proactive measures to protect themselves from potential legal claims. This can include reviewing contracts and other legal documents, providing advice on legal compliance, and helping to implement risk management strategies.

 When working with a professional liability lawyer, it is important to find someone with experience and expertise in the specific field of the professional in question. For example, if a doctor is facing a malpractice lawsuit, it is important to find a lawyer who has experience handling medical malpractice cases.

 It is also important to find a lawyer who is a good communicator and who can explain the legal process in a way that the professional can understand. This will make it easier for the professional to make important decisions about their case and will help to ensure that the lawyer and the professional are working together effectively.

 Overall, professional liability lawyers in Andover, MA play an important role in protecting professionals from legal action and helping them to navigate the legal system. They can help professionals to understand and defend themselves against allegations of misconduct or negligence, and can also help professionals to take proactive measures to protect themselves from potential legal claims.

 To pursue a claim, you will need to prove your case. Unfortunately, malpractice and ethical misconduct aren’t always easy to detect. At Denn Law Group, our professional liability lawyers are seasoned investigators. We can evaluate your claim and determine what evidence we will need to prove your case. We methodically investigate your claim to build the strongest possible case. Our focus is to help recover from any harm you suffered while holding the other party accountable. 

 To be clear, an unexpected or unfavourable outcome is not proof of malpractice or unethical conduct. However, if you suspect your attorney has caused you harm, either intentionally or negligently, you should consult with an experienced professional liability lawyer at Denn Law Group. For more details about Denn Law Group Visit: https://dennlawgroup.com/ or call: 978-252-4567

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dr Peter Andover x Reader || Drabble

Plot: In this issue of 'making Peter take care of his mental health', you decide to enlist a rabbit for some animal therapy. 🐇🐇🐇

Warnings: This is just very fluffy!! Pun totally intended 😄 ^^

"Hey Dr!" You call cheerfully, letting yourself right on into his office and completely ignoring his dead-eyes as he looks up deadpanned from his paperwork and you click the door shut again behind you. Waltzing steadily right up to the desk, you carefully lug a pet carrier with you and heave it gently onto it. "How're you today?"

"Fine... " His voice is full of exhaustion, heavy with melancholy, before his eyes flicker towards the carrier and theirs lift in his tone when he speaks next; though he does not look any better, yet. "What's that?"

Going ahead and unlatching the compartment door, you reach in and give whatever is inside a few sweet pets. "A bunny. Her name's Ghost."

Dr Andover's eyes follow you as you lift Ghost out of the carrier door and into your arms, giving the little rabbit more pets. She's quite fluffy, a beatiful pure white colour like his hair, and quite calm. Sweet and happy in your arms. "And uh, why do you have Ghost with you??"

"She's for you." You tell him bluntly, gesturing at him with your free arm to push his chair back from the desk. "Go on- Put your pen down."

"What- " Dropping the pen, Peter is sits back so confused, mind still thick with terrible thoughts and a mountain of paperwork he has to complete. And- and now there's a rabbit and he-- oh god is it Easter already?? No, surely not-

"Ghost is living with me while her momma, my sister, is outta town- and she is very lovely. Though she's been eating my wicker laundry basket." Making dissappointed tut tut tut noises, you gradually round the desk until Peter's craning his neck back to look skeptical at you. "I just thought she would like to meet you."

"You what- "

Now standing right by the doctor, his hands conveniently set on the arms of his desk chair leaving room on his lap (Now is the monent to strike, you're thinking. Before he understands and kicks you out. Well, tries to), you tilt your head at him. "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

"Uh, no."

You give a peculiar look. "Scared?"

Vaguely, through the bafflement and the dark clouds in his eyes, Dr Fearless looks insulted at that. "Of a rabbit?"

"Didn't think so." Okay great. Ever so carefully you lean down and release the warm little bunny in Dr Andover's lap even as his mouth falls open to protest. "Careful... "

As you straighten up and set your hand on the back of Peter's chair, you watch the bunny rabbit step around in his lap for a few moments and smell at him with her little twitchy whiskery nose with a bemused look on your face- because almost as soon as Ghosts weight settled in his lap, Peter's whole body relaxed and he offered his fingers to Ghost for a curious sniff. "Oh- Hello, there... you're cute, I'll admit... "

A little grin quirks at the corner of your mouth as Peter almost immediately bonds with the little rabbit. A grin slip across his tired, haggard face as Ghost pats up the mans chest, reaching for his face, and yours widens.

For a few minutes you stand there, just making sure that Peter is fully emursed in the 'therapy', stroking Ghosts back with his whole hand and totally focused on the feel, before you step away and quietly just start to tidy up the office a little.

"... very slick, Y/N."

"-Hm?" You look up from the plate of mugs you've gathered and faking confusion. Whatever do you mean, sir?? I'm a simple person just bringing a rabbit into work for show and tell.

He's looking up the tiniest smirk is playing at the corner of his mouth for a moment, looking like he's going to call you out, Ghost still snuggled in his lap- until he just gently shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. "I don't know. Dont worry." He does know- but he looks back down to Ghost with lovely soft eyes and you sigh; continuing to collect dirty dishes strength about the little well-decorated room.

Peter sits with Ghost for a good half an hour before snapping back to his work-mind, and making you leave. He did ask you to bring Ghost back again tomorrow, though, 'if it happens to cross your mind'.

[tinalbion]

Hey so whenever you have the time, could you do and imagine where you have a fear of sex, so you go see Dr.Andover. When the two of you meet there is a mural attraction. Instead of using the fear simulation, he decided that he would be your treatment.

Oh anon, you are a genius and you know he'd be SO into you asking him to be your treatment? The ego on this man would skyrocket, you can't convince me otherwise. But having such a phobia just takes a lot of careful actions and very open communication. Imagine how SOFT this would be?! Omg, well, I hope you enjoy this~

"Show Me How" ||

Doctor Peter Andover x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit; gender-neutral sex (kept it as vague as possible since it wasn't stated in the ask, I hope it's okay!), masturbation, doctor x patient 'relationship', consensual sex, guided masturbation

Length: 3k

Dr. Andover had seen very many things come in and out of his office, but never did he see something quite like you as you sat across from him. 

You came in with a case of genophobia, which was normal in most cases, but yours was incredibly elevated and the mere thought of any sexual intimacy had sent you into a spiraling panic. This was ruining any relationships that would blossom, it kept you feeling alone and isolated, and even your friends felt awkward whenever they would ask you to come and hang out when they invited their significant others. You wanted to see if there was a way you could at least lower the intensity of your phobia, you figured there was no way of truly curing you from it, so you heard through word of mouth of an incredibly talented doctor that could cure people of their worst fears. 

You did try many other ways with much trial and error, so you were desperate to find a way to cure yourself from the panic attacks, you at least wanted that.

So your roommate set up an appointment and got you in to see the doctor this week, and here you sat before him, curled into yourself on the plush chair in front of his desk. 

"Hello, I'm Doctor Andover, you must be Y/L/N," he greeted and held out his hand. 

You took it hesitantly and shook it quickly, then retracted your hand almost as quickly as you offered it. You noted how soft his hand felt in yours but immediately shook that thought away. 

"Hi," You replied simply. "I heard you're the best at helping cure people's fears. And I uh, well, mine is kinda heightened."

Doctor Andover chuckled and nodded as he sat back against his chair. "How kind of you to say," his voice replied smoothly. "I will admit, I do have a reputation to uphold, so I'm the ammunition to go to in these extreme situations." He leaned forward and looked at you over the glare of his glasses, giving you a small smile. "Well, it says here," he scammed his eyes over the paperwork you filled out, "that you have genophobia, the fear of sexual intercourse. It's very common in trauma patients, and also confused with erotophobia, which is the fear of any aspect of sex. There's also a common shared phobia of haphephobia, a fear of being touched. So tell me about it so we can make sure it's the right one we're treating."

You sat there uneasily and picked at the skin around your nails while you stared at the smooth surface of his desk. "Well, as a kid I wasn't really one to like hugs or kisses from family members and they found it odd, but they'd always say 'it was rude not to hug your aunt', so I was forced to hug my relatives up until I started fighting back physically. They stopped making me after an incident…

"And that's when…something else happened with a family member… I just don't wanna talk about that right now… but otherwise I was able to hold hands with someone when I was in high school, they asked me out and I wasn't sure which the right answer was, so I said yes. They wanted to take things so quickly, but I asked them to at least ask me when they wanted any affection. That didn't work out so well…" 

Dr. Andover nodded along and kept solid eye contact with you as you spoke, and he kept an open mind when you kept your answers semi brief, he understood the gist of it. "Unfortunately that sounds all too common for your situation, Y/N, but we do have several options for people with your case. How far have you gone with someone you've been in a relationship with? As in, what did you do with them to the point you were okay with?"

You sighed and recalled your past. "I've held hands, been kissed on the cheek, and a few times on the lips, but after a while, I got very uneasy when my ex would force me to kiss them out in public. I haven't had actual sex with any of my exes, they either dumped me for not doing anything with them or I broke it off because they expected it whenever they wanted and I told them no." 

You looked defeated and seemed as if you wanted to cry as you curled your legs closer to your chest. The doctor reread through your file and remained silent for a moment, gauging what exactly he could do here.

The way you looked at him though, he felt as if you trusted him wholly to help you, and he couldn't help but look at you as if you were such a fragile creature. Sure, he'd seen many walks of life in his office, but you were a very pure soul who looked for help and had been denied or let down so many times, he wanted to be the one to help you completely. 

He leaned forward and let out a sigh as he thought, exhausting every idea he could in his mind until you spoke up. 

"Doctor Andover-"

"Please," he interrupted you, "call me Peter."

"Okay, Peter, I know that my case is extreme, but if you can't help me, I'd understand. I just want to be able to enjoy my life to its fullest, you know?"

His eyes stared down at you and he couldn't help but smile. "I know, which is why I'm willing to personally see your case over. This is an escalated situation and you're so young, you deserve to feel everything that's included in that. But you have to trust me, and if you can't continue with our sessions, I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me, okay?"

You nodded and felt that you could absolutely trust him, especially when so many people had recommended him to help with your fears, it would be stupid not to trust him. 

For the next week, he oversaw your treatments and you had gotten into the large tank he had, wondering just how something like this would help you, but you listened and did everything he asked. But as time went on, nothing really helped you and you'd get incredibly anxious whenever you came out of treatment, but you found yourself to be calm around Doctor Andover. He would sit with you for long periods of time in your room, talking about his work or just talking about you and the things you enjoyed in life. 

He definitely wasn't expecting the next sentence to come out of your mouth, though.

He looked shocked as if he couldn't comprehend whatever he was hearing. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look, I know it's sorta drastic and a little weird, but it makes sense, right?" You sat up straight and looked at him expectantly. "How else am I supposed to move forward if nothing else is working?"

"To be clear, you're asking me to, uh, assist you personally in overcoming this fear?"

You nodded matter-of-factly and placed your shaky hand over his. "I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone in a very long time, so maybe you are the answer."

"I'm the treatment for you," he repeated. Then he laughed nervously and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sat there wordlessly. "I will be quite honest with you, Y/N, I did feel a connection to you when I first met you in my office, but after hearing exactly why you were here, I couldn't exploit that. I've never done this before with a client."

"Hmm, I don't believe that, you're incredibly handsome…" You shifted closer to him on your bed and bit your lip gently, chewing on it as you sat beside him closer than you ever thought possible. "I appreciate that Doctor, I really do. But I've been thinking a lot about this, and if you think this is too extreme, I'd understand."

He turned to look at you and actually took in your features for the first time this close. He wasn't sure how to react around someone of your caliber, but he'd be sure to take things slow and use open communication. 

"Alright, well, I'll tell you before I'm about to do anything, okay? I'll be sure to walk you through it, but for now, you can close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice. Breathe in and out slowly several times, then look at me when you're ready."

You nodded and shifted to look directly at him, the white wisps of hair that hung around his face covered some of his features, but it all soon went black as soon as you closed your eyes. You trusted him and he wouldn't steer you wrong. Then you took several long, deep breaths and opened your eyes again.

Peter had to fight the urge and the uncomfortable strain in his dress pants as he thought about you in so many ways, but he promised you he'd take care of you and that's what he'd do. He smiled and spoke gently. 

"I'm going to grab your hand and hold it, okay? Just simply hold it. If you want me to remove my hand, please tell me." 

You watched as he reached for your hand and placed it in his, his fingers entwined with yours and held them softly. You breathed in and out slowly, convincing yourself that this wasn't the end of the world, he was just holding your hand. Another platonic action that many people did. 

You smiled and nodded at him, urging Peter to continue. He began to stroke your hand with his thumb, taking it slow and easy for you, and his intense eyes were on you, waiting for any indication of discomfort. When you gave none, he upped the stakes and allowed his hand to skate up your arm, letting it rest on your elbow as he urged you to scoot forward. 

"Please tell me if-"

"I will," you breathed, "promise. Just please, keep going."

Doctor Andover pulled you forward until you sat in his lap, and that was one of the biggest steps you've taken so far, and you felt no discomfort while you were here with him. You slipped your legs on either side of him and sat comfortably straddling him, your heartbeat quickened as you felt him beneath you, shifting from how uncomfortable his election was becoming. You could see his breathing hitch whenever you moved against him, you could tell he wanted you badly. 

The sounds that came from him only made you want to continue, and it was incredibly hard to push yourself to do this, but the way Peter allowed you to take control over him like this had really helped you, taking your actions at your own pace was something you never really had the option for. While you watched his face relax as your hand drifted down his chest, your attention was stolen once he made a very guttural growl as your hand barely touched just an inch away from his inner thigh. You could tell the pain he was in when you saw just how tight his pants were, so you placed your hand on his belt buckle.

"Did you want me to take these off? You seem to be in some discomfort," you smiled and tugged at the belt. 

"Yes, oh my god, please," he begged, his breathing picked up once your hands fumbled with the black leather, but he watched intently.

He sprang out from his pants, his underwear already ruined with pre cum seeping through. You weren't sure how to really handle yourself for this, so you looked up to him and bit your lip. "I'm not really sure how to continue, show me?"

God, he was having a hell of a time trying not to pin you down and take you all for himself, your innocence only made him hungrier for it. He hadn't been touched in a long time by someone else and it showed. 

"We-well, you can go about it several ways," he began, "it all depends on you though. Foreplay is uh, important, it helps prep both people for one another. So if you were to either lick your hand or spit in it and then slowly start stroking, it-"

You cut him off by placing your hand on it and stroked him gently just once, and Peter threw his head back, letting out a low moan. You then licked your hand like he explained and experimented again, stroking him once, twice, and he was already bucking his hips upward.

"I'm sorry!" He barked. "It just feels so amazing, you're doing so-so well. Did you want to stop?" He brought his head back to look at you and you shook your head. 

"I think I want to try," you said firmly. "Please let me know if I'm doing it right." You pushed yourself off of him and began to strip, naturally, his eyes were on you and he fought hard against helping you. 

When you were standing bare before him, you felt yourself slowly leaking down the sinside of your thighs, Peter took notice of it immediately and licked his lips as you climbed back on top of him. 

"Can I sit on you?" You asked softly. 

He held out his hands and helped you ease yourself onto his cock, the groan that tore from his throat was almost animalistic as you sunk down slowly onto him, he stretched you out and you took your time to fully push him all the way in until he was buried inside of you. You leaned forward and sighed as your head rested on his shoulder, just easing yourself into this as your hands began to shake a little. 

"Am I doing good?"

"Fuck, Y/N, you're doing so good, ahh, yeah just take it one step at a time. When you're ready, you can rock your hips and go at your own pace."

You did as he told you and slowly, you began to gently rock back and forth against him, and you felt that the way he stretched you out felt better than you expected. Peter's hands sat on either side of your waist and he couldn't help but tighten his grip whenever you pushed yourself fully back onto him. 

You let out a few muffled sounds of your own and moaned his name, which he found incredibly hot. 

"Yeah, I love when you call out my name like that," he purred as he threw his head back. 

"Mhm, I think I like calling it out," you confessed. "Ahh, Peter, please, show me how it's done, fuck-"

At that, he warned that he was going to have you move to where your back was against his chest, then he eased himself back inside of you, his hands on both of your thighs. While he lay back against the mattress, he thrust his hips upward as he held you still, and the feeling of him constantly hitting your spot just right over and over again drove you wild.

"Oh my god, Peter- FUCK!" 

He slowed as he was about to ask you if he should continue, but you bounced your hips against him, causing him to stop mid-sentence.

"Don't stop, please, keep going!"

He continued to thrust upward into you, his hands gripping your chest, your arms, anywhere that he could hold onto you so you wouldn’t slip. He was so close to his end but knew better than to ruin you the first time, so he begged you to slow down so he could reposition you again. When you knew that he was close, you lay back against your mattress and stared up at him, his face was slick with sweat while his hair clung to him, and his breathing was heavy as he took a moment to check on you.

“You’re still okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded and gave him a gentle smile. “Yeah, I feel… I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel that I can trust you.” You reached your hand up and played a bit with his hair. “It’s almost like I didn’t even think that my phobia was real…” Your words trailed off while Peter leaned in close to you, his face shifted from thoughtful to kind.

He stroked the side of your face and smiled before asking once again if you wanted to continue, and once you gave him the go-ahead, he slowly eased himself back inside of you, the feeling of you clenching around him made him shutter. You reached your arms around him and held him to you as he began to build his pace up again, and you could feel yourself getting that odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Peter warned you again that he was getting close, his voice almost taken from him as he groaned your name over and over again. 

“Y/N, I’m going to– ahh fuck, I’m about to cum,” he growled. 

“Then cum, Peter, please.”

He quickly pulled out from you and wrapped his hand around his cock, the pressure that built up during your session finally released all over your bare chest and stomach, his heavy panting and pathetic groans filling the room. You hadn’t been completely satisfied yet, but you didn’t expect to be, this was only the first time you were able to push this experiment onto him. 

Doctor Andover collapsed beside you on the bed and couldn’t help but lift his head to look at you. “I’m sorry it didn’t go as long as it could have, like I said, it’s–”

You laughed and shook your head. “Are you kidding? This was the first time I’d done anything like this in so long, I don’t expect either of us to know what the hell we were doing. But I want to thank you for indulging my silly treatment idea, it’s definitely shown me it’s possible that I can trust someone.”

He smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Guess you could say I’ll have to keep providing you this treatment, hmm, Y/N?”

With a large smile, you turned away and stared up at the ceiling, your heart still pounding wildly as you lay there. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

This was going to prove to be a very interesting session.

[chocolatemicenwhiskey]

Can I get more info on Fear Bros?

Ah yes, one of my favorite AUs. Tagging @tranimation because she's my co-conspirator on it and might have something to add.

Andover was a psychology professor at Gotham University before the events of Fear Clinic.

Harely most likely banged him for a grade change.

A pre-Scarecrow Jonathan Crane was one of Andover's best students and became something of a protegè.

Andover and Crane's friendship is very rocky, both having incriminating information about the other. This resulted on them collaborating on both Andover's prototype Fear Chamber and Crane's fear toxin.

Villatoro was originally from Blackgate before being shipped to Alcatraz for Andover's expiraments. Crane has a sneaking suspicion he's actually Bane.

The events of the Fear Clinic movie occurs in this AU, which could be in the Arkham universe. Andover and Crane try to ruin each other.

[booler]

i got so stressed i got dizzy

[tinalbion]

Here's something for the anon who was speaking to me about Dr. Andover 😏❤❤❤

Robert Englund as Dr. Andover in  Fear Clinic (2015)