#first cadaver dissection

[muesli-command]

“Every little girl dreams of her wedding day” WRONG!! First cadaver dissection

[goodbirb]

s2e2 of red valley is so funny to me bc in the beginning gordon and bryony are so oddly polite and kind to each other like she didn't threaten him with his life the last time we saw them together

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[cookingwithroxy]

Thinking about Neil DeGrasse Tyson's position about how 'consensus' is the most important thing in science just reminds me of Ignaz Semmelweis.

You know, the man who first posited that doctors should wash their hands before surgeries, especially as they'd just come from dissecting cadavers?

Because the consensus then was that he was insane, and insulting them for daring to think doctors were 'dirty'. And he was harassed by his fellows until he had a nervous breakdown, was shipped off to an asylum, beaten by the guards and then died of the injuries inflicted from said beating.

Of course I also don't have any idea why anyone's asking medical questions of an astrophysicist to begin with, any more than why someone would be looking to Bll Nye for scientific knowledge.

[hedge-rambles]

Ok so a lot of real world surgery training starts with cadavers, because you kinda need to start training surgeons on a "patient" who is already past the point of being totally fucked up by beginner mistakes. So, consider: All fantasy healers are trained necromancers, at least to some degree. Because the first steps in learning to be a healer involves practicing on dead bodies. No one is allowed to just jump straight into knitting together flesh and bone on a living person because sweet merciful gods, no! Do you know how wrong that can go?! You're starting on a lamb shank, before working up to a donated body, long before anyone will let your magic within a mile of an injured human being.

And depending on the kind of necromancy we're talking about, how different is it calling back a passed spirit to its former body vs. being a healer who can grab that soul and tether it in place, to stop it wandering off before they're done fixing up the meat-suit?

Sure there's a clear difference between setting a bone and reanimating a long-dead corpse, and the general public knows this...but what healers know is that it's more complicated than that. They know there's a grey area, between "healing" and "necromancy". There's a place where it's...hard to really say whether it's one or t'other. To those in the know, the big secret is that there isn't really a difference, it's all part of a continuum. Is restarting a stopped heart healing or necromancy? When you're holding onto a bucking soul, trying its best to dive from this world to the next while you repair its broken body, is that really just healing? Or is that just a very pre-emptive form of necromancy? What if you snatched that soul back just seconds after it left the body? What if it was minutes? Or an hour? Where do you draw the line?

Fantasy healing, blood magic and necromancy.

It’s been bugging me for a white that these three tropes, often placed far apart in magical ideologies, really belong together. There’s only a fine line between life and death. Why is blood always portrayed as an evil thing when it’s really a very useful thing?

It’s bugged me for a long time that healing spells in D&D 3.5 aren’t necromancy spells. Bodies are just bone and flesh and skin, it’s the same set of skills to knit broken pieces back together whether those piece are still living or already dead, it’s just the living still have some homeostasis going on.

If you are learning to heal, people or animals, anatomy training can leave you with this idea (which is not entirely false) that you can take a body apart like its made of Lego. It’s just parts and systems. Just bits.

Sometimes you look at those parts in isolation, sometimes as a whole. Working with bodies and parts, whether alive or dead, is very, very similar and in my mind it only takes a small jump from working with the living to working with the dead.

And poor blood gets such a bad reputation. Blood is great, blood is useful. Blood is key to all healing processes in the body. It carries information, it’s key to life.

Sure, too much blood outside the body can be a problem, but too much of anything can be a problem. Nobody complains about a fireball being inherently evil but blood just seems to carry a connotation with it.

I feel like these aspects are all part of the same spectrum, and only tiny steps away from each other.

Then again maybe I’m the character that turns into the well intentioned villain in the fantasy novel.

[connieisthesun]

Chemistry and Cadavers - Conrad fisher x reader

Chapter Summary - You, a bright-eyed sophomore college student majoring in biology stumble upon Conrad fisher, an attractive yet forgetful student who happens to forget his pen on his first day of class...

Warnings - Fluff, teasing, super cute tbh haha

*Authors note* - So I've decided to start a new series due to the nonexistent amount of new tsitp fic's here lmao, if you enjoy a like a repost would be appreciated. Let me know if you have any feedback to improve my writing. Enjoy loves!

Chapter 1: Chemistry and Cadavers

The crisp autumn air on the college campus was invigorating, bringing with it the promise of a new academic year filled with possibilities. The campus was alive with the sounds of students hurrying to their classes, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the distant hum of chatter from the quad. Among the new faces and returning students was Y/N, a bright and ambitious sophomore majoring in biology.

Y/N had always been passionate about the sciences, and this year, she was especially excited about her anatomy and physiology class. Little did she know that her enthusiasm for the subject would lead to a series of events that would change her college experience in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

As she walked into the lecture hall, she noticed the familiar faces of her classmates and scanned the room for an available seat. She spotted a spot in the middle of the room and made her way over, settling into her chair just as the professor walked in.

“Good morning, everyone,” the professor greeted, his voice carrying a tone of authority and excitement. “Today, we’re diving into the intricacies of human anatomy, and I have a feeling this semester is going to be an exciting journey.”

Y/N smiled to herself, her excitement bubbling over as the professor began the lecture. She took out her notebook, ready to absorb every detail of the day’s lesson. As the lecture progressed, she couldn’t help but notice the student sitting a few rows ahead of her, who seemed to be struggling with his notes and the lecture material. He had tousled brown hair, a laid-back demeanor, and an occasional frustrated glance at his notes.

When the lecture ended, Y/N gathered her things and headed out of the lecture hall, intending to grab a coffee before her next class. As she walked through the bustling hallway, she was approached by a friendly voice.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

She turned to see her friend Lila catching up with her. “Hey, Lila! What’s up?”

“I heard you were in the anatomy lecture this morning. How was it?” Lila asked, a teasing smile on her face.

“It was great,” Y/N replied. “I’m really looking forward to this semester. Anatomy is such a fascinating subject.”

Lila’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know, I think you might have a classmate who’s also taking that course. He’s known for being a bit of a mess, especially when it comes to anatomy. His name is Conrad Fisher.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Conrad Fisher? I think I saw him in class today. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping up.”

Lila laughed. “That’s the one. He’s actually a really nice guy, but he’s notorious for needing a little extra help with his studies. If you see him around, you might want to keep an eye out. He’s always borrowing pens or asking for assistance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Later that week, Y/N found herself in the anatomy lab for the first time. The lab was a place of intense focus and concentration, with rows of cadaver tables and an array of dissection tools neatly arranged. The room was filled with the quiet murmur of students working together, and the scent of formaldehyde lingered in the air.

Y/N set up her station and began to review the lab manual when she heard a voice nearby.

“Hey, do you have a spare pen?” the voice asked.

Y/N looked up to see Conrad Fisher standing beside her table, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He held up a pen cap, indicating that he had lost the actual pen.

“Sure, here you go,” Y/N said, handing him a pen with a smile.

“Thanks,” Conrad said, taking the pen and looking visibly relieved. “I seem to have misplaced mine again. I swear, it’s like they disappear into thin air.”

Y/N laughed softly. “It happens. You’ll get used to the lab environment eventually.”

Conrad smiled gratefully. “I hope so. I’m Conrad, by the way. I think we’re going to be lab partners for this course.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

As they worked side by side, Y/N found that Conrad’s easygoing nature and good humor made the long hours in the lab more enjoyable. They talked about their classes, shared stories, and found themselves falling into a comfortable rhythm of collaboration. Despite the occasional moments of distraction and light-hearted teasing, they made a great team.

Over the next few weeks, their interactions continued to be marked by playful banter and occasional flirtation. Conrad would often ask Y/N for help with his dissections, and she would gladly oblige, offering guidance and tips with a teasing edge.

One day, as they were working on a particularly challenging dissection, Conrad looked up from his work with a grin. “So, Y/N, do you have any other hidden talents besides being a dissecting wizard?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Well, I can bake a mean batch of cookies, if that counts.”

Conrad’s eyes lit up with interest. “Cookies? Now you’re speaking my language. Maybe I’ll have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to lose any more pens,” Y/N replied playfully.

Conrad laughed, shaking his head. “Deal. I’ll do my best to keep track of my writing instruments from now on.”

Their banter became a regular feature of their interactions, and the chemistry between them was evident to everyone around them. Despite their undeniable connection, they both maintained a façade of casual friendship, much to the amusement of their friends.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling lab session, Conrad and Y/N found themselves sitting on a bench outside the science building, taking a well-deserved break.

“I think that was the most challenging dissection we’ve had yet,” Conrad said, stretching his arms. “I’m glad we made it through.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have to say, your technique is improving. You’re almost as good as me now.”

Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Almost? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As they chatted, a group of their friends approached, and one of them, Sarah, gave them a knowing smile. “You two seem to be getting along quite well.”

Y/N and Conrad exchanged a glance, both of them trying to suppress their smiles. “We’re just lab partners,” Y/N said casually.

“Sure, just lab partners,” Sarah said with a teasing grin. “But everyone can see the chemistry between you two.”

Conrad blushed slightly, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re just friends, honestly.”

Sarah and the others laughed and continued on their way, leaving Y/N and Conrad to their conversation.

“You know,” Conrad said, his tone playful, “it’s funny how everyone is always trying to push us together.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to hide her own smile. “It’s probably just because we spend so much time together. It’s hard not to notice the dynamic.”

Conrad’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, if they’re right, maybe we should just embrace the idea.”

Y/N gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, really? And what would that look like?”

Conrad leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “It would probably involve a lot more teasing, a few more flirtatious comments, and maybe even some impromptu study dates.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds like a lot of work. I think we’re doing just fine as friends.”

“Agreed,” Conrad said, his smile warm and genuine. “But it’s fun to think about.”

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Conrad’s playful flirtation continued, with their friends often teasing them about their obvious chemistry. Despite their mutual attraction and the flirtatious banter, they remained steadfast in their commitment to being just friends.

Their interactions were filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing, creating a dynamic that was both enjoyable and endearing. Whether it was borrowing pens, helping with dissections, or sharing jokes, their connection grew stronger with each passing day.

As the semester progressed, Y/N and Conrad found themselves increasingly drawn to each other, their friendship evolving into something deeper and more meaningful. Despite their best efforts to deny their feelings, the chemistry between them was undeniable, and their playful banter only served to highlight the growing connection they shared.

Tag list - @conradfisherswifesstuff @cheezbot @grxnde-dwt @itsshayfr @lanivoid @calpurnia2002

Comment or heart to be added.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Any headcannons about Will Solace? he's an underrated bby (I think?) and I personally hc that he used to be a very moody kid but then decided to turn off all of his negaive emotions (most of the time)

oh i have SO many Will Solace headcanons built up from writing him on Deadangelos so much. Below the cut cause this is very long (and tumblr started glitching about the list format so manual it is):

- His roles at CHB are basically "Every possible medical personnel Ever™." He's camp medic, physician, surgeon, pediatrician, pharmacist, psychiatrist, therapist, dentist, optometrist, veterinarian, etc etc etc. Technically Chiron is also All Of That, but ever since Will joined camp most of the responsibility falls to him (at least in part because campers generally feel a bit more comfortable dealing with somebody their own age versus an immortal centaur), and Chiron just mentors him on it (unless they're running low on hands, in which case Chiron does pitch in, and sometimes the other Apollo kids help staff the infirmary if Will needs. In the past though it was usually just Chiron and whichever camper he pulled in that week to do first aid training with. Mr. D only really handles therapy stuff if Will isn't able to for one reason or another. Will gets very individualized training and has has own schedule separate from the rest of his cabin to account for all of that. Chiron basically personally took Will in under his wing as his apprentice and a not insignificant portion of Will's personal training is gross anatomy lessons with Chiron in the camp morgue. Will does not question where Chiron procures the cadavers for that. He probably should. They aren't campers. They are sometimes demigods, but not always. Most of the rest of camp doesn't even know there's a morgue, let alone that Will does gross anatomy dissection. It's not technically a camp "secret," Will isn't secret about it at all, but most campers treat it like it is and like to use it to try and spook new campers. The ones who find out about the gross anatomy portion and that there is exactly zero information about how Chiron is procuring cadavers are Mildly Concerned.

- Photokinesis and plague powers Will are both extremely fun. I love making him a son of Apollo Smintheus specifically and giving him pet rats and/or the ability to talk to rats and mice. He thinks they're soooo cute and is definitely the type to brag about how intelligent rats are. I also like to think he maybe had a pet snake at one point, like a big ol' boa. Will with a sunglow boa or something? yes? (I also just in general love the idea of Will's house back in Texas being a cute little ranch cause Naomi is rich and also a cowgirl and Will having a ton of different animals over the years. He probably originally wanted to be a veterinarian before he settled more on medic.)

- I just generally love playing with Will (not-so) subtly being the exact opposite of what people would expect from an Apollo kid. Initially he looks like the gold standard for an Apollo kid - sunny, friendly, chill, medic/healer, interest in science/arts/fandom, etc etc. Then you speak to him for more than 20 minutes and find out he loves snakes and rats and guts and gore and is fascinated by disease and mold. He takes gross anatomy classes taught by Chiron. One of his favorite hobbies is just dissecting stuff. He's into vulture culture. His idea of a perfect date is holding hands over a cadaver he is actively cutting into and passing the other person cool stuff he's fishing out. Also he's very vocal about thinking monsters are hot and the combo of all of that is exactly why he's into Nico. Everybody else thinks Nico's inherently cursed or something? Will doesn't mind being cursed - in fact he wants to be cursed, for science. He's swooning over the idea of Nico sacrificing him for some dark ritual in the middle of the night. He daydreams about Nico being a vampire that's gonna romantically kill him. The rest of camp is waiting for the day Will does something stupid and gets himself killed like, flirting with a monster (or the Hades kid) or something. Nico just generally doesn't know how to feel about the whole situation but is? (hesitantly) flattered?? that somebody is enthusiastic about him while recognizing and appreciating his Underworld aspects. Will is out-weirding him, somehow, and Nico never knew this was a thing that could happen.

- Related to that - I have a whole headcanon about "Bad Omen" demigods, which are basically the other main CHB cabin's versions of Hephaestus kids with fire powers being bad luck. For Apollo kids their "bad luck omen" super rare power is a plague-powers kid, and Will showed up during the Titan War, just a couple months before the Battle for Manhattan when nearly all his cabin died. He is very acutely aware of this superstition and fully believes he is a bad luck charm for the cabin and feels SUUUUPER guilty about it and so hides his plague powers. It's not that he feels bad about his plague powers specifically - he thinks plague stuff is really fascinating and his powers are cool and can be used for healing too! - he's just really concerned about how others will view him. (Very strong parallel dynamics between how Will views his plague powers vs the stigma around them & how Nico views his Underworld powers vs the stigma around them. They are handshake emoji).

- TTC implies that Apollo kids are more often than not summer-only campers, and I think it's fun to have Will's backstory being: He may or may not have "accidentally" caused a plague/pest outbreak at his old school early into the year and between that school having to shut down for a couple of months because of that and his mom maybe going on tour, they decided it was time for him to move to CHB and go there year-round. Except he goes from Texas to New York in the middle of winter and he's a son of Apollo, so he gets there and it's like sleet and slush and all cold and he's the only Apollo kid at camp and he hates it so bad. He eventually gets used to it but it is awkward when all his siblings come back in the spring/summer to find they have a new youngest sibling who's just been chilling all by himself for a couple of months. But then Austin and Kayla join so at least he's not the newest/youngest Apollo kid. (But then nearly all of Cabin 7 immediately dies in TLO and Will's right back to being in a mostly empty cabin and being in charge.)

- He definitely puts on an approachable/friendly, or at the very least calm, face 99% of the time, partially because it's expected of him and it's also maybe a little bit masking (it's a lot masking) cause he knows he can be a bit much. He is 100% the type of guy who feels like he has to solve all his problems himself and can't let anybody else know he has problems, and also that he has to help everybody else with their problems because that's his job, right? So he's constantly stressing himself out to the point of breakdown. He also half lives in the infirmary (which he totally has his own little office in) and he'll just shut himself in and spend like, a couple of days straight in there and probably not sleep. He's a workaholic just as bad as Nico and a total hypocrite about it/about overexerting one's self but he's working on it. Nico's too much of a take-no-shit kind of guy (and also him and Will are way too similar) so usually when Will nags Nico about that kind of thing it turns into Will looking in a mirror or Nico turning it back around on him and Will going "ah shit i need to take my own advice >:T"

- He's best friends with Drew Tanaka and he lets out his bitchy side when he's hanging out with her. they are bitching friends. they love to bitch. It's a great venting environment for him cause he knows Drew loves to hear him complain and talk shit so he can just let out all his pent-up frustrations and she'll just enthusiastically eat it all up. The two of them will gossip endlessly. Drew is mildly concerned about Will's romantic tastes though (again: monsters. cryptids. the Addams family. evils from the shadows. the guy from The Shape Of Water. Nico) and keeps trying to talk him out of flirting with things that might kill him. He does not listen to her.

- His only normal crush is Paolo but everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop about how Will could possibly be weird about this one (there's an ongoing camp bet with different theories). He also dated Drew for like, all of a week but they both decided they totally hated it and preferred to stay just besties (bonus points: That was what Drew considered as her passing the whole Aphrodite-kids-breaking-hearts thing. literally neither of them cared).

- I know his full name is William but it's really funny if he lies about that and his full name is actually Wilhelm, named after the scream.

- ...He is a Swiftie. He's been a Swiftie since he was younger back with like, OG-era country music Taylor Swift and he's just stuck with it.

- Trans!Will is fun and I love it lots. Drew helping him with transition stuff is also very near and dear to me.

- His crush on Nico originates from them meeting for the first time during the Battle for Manhattan. Nico's attempt at flirting with Percy misfired and hit Will instead lmao. Nico parts the Titan Army in cool thematic armor and with three gods in tow, says a dramatic one-liner, and then is super badass in battle and Will is head-over-heels for him immediately. He then proceeds to spend the next year obsessing over Nico and being tormented by Nico never being at camp and never being able to talk with him. Ergo why when Nico shows up in BoO, Will is immediately like "HOLD MY HANDS. THREE DAYS IN THE INFIRMARY. HANG OUT WITH ME PLEASEEEE-" (and that's why Will was under the assumption that Nico was actively avoiding people rather than being ostracized, cause he had heart-eyes tunnel vision). Him in BoO though really is just seeing his crush and losing all his cool.

- For some reason he is just an absolute magnet for chthonic demigods. Nico, Lou Ellen, Cecil (who i hc is a chthonic Hermes kid), etc etc. He thinks Underworld stuff is super cool though (again, see: Will being super into spooky/gory stuff/etc). Also all the ex-Titan army kids decided they were his personal body guards immediately after the war cause he was nice to them.

- He is a HUUUUGE nerd. Specifically a sci-fi and disney nerd. They're his hyperfixations (/special interests if you lean more autistic!Will) <3 His favorite franchises are Star Wars and Avatar (the blue one). He loves conceptual alien biology/ecology and could go on about it endlessly. He will also very enthusiastically infodump about Disney history (both the art/animation side and theme parks side) and other sci-fi series. Ask him about Doctor Who (you will be there for several hours).

- Will being a micro-celebrity cause of his mom is very fun to me. He's been on talk shows and stuff before cause people love how snarky this country star's kid is. He has an extremely popular Instagram and Austin uses him as clickbait in his Youtube videos extremely often (including forcing him to guest-star or do like react content and stuff) (Will is more than happy to indulge him though cause he finds it funny).

- I also love the idea that Will and Piper have actually known each other since they were little, from Tristan and Naomi meeting at some point and realizing they had kids the same age and encouraging them to be pen-pals. Once social media becomes more of a like, Proper Thing™ they become mutuals on Instagram but just use it to periodically send each other silly memes (Piper's instagram is private and basically all she uses it for is dm'ing people). It takes them a solid week of being at CHB together to realize "WAIT, YOU'RE THAT [PIPER/WILL]?!" One of their hobbies is going into the city and seeing if people will recognize them/if paparazzi will see them and making games out of it (who can ruin the most photos, what types of fake gossip can we get them trying to circulate, etc etc).

- I am a firm believer that Will is an extremely loud out-and-proud type of guy and has been for awhile (again see: him being a micro-celebrity) and he spearheads or runs a lot of pride stuff at CHB ever since he joined. If there is a pride parade/event at CHB he helps organize it. If there's a GSA club at CHB he is the head of it. He keeps pamphlets in the infirmary of queer educational material and guides to different identities and stuff and is very passionate about making people feel welcomed and comfortable. Because of this, when he found out Nico was from the 1930s and severely not up-to-date on terminology and stuff, he considered getting Nico up-to-date his greatest challenge yet. It was a personal quest for him. There was also definitely at least a week before that where Will thought Nico might be homophobic or something and was going "I CAN FIX HIM" before Nico managed to explain that no, he's... very supportive (muffled coughing coming from closet), he's just also extremely behind and doesn't know what any of those words mean, thanks. Will set up the most extensive queer crash course possible for him and poor Nico was just going "slow down please,,,," the entire time. Will gets him up mostly up to speed eventually. I just love Will being that type of guy who will start explaining misc queer history with citations at the drop of a hat. It is probably another hyperfixation of his.

- Will and Annabeth both consider Chiron an adoptive father-figure and joke about being siblings and which of them is the favorite child, cause they both know they're definitely Chiron's favorite campers. They both get him father's day cards/gifts.

[moon-buggg]

Not so different after all

I wanted to explore Moon's relationship with mad scientist! Y/n a bit, so I wrote this drabble! It's the first piece of non-academic writing I've shared since middle school, so be kind lol

length- 585 words

warnings- vague descriptions of bodies and dismemberment (yn is taking organs out of a cadaver to preserve them, its not graphic but viewer discretion is advised)

Sun had asked you, once, how you could stomach the dirty work of your experiments. ‘The body is just meat,’ you had responded, elbow deep in a cadaver, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if it were perfectly normal for humans to rifle through their own for spare parts. As if you had not been shunned from your peers for this exact transgression. 

Moon wasn’t squeamish. The opening of a body so unlike his own did not unsettle him in the way it unsettled Sun. No, it wasn’t the blood, viscera, or decay that made him feel like this, like everything was wound too tight, grating and wrong.

It was you.

And watching you preserve your latest specimen (another failure, not that you would let that stop you), he could hold his tongue no longer.

“Easy. They’re all hypocrites.” The accusation is harsh and sharp on your tongue. “Did you know they had us dissecting pigs in medical school but not once did we ever oversee a human dissection? Sure the anatomy transfers decently enough, but how were we supposed to treat human patients never learning from humans? What makes our bodies worthy of preserving over pigs? That we figured out pants first?”

“How are you ok with this,” he does not gesture to the human brain currently soaking in formaldehyde, “when everyone tells you it is wrong?”

The disgust in your voice is evident. Moon had always appreciated that about you, your complete inability to mask your emotions- or was it just a lack of interest? It did not help him in deciphering you in this moment. 

You continue on, either unaware of your rambling or used to his lack of response. “I mean really, who do they think they are?-” 

Moon tuned you out. He'd heard this rant plenty of times before. Nothing about your sworn vengeance on and superiority over those who wronged you would help explain why you made him so confused. 

Why your flippant treatment of bodies reminded him of the circus’s repair tent.

You were still talking, never once stopping your task of preparing various organs for preservation. Ever quick and methodical, your hands never stopped moving. “-ean, really, the body is just a machine!” you huff, dropping the heart into a jar like it had offended you.

“...a machine,” he parrots. You remain unaware of how his eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

“Exactly! One that I will take apart and master!” Your easy confidence about such grim matters unsettles many, used to unsettle him. He crosses the laboratory with two long steps and leans over you, observing your work more closely. A body lies cold and empty on the metal gurney, its innards laid out in jars across your desk. You’ve moved on to labeling now, penning down notes in a shorthand he’s yet to decipher. The silence is… comfortable, broken only by your pen scratchings and the quiet ticking of Moon’s internal clockwork. 

You look back at him only once, a questioning but otherwise blank stare, before returning to your work. Not displeased, at least.

He continues watching as you finish labeling and move to writing in that same shorthand in a journal. He doesn’t know if you would explain it to him if he asked, so he doesn’t. He just continues to watch. And as the sun sinks in the sky, he slinks away and activates the electric lights for you before returning to his perch.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 9: Freelancer

Ao3 | 5.8k Words | Freelancer’s POV

Freelancer’s last three Thanksgivings. Sunshine comes back to life. Caelum is traumatized. Gavin is no longer a prostitute. Darlin’ is also traumatized.

TW: discussions of child abuse, disordered eating habits, and sexual assault.

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving in medical school and you were standing in the morgue at Dahlia General hospital and watching a tall, handsome doctor cut into a corpse like it was an act of love. Dr. Brachium was a looker to put it mildly. You weren’t small by any means, but he hit six feet with ease. His lithe frame fell in his scrubs and drapings like his body was built specifically for medical gear to smother it. His hair was jet black and long enough he had to pin it back in a braid under his scrub cap. He was working with cadavers, not living patients, so he didn’t have to wear a mask. You preferred that, because it let you get a good look at his full lips as they quirked through soft smiles, crinkling his mono-lidded eyes handsomely as he explained how to remove and weigh the major organs as one performed an autopsy. 

This was the process, your instructors insisted. You started with theoretics, diagrams, textbooks, that sort of thing. Then, you moved on to other mammals. You dissected pigs and cats, noted that the variety that the living body was capable of made your diagrams and textbooks functionally useless for anything besides casual reference. You watched videos of surgery, practiced stitches on fruit and pig skin. Then, you watched autopsies. You watched handsome doctors like Brachium cut open mothers and brothers and daughters and struggled to find the energy to remember the person that used to inhabit the cadaver under your careful scrutiny.

Dr. Brachium spoke quietly, as though afraid to wake up the smattering of corpses laid out on tables in his pristine, freezing morgue. Eight odd students gathered around his table, just the dedicated bunch that had signed up for his late night lab slot instead of going home to their fucking families for the holidays. This was more important than a family dinner, you insisted to yourself, and your mother was far more satisfied with your performance at school than she would be with your lackluster stuffing. So, despite Lasko’s insistence that students in rigorous courses like yours did much better when they took adequate breaks, you were staying in Dahlia for your week off. He was a good advisor, and he understood a lot, but he didn’t understand this. He couldn’t. 

“That’s the last of it.” Dr. Brachium held his cadaver’s heart in his hands, still and blue. “If you look here, we can see that Mr. Swanson did indeed die of heart failure. See the pericardial fat surrounding his arteries? It was unfortunately only a matter of time. He would have been in considerable chest pain for a few weeks proceeding the cardiac arrest that eventually killed him. Should any of you become internal medicine doctors, please emphasize that your patients should always take chest pains seriously.” 

He placed the heart in the shining, metal scale, read the weight aloud for his record and carefully placed each organ inside a plastic biowaste bag, then the bag back inside the now empty body cavity. 

“If you’re on the surgical path, you’d be doing a lot of this. When you’re working with live patients, you’ll take the time to carefully arrange the organs. The body knows where they should go and will make any minor adjustments that need to be made, but the healing process can be hindered if you just… throw things in there.” He crinkled up his nose like it was a cute joke. You couldn’t help the smile that snuck onto your lips. 

The swinging double doors to the morgue opened as two doctors in white coats and light green scrubs pushed in a gurney. The small frame strapped down on it was covered in a white sheet, the kind that was meant to be waterproof but held on to blood anyway. It was dotted with red like a Halloween decoration. 

The interns ignored the eight of you and instead turned to Dr. Brachium, handing him a chart as they stripped down the trauma gloves they had been wearing. This one must have been fresh out of the trauma bay. Finally, something more interesting than a morbid heart disease. You might actually get to practice some trauma medicine before they put this one on ice. 

Brachium thanked the interns by name, something that made you feel strangely fond, and sent them back up to the emergency room. He read the chart carefully, shaking his head, a pinch of pity between his full brows. 

“That’s a shame.” He tutted. “A car accident. And so young…” he looked genuinely grieved as he handed the chart to the student closest to him, another surgical hopeful named Kody you’d had a few classes with. Kody read the chart ravenously, his eyes wide, his face breaking out into a grin. You didn’t know how Dr. Brachium managed to grieve over every body in his morgue, but your stomach flipped when you realized you felt closer to Kody’s blind giddiness at the body’s learning potential. The two of you had a similar hunger. 

Brachium pulled the sheet back, revealing a charming baby face and styled pixie cut, hair meant to stick up in this place and that very intentionally. Instead, carved bangs were matted to the corpse’s forehead with dried, blackened blood. There was a large cut across their forehead, and when you leaned in closer to get a better look, you realized it was actually a skull fracture. You starred for so long you thought you could see their pinkish, shivering brain matter. 

That was impossible, of course. Once the brain stopped functioning it changed color, from healthy pink and gray to blueish-green. You were seeing things. 

Brachium cut away their torn clothes, revealing a sizable laceration in their stomach. He prodded around it with his gloved hands, noting the organ damage and oozing, dark blood that sprouted from the cuts in their liver. 

“This was a catastrophic crash.” Brachium shook his head. One hand landed on the corpse’s head stroking the stray hair out of their closed eyes. “Oh, little one. We don’t even know your name.” 

“How does that work?” You asked. That wasn’t actually going to be part of your job, identifying corpses, but you felt compelled to ask anyway. You felt suddenly self conscious as Brachium’s attention shifted to you. “Like… how do we figure it out? When there’s a body with no ID, I mean.” 

“There are a few ways.” Brachium nodded. He considered you for a moment before his face softened and he continued. “The police are likely still clearing the scene, and since they were driving, there is most probably a driver’s license somewhere in the vehicle. This laceration-” he waved his hand over the cut, “-was caused by the driver’s side door of the car. Look here, at the particles left in the skin.” You leaned in close, your face inches from their still-warm body. 

“Their car was blue.” You found yourself murmuring. Brachium nodded. 

“They would have had to be cut out. The car is a mess, so it might take a while to find everything we need from it. If that fails, then we move on to fingerprints, then dental records. Most people are identifiable. Most people have people who are looking for them. It is very rare for bodies to go unclaimed.” 

“Can we…” Kody gestured towards the corpse, seeming impatient with his arms crossed. Brachium broke his concentration on you and turned towards your classmate. 

“The dead are in no rush, friend.” He said softly. “We have time for any questions anybody has.” 

Your mouth clicked shut and you leaned back, embarrassment burning across your cheeks. Brachium watched, his face closing off, as you pulled away. 

You watched intently, silently, as Dr. Brachium prepared the body for the autopsy. He straightened out the gangly limbs, arranged its broken form into something resembling order, and muttered quietly as he brushed dried blood and debris from its face. Kody stepped up to stand next to you, and everytime Brachium made a soft comment, called the corpse a sweet name, said something as though to comfort it, Kody snickered softly, under his breath, where only the two of you could hear. 

You watched, your eyes on their oozing wounds, waiting for the blood flow to stop. Eventually, the pressure in the chest cavity would let up and the blood would stop. Eventually… 

You moved back around the table, towards the head. You bent at your middle, crinkling the trauma gown that had been draped over your street clothes. Your sneakers squeaked over the tile floor. You bent down and inspected the skull fracture again. By this time, the brain should have gone necrotic. You wanted to see it for yourself. 

The exposed section of their brain shone up at you under the bright, morgue lights, still pink, still twitching. 

“Wait!” You cried, as Brachium raised his scalpel to cut into their chest. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to you. You froze suddenly under the attention, your body going cold. If you were wrong, this was going to be so fucking embarrassing. If you were right, though…

“What is it?” Brachium set his scalpel down and circled the table to stand next to you. You raised a shaking, gloved finger to the skull fracture. 

“Their brain…” you breathed, afraid that if you broke the silence that had fallen over the room, whatever life was left in them would slip away. Brachium gasped, bent closer, and then reared back. He reached blindly for the controls under the table and lowered it quickly. 

“Compressions.” He told you sternly as he stripped his gloves off and reached for two new pairs. “You-” he waved to one of your classmates, Elena, you thought, “-that big button on the wall, press it. And you-” he pointed to Kody as he slipped his new gloves on, “-just outside the door there’s a crash cart. Bring it in now.” 

“What’s happening?” Another classmate called from the back of the group. 

“They’re alive.” Brachium said. The morgue descended into chaos. 

It took fifteen minutes for more doctors to arrive, even as the Code Blue blared around the echoing space. Whoever was in charge of the alarm system turned it off at one point. Brachium had looked up, panic flashing over his eyes and ordered Elena to hit the alarm again. 

You knew how to give chest compressions. You’d been certified since you were in high school, when you’d taken every medical-adjacent course your school had to offer. It felt different on a body than it had on the dummy they gave you to practice on. You felt the corpse’s- the patient’s- ribs crack and give under your relentless movements. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Dr. Brachium intubated, slid a tude down their throat. Their hand, which had laid limp and lifeless on the slab a few minutes before, trailed up to grab at his wrist. He took it in his own and held it as he pumped the blue AMBU bag, breathing for them, in the other. 

“How does this happen?” Kody asked after retrieving the crash cart. He attached the sensors to the portable heart monitor around your hands. “Aren’t they supposed to check things like this before they even get to the ER?”

“Yes.” Brachium muttered, still whispering sweet encouragement to the patient as he worked. “They are.” 

Eventually, interns arrived, walking casually, seeming to think that this was a false alarm. You couldn’t imagine that the morgue called codes all that often, so you could hardly blame them for assuming it was an accident. As soon as they saw you and your shaking, spent arms pounding into your patient, they sprung into action. 

“Why didn’t they receive a head CT?” Brachium snapped, his voice turning sour and harsh for the first time since you’d met him a few hours ago. The two interns that had brought your patient down in the first place went pale and shared an alarmed look. 

“The paramedics said-” one started, but Dr. Brachium cut them off as somebody took over the AMBU bag for him. Somebody else pushed you out of the way and continued your compressions with renewed force. You stumbled back, a hand wrapping around your back to support you. When you looked up, Kody smiled softly and waited for you to catch your footing. 

“I don’t care what the paramedics say!” Brachium snapped. “When you receive a patient in the ER, you run the necessary checks before bringing them to me. You never take other people’s word for it when you’re dealing with someone’s life! The minutes we wasted here could have caused irreparable damage. And it’s your names- your licenses- at the bottom of their chart. Remember that next time, if you get a next time.” 

The patient was whisked away. Brachium addressed the room quickly, dismissing the lab for the evening and offering to reschedule before the end of the semester. You tugged off the trauma gown and gloves you’d been sweating into for the last few hours. Your arms were like jelly. 

“Not you,” Brachium caught your attention before you could slip out of the building. “Stay back with me for a moment, alright my friend?” 

You nodded, sparing Kody one last glance as he tutted and turned away.

Dr. Brachium was even more of a looker when not smothered by medical dressings. His shoulders and biceps filled out his scrubs wonderfully, tapering off to a thin waist and strong legs. He pulled off his scrub cap, letting down his braid and running his fingers through his long, straight hair.

“You were an incredibly capable medical professional tonight. More so than every paramedic and doctor that put their eyes on that patient and chose not to do everything they could to ensure they were actually dead before giving up. Including me.” He ran a hand over his face, once soft and handsome and now lined with exhaustion and shame. “I beg you to stay in the field.” 

“Why didn’t the paramedics check their brain activity?” You asked softly. “Ambulances in California are required to carry EEG’s.” Brachium let out a puff of air that you thought was meant to be a laugh. 

“Ambulances funded by the state are, yes.” He nodded. “But there are private companies that run ambulance services that they contract out to the state at a fraction of the price. They have less oversight on that sort of thing and discretion to hire who they like. I imagine this was caused by a series of oversights and failures throughout the night. I only hope it doesn’t cost them brain function. That long without oxygen…” 

“I should have said something sooner.” You muttered. “I thought it was strange that they were still bleeding. And I thought I was seeing things when I saw their brain matter the first time.” 

“You’re a medical student.” Brachium said softly. “And you were functioning under the belief that the professionals around you had already confirmed within reasonable doubt that they were dead. I’ve been practicing for ten years and I didn’t notice. Please do not blame yourself for this. You saved their life.” 

You nodded even as your guts twisted up with guilt. 

You were glad that Dr. Brachium didn’t make you leave. You thought you’d be eaten alive if you didn’t get to see them again. You wanted to know their name. You wanted to know if they remembered it. 

The cops had found their license half an hour ago. They’d already told their emergency contact where he could go to claim the body. Brachium called, explained shortly that they were in fact not dead, and that he would be waiting to explain all of it when he got to the hospital.

Dr. Brachium waited with you in the lobby for him to arrive. 

You knew it was him the moment he walked in. He’d been crying for a considerable amount of time, and he was trailed by a taller man who must have driven him. You couldn’t imagine anybody who loved this man would let him drive in this state. He looked wildly around the lobby, as though he would find them here. 

“Elliott?” Brachium called. His head swiveled and he seemed to nearly collapse when he put his eyes on Brachium. 

“Please tell me what the fuck is going on.” He cried. The man with him wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steady him. 

“They’re alive, Elliott.” Brachium met them where they stood, took both of Elliott’s hands in his own. “They’re in surgery, and we won’t know more until they’re out, but they are alive.” 

Elliott did collapse then, right into Brachium and the other man’s waiting arms. 

Brachium explained everything in one of the sectioned off family rooms where they told people their loved ones were dead. He had tracked down the ambulance report while you two had waited, the names of the paramedics, the names of the interns that had called it and delivered them to him, the information of every person who had looked at them since the crash for litigation purposes. He implied strongly that Elliott should sue every person on that list for medical malpractice. That list included him, of course. 

“The only reason they’re alive right now is because of this student.” You introduced yourself stiffly, shaking Elliott’s hands awkwardly. “They were attending a lab in my morgue and noticed signs of life. If it weren’t for them, I would have overlooked them as well.” 

“They weren’t breathing?” Elliott said softly. “And their heart, it wasn’t beating?” 

“No.” Brachium shook his head. “They noticed…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put the fact that you’d seen living brain matter through the hole in their head without knocking Elliott out again. 

“I noticed brain activity.” You said simply. Elliott screwed up his brow, but eventually just shook his head. He grabbed awkwardly for your hand, his still shaking, and held it firmly. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you.” 

You left the hospital in the early hours of the morning. It was freezing, and your measly jacket didn’t do much to protect you. You shivered as you made your way across the parking lot and to the bus stop. It was a long ride home. You wondered if Gavin was free. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel bone fucking tired. You could use a distraction, whether that had anything to do with his noble profession or not. 

Something heavy and warm settled over your shoulders. You gasped and turned around, coming face to face with Kody. He’d wrapped you in his jacket, and all you could smell was the fresh, clean scent of his cologne. He smiled, his teeth long and straight, and considered you for a heavy moment before he spoke. 

“That was good work back there.” He said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t all that threatened by you until tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” You replied. He crowded into your personal space, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to fight the cold. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. His eyes had a glint to them you couldn’t place. “Come on, I'll drive you home.” 

___

Kody raped you during the first rainstorm of the following April. 

___

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Gavin said softly, straightening his sweater for the fifth time in just as many minutes. He had deep cleaned your shared apartment over the course of the last two days, gotten rid of the vast majority of his decorations (most of them were some level of explicit), and went out and bought some clothes that actually covered any amount of his skin. He looked so strange, all dressed up and wholesome in his Mr. Rogers get-up. You straightened the crisp collar of the button down under his sweater and smoothed your hand over his chest. 

“He’s gonna love you.” You said softly. “You said he was very friendly over the phone, right? It’s all gonna be fine.” 

It was the week before your last Thanksgiving in medical school, although you didn’t know that just yet, and Gavin had found out that he had a half brother two days ago. He was five-years-old and they shared a deadbeat father who refused to take custody when the poor kid’s mother finally succumbed to the cancer that had been eating her alive since just after Caelum was born. She had raised him alone. She had died at home and nobody knew until a truancy officer came to investigate why the kid had missed a week of school with no call from home. 

Caelum had lived in his mother’s house, still caring for her corpse, for a week. 

“God, he’s gonna be fucked up.” Gavin rubbed his hands over his face. “Like… traumatized. In what world am I qualified to take care of any child, let alone a traumatized one? I’m a fucking prostitute.” 

“You are not a prostitute.” You laughed. “Anymore, at least. You’re a porn star. Much more respectable.” 

“Oh right,” Gavin rolled his eyes, but it made him laugh, so you considered it a win. 

“Deep breaths.” You ordered. He obeyed, eyes closed, leaning into you. There was a knock at the apartment door. 

Caelum was a… weird child. He was sweet, that much was for certain, but he had about him a distant, subdued quality that made it seem like he was somewhere else entirely. The social worker made quick work of your introductions and bolted for the door like the place was on fire. She had a stack of manilla folders just like Caelum’s tucked under one arm. She didn’t even bother to check on all of the safety measures that the two of you had agonized over since finding out Caelum was coming. She must have done a thousand of these already today, and had a thousand more to go.

“So…” Gavin rocked on his feet, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What do you want to do, buddy?” Caelum considered this for a long moment, his eyes glazed and distant. 

“Um… I like sweet stuff.” He said, his voice quiet. Gavin’s eyes snapped up to you, panic in his features. You hadn’t thought to go buy any kid-friendly foods. All you had in the fridge was a smattering of leftovers and some of the weird probiotics Damien kept trying to get you two to take. 

“We should go get some!” You smiled, crouching down in front of him. You’d read in some article or another that it put kids at ease when you went down to their level. Caelum didn’t seem to mind either way. “How does that sound?” Caelum nodded dreamily, wringing his little hands together. 

“Great, let’s get our coats.” Gavin snagged both of yours and then turned to Caelum. “Is yours in your bag?” He gestured to the black trash bag Caelum had brought all of his worldly possessions in. You looked down at it, mostly empty, and felt your stomach flip. Where were all of his toys? His clothes? The shoes he’d outgrow in a month’s time? 

“Don’t got one.” He said softly. He didn’t look particularly upset by it, just shrugged his little shoulders in what looked suspiciously like defeat. Gavin stalled, his eyes wide but not surprised. You remembered, all of a sudden, that Gav had spent his fair share of time in the foster system. He had felt all of the things that Caelum was feeling in this moment. 

The only difference was that somebody wanted Caelum. Somebody was coming along to save him before he had to fend for himself. Nobody had done that, been that for Gavin. He was qualified to take care of this kid. He was probably the most qualified person on Earth. 

Gavin ended up wrapping Caelum in one of his coats, fur lined and cropped and considerably less practical when a grown man was wearing it. You rolled the sleeves up around his tiny arms and stuffed his chubby toddler hands into a spare pair of mittens. He looked a bit silly, bundled up in grown-up clothes. 

Your trip for sweets turned into a trip for sweets, clothes, toys, and books. As it turned out, Caelum had brought essentially nothing with him from the foster home that had held him until Gavin’s paperwork could go through. All he had was a spare pair of clothes, a bar of soap, a tooth brush, and one item from his mother’s house; a threadbare, stuffed rabbit with button eyes. It looked so old that it must have been her’s when she was a child. 

Caelum rode in the shopping cart as you walked Target’s aisles. Every item that his glassy eyes lingered on, Gavin snagged without question. By the end of your trip, you’d had to run back to the front of the store for a second cart and the total was four digits, but Gavin didn’t bat an eye. 

It was the week before your last Thanksgiving in medical school, and you finished out your day sitting cross legged on the floor of Caelum’s new bedroom working on a lab report while Gavin stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to his walls and ceiling. After stuffing him full of pizza and ice cream, Caelum had crashed hard. As you managed to coax him into a pair of his new pajamas before he was completely dead to the world, he sleepily asked if you two could stay with him while he slept. 

You indulged him. You thought you’d likely never stop indulging him. 

“We’ve gotta get a turkey.” Gavin said softly, hushed, trying not to wake him. You looked up from your screen, temples pounding. “And figure out how to make… I don’t know… stuffing? Casserole? What do you eat on Thanksgiving?” You considered it for a long moment. Your brain was so fucking scrambled from the fifteen assignments you still had due that you couldn’t conjure up a single Thanksgiving dish in your memory. 

“We’ll ask Damien.” You said, resolutely. “He knows about that kind of stuff.” 

“I’m gonna give him a good Thanksgiving.” Gavin said. He sounded so sure. “Christmas too. I don’t know what I can do for him but… I can do that.” 

You nodded, the weight of it sitting heavy in your stomach. Whatever you two were yesterday, today you were this kid’s first and last line of defense. His world had fallen apart around him over the last few years and now it was up to you two to build a new one. You didn’t know if you were capable, if you were qualified. You thought that you’d likely never know for sure. All you knew was that Caelum was here and that he needed someone. You could be someone for him. You could do that. 

___

Damien found you on the floor of your kitchen, unconscious at the end of finals week in May. He called an ambulance. You were dehydrated and malnourished. Gavin had been telling you for weeks that you needed rest. You had ignored him. 

If nothing else, this was a wonderful opportunity to watch Dahlia Gen’s state-of-the-art equipment and staff work. Dr. Brachium paid you a visit when you stayed overnight for observation.

“This isn’t sustainable for you.” He said, glancing over your chart. It had been a year since you’d last seen him. A baker’s dozen medical journals had included articles about the cadaver that came back to life in his morgue that night. He still remembered your name and theirs. 

“I don’t know how else to do it.” You said softly. You were so tired. You struggled to keep your eyes on him. 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t.” 

That sent a bolt of cold dread down your spine. 

“You’re the one who begged me to stay in the field.” You sneered. You were being hateful. You had nothing else in you to be. 

“You still can.” He cocked his head. “I think you’d make an excellent nurse or paramedic. Honestly, you’d make a great surgeon too. But if you can’t take care of yourself during med school, you won’t survive your residency.” 

“I can handle it.” You said. 

“But how much of you will be left once you’re done?” 

You didn’t have an answer for that question. 

In the early hours of the morning with Damien in the waiting room and Dr. Brachium at your bedside, you mourned your non-existent surgical career. 

“I would have been good though, huh?” You asked through quiet tears. 

“Yes.” Brachium nodded. “You would have been extraordinary.” 

___

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving at the 10-19, and you were on the way out of the door when you heard quiet, panicked voices coming from the ambulance bay.

Gavin and Caelum were at home waiting. You’d already stayed later than you intended to chatting with Asher. It would be easy to exit out of the front door instead of the back, walk around the building, and make a clean getaway to the bus stop down the street. 

Somebody gasped, another voice cursed, just on the edge of shouting. Your body froze right as you were about to retreat. 

That was your problem, you thought. You just couldn’t say ‘no’ when somebody was in need. You found signs of life. You took in kids whose fathers didn’t want them. You investigated sounds of injury and panic when you heard them at the end of a long fucking shift. You thought about Brachium’s question in that lonely room in Dahlia Gen. You’d never get ahold of all of the pieces of yourself. You were too eager to give them away. 

David and Sam were crowded around a gurney in Engine Two like they had been on the night that you’d first met Tanker. As you rounded the corner, you were struck with deja vu. They were laid out again, bruised and battered, and their eyes were distant and hazy. You were reminded of Caelum’s little five-year-old face, slack with shock and trauma. The little medical student that lived in your head started diagnosing as you took it all in. 

Bruising to both cheeks. Abrasions to the knuckles on the right hand. Unfocused eyes- head trauma or shock? Wasn’t that the one-million dollar question? 

It was a fight. Another one. You couldn’t think of another explanation. 

Tanker seemed to get into a lot of those, at least more than you’d consider a normal amount. 

“Hey,” you said softly. Sam and David both jumped, turning to face you with twin expressions of horror. 

The house was so defensive of Tank. If there was any chance they might be made vulnerable, the whole of the old guard of the 10-19 gathered up around them like a suit of armor. Somehow, Sam had become part of that armor, even though he was a newcomer too. It was moments like these that made you feel the most like an outsider. 

“Hey,” Sam replied, his face locking down. He was panicking. You could see it carved across his features. His tremor was worse than usual, and the pen light he had clutched in his hand was clinking against the metal frame of the gurney. David’s face was so red you thought his head would explode. 

“So um… want me to take a look? You two seem a little shaken up.” You said. You dropped your bag outside the ambulance and hiked up inside, pushing past Sam to get a look at Tank. “Hey, buddy.” You said to them. 

“Hey.” They replied. They seemed to be a million miles away. 

“It’s alright, Probie, I got it.” Sam tried to grab your arm, but his shake was bad enough that he couldn’t get a good enough hold. 

“You don’t.” You turned, taking the penlight from his hand. “Look, I get it. You guys can like… stand and watch or whatever. But you’re freaked out. Both of you. You can’t take care of them properly right now, so I will.” 

David cursed. Sam sat heavily on the bench. 

“Is that okay with you, Tank?” You asked, moving your hair out of the way and reaching for some gloves over their head. 

“Yeah.” They replied simply. “Doesn’t um… it doesn’t matter.” 

You bit your lip on the objections that you had building up inside of you. Of course it mattered. Of course you would listen. Of course if they said no, you would respect it. It had taken you long enough to learn that lesson yourself. That most people, people who weren’t fucking assholes, would listen when you said no. 

“Okay.” You nodded. Wounded animal mode it was. You would telegraph your movements, narrate, ask permission as much and as often as you needed to, as you could. “I want to check for a head wound first. We’ll go from there.” 

Over the course of the next twenty minutes or so, you carefully broke down what happened through the bruises on Tank’s body alone. They didn’t have to say anything at all, explain a moment of it. It was there, carved into their skin, laid out simply for you. They hit him, his high cheekbones splitting the skin over their knuckles. He hit them, right over where they’d broken their ribs. It had gone back and forth like that, brutal hit after brutal hit. There was blood dried over their right hand, but you couldn’t tell from where. It must not have been their own. 

“Not bad.” You said softly. “Lots of bruises, but no breaks that I can feel. I don’t think you have a concussion but I want to check again when you’re not in shock and you can describe your symptoms better.” 

They stared up at you. Their dark eyes reminded you of a shark, cold and deadly. 

“Thank you.” David said as you disposed of your gloves and stepped out of the bus, leaving them alone with Sam for a moment. 

“You need to be gentle with them.” You said, surprising yourself. It wasn’t often you gave orders to men like David Shaw, and your heart beat with the anxiety of it. You persisted anyway. He walked you to the back door, quiet, listening. “They’ve gone through something horrible. I don’t know what but…” you huffed, adjusted your jacket and your bag on your shoulder, “It took me weeks to say anything to anyone when my something horrible happened. So don’t push them, and when they tell you, listen.” 

David was quiet for a long moment, his face somewhere between concerned and pissed the fuck off. You liked the cut of it on his handsome features. 

“Okay.” He said, and that was it. 

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving with the 10-19, and you were sitting on the frozen bench at a bus stop, tapping furiously through the group chat and trying to organize a time for Friendsgiving. You’d be home and warm and safe in twenty minutes’ time. You had the strangest feeling that somebody was watching you.  

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Arcane

Verse: Zaun Family

Oh this brainrot is such a fun one. Sorry this isn’t any of the prompts people have previously sent me but apparently I wanted to write Singed finding Silco after the attack and the immediate follow on from that.

Will probably edit/re-tweak this once I watch Season 2 and re-grab Singed’s voice.

Tags: omegaverse, past-mpreg, mild-body horror and medical stuff

-------------------

There’s a splash of something big falling down into the corner of the caves Singed has taken as his own where the Pilt sometimes drains through when the weather conditions are right. A body most likely by the sound. Either dumped or drowned, it doesn’t change much for whoever it was.

The timing is in his favor though – he could use a new cadaver.

The body, as it turns out, isn’t a stranger to him like they almost always are.

While it has been a few years since the omega stood in the caves and his eye not a gaping wound like it now is, he still is definitively the same one. He was rather memorable at the time, heavily pregnant and yet still threatening Singed should he approach his son again. A son who had returned barely a month later with a cautious smile and they are distracted with my brother given as explanation despite Singed not even asking only to end up not having the stomach for Singed’s work anyway.

It is a shame that the omega ended up as just another body in the Pilt. But that is the way of Zaun and the omega clearly hadn’t cared much about making enemies with how brazenly he threatened a stranger living in the caves.

There is nothing to be done now and no use just letting the body rot when some gain can be made for it.

The body is still warm to the touch as Singed moves it to the table in the center of his lab. The gash to his eye unlikely enough to kill him but enough for him to drown in the waters before arriving here.

It is as Singed reaches for his scalpel that the body proves less deceased as he initially assessed. A rattling, choking sound echoing through the caves as muscles twitch in the fight against death.

It is not far off though. The Pilt-waters have spread deep into his eye and his lungs mostly full with the water. If Singed gave it an hour at most he could return to his dissection of an incredibly fresh corpse.

There is the Shimmer though.

He hasn’t had the chance to even begin the animal trials. But he has created the first of the formula and when else will he get the opportunity of a subject so perfectly near death without creating the conditions himself?

If it fails it is not as if anyone has been lost – the omega will die without it and the formula clearly not correct.

Yes. He will at least try.

“Lanes,” the omega manages to gasp out as Singed moves to restrain him. He doubts this will be pleasant for him. Perhaps he may not consider living worth the agony he will endure. He isn’t conscious enough to be asked. “Vander.”

“Save your strength,” Singed advises him as he fills a syringe with the concoction that may just save the omegas’s life.

The omega goes still as the liquid disappears into his veins. Perhaps the experiment is a failure and an autopsy once again what Singed will be doing today.

A minute later the omega screams. Fighting against the restraints.

He is in terrible pain that is clear but his lungs sound stronger and clearer. The Shimmer helping fight off the infection as the cut around his eye tries to knit itself back together.

Shimmer alone will not save him and the point of this experiment is to prove it works at all. So Singed gets to work cleaning the rivers rot out of where it has taken root. Ignoring the screams as he works.

It takes three days to get the omega into a condition where Singed does not fear he will slip away the moment he is no longer actively monitored. The omega’s breathing consistent even if it is weak. His eye is clearly ruined by the infection but it seems to be stabilizing to something that can be contained even if it will never be defeated.

There is still no promise that the experiment will prove a success but Singed can contemplate things other than keeping the omega alive every moment.

Can contemplate what the omega said in the brief moment of consciousness when he first arrived.

A location and a name.

It is not a lot to go off of but it is also not nothing. And Singed knows the omega has at least two children, likely a mate as well. Assuming they were alive and had not been also part of the attack that led to the omega ending up in Singed’s care.

If they were alive they would likely be worried.

While he cannot provide reassurances to them that the omega is fine or will survive. He can at least inform them where the omega is.

The two pieces of information he has proves ample. Nearly all in the Undercity know of the Vander who build the Lanes. They point Singed in the direction of a pub in the center of it as they tell him that Vander ain’t that interested in business talk with his mate missing.

The door to the pub swings open when Singed knocks and the man who greets him is impressive if for his size alone. Singed supposes the omega’s bravado that day makes sense if this is who he has to enforce his will.

“You must be the alpha,” Singed says as the alpha’s gaze hardens.

Singed can see Viktor a bit further in the building. The boy’s expression as if he has seen a ghost. He no doubt hadn’t expected Singed to ever visit him, and with his mother missing fear making the worst options fill in the information blanks.

“What do you want?” the alpha demands, moving to block Viktor from view. The father just as protective as the mother. Which makes sense – Viktor is an impressive child.

“I know of your missing mate,” Singed informs. He would tell the alpha then and there the status of the omega’s condition but the fact Viktor will no doubt be listening in gives him pause. It would likely be distressing for him to hear what happened to his mother so bluntly and Singed not interested in or talented at gentle words. Better to let the father tell him later. “We should discuss privately.”

The alpha opens his mouth, likely to demand Singed tell him immediately. He freezes mid-action though, glancing behind himself not just to Viktor but to four other small-child faces that have been summoned by their curiosity. A proper undercity brood.

Singed briefly wonders which of them the omega was pregnant with when he had come and threated Singed.

“We can talk in his office,” the alpha says with a sharp nod to a small room off the bar.

It is intriguing that the alpha refers to it as his office and not theirs. The way he moves around it more evidence that he doesn’t consider it his own space. The seat at the paperwork-covered desk left empty while the alpha instead chooses to stand in a corner.

Singed notices the academy seal on a few of the scattered pages. Even the Dean’s personal signature on at least one.

It appears the omega and alpha are more important that Singed assumed. It may be useful to keep aware of them if only to know whether the divide between the two city halves may be even slightly closing and Singed’s secrecy under threat.

“What did you do to Silco?” the alpha demands. Looming over Singed with his full height and bulk.

It is a display that certainly would send a lot cowering in submission.

Singed long ago stopped bothering to be afraid of common intimidation tactics.

“I kept him alive.”

“What?” the alpha’s brow furrows and some of the aggressive tension in his body drops.

“He was near death when he came into my care thanks to the acts of someone else. I gave him something that gave him the strength to not perish. He is stable for now.” And his survival, while not guaranteed, seems a little more likely.

“Then bring him here!” the alpha demands.

“Unless you want him to die I would not suggest that. I said he was stable. But his condition could quickly deteriorate especially if moved.”

The alpha seems to finally be understanding the situation. Holding himself up by the desk and stress and grief take over his frame.

“Where is he? Can I see him?” he asks, desperation now heavy in his tone.

“He is at my lab.” Singed never labored under the delusion he would be trusted at his word when he decided to seek out the omega’s family. As much as he would prefer his location known only to him it would be inevitable he would have to allow at least one in to prove what he has said. “So long as you behave I will take you to him.”

“So long as I can see him,” the alpha agrees because he doesn’t have any other choice. “Lead the way.”

The children are all waiting outside the door to the office. Viktor and the four younger ones. They look either worried or scared. The younger ones all looking to the alpha for protection and reassurance the way children always will with their parents. Viktor however watched Singed, his mind clearly trying to understand how the pieces of information he has fits together. He is still remarkably bright for his age.

“I’m heading out, Viktor you’re in charge.” The alpha’s words seem well rehearsed and none of the children look at all surprised by them. “If I’m not back by morning-“

“Go to Benzo and tell him where to start looking,” Viktor finishes with a quick glance towards Singed. He knows there is a slight threat under those words should his father not be returned to him. Perhaps life in the Undercity is started to harden him to the things that must be done.

“That’s my boy,” the alpha says, ruffling at Viktor’s hair. He dwarfs his son when he presses against him in a one-arm hug. Viktor clearly having inherited the slighter frame of his omega mother. Whether he will gain more of his alpha father’s size as he grows will be interesting. Assuming Singed manages to save the omega the continued care and treatments that will be required will mean he will likely get to find out.

The walk back to the lab is silent. Not that Singed minds – unnecessary conversation not something he cares for. Nor does he care to try and help the stress the alpha clearly is under. Words will not change the outcome.

The alpha possesses surprising speed despite his size. Crossing the distance of the lab as soon as the omega is in sight. His hulking form leaning over the pale broken one of the omega laid out on the table as if he could protect him from further harm.

“Who did this to you Sil?” he asks, touch also surprisingly delicate as he brushes the hair from the omega’s face to reveal the likely ruined eye.

“He will not answer you,” Singed informs as he moves closer to ensure the alpha will not damage his experiments in his distress. “He is sedated to keep him unaware of the pain for now.”

“What happened?” the alpha asks again, and it takes a moment for Singed to realize he is talking to him and not the unconscious body of his mate.

“I do not know.” Nor did Singed particularly care to know. It was convenient for him that the omega was at the exact precipice of death for Singed to use as a subject of his first Shimmer trial and that is all he needs. “That is how I found him.”

“He’ll be okay though?” the alpha asks.

“Perhaps,” Singed replies as he prepares another dose of Shimmer. The alpha eyes him warily as he approaches but doesn’t attempt to impede his work. They will see if that changes once the omega’s body starts to convulse again. So long as he wakes before morning the alpha can be sedated as well if necessary. “I have done what I can. Now it is up to him.”

“He’ll be fine then,” the alpha says as he takes hold of the omega’s unresponsive hand. “He’s a tough bastard. No way he’d give up now when we are so close. He’ll pull through.”

The alpha isn’t actually looking for input. He’s just reassuring himself as he gently pets at the omega. Perhaps Singed should have waited until the omega’s survival was certain before seeking out the family. But he isn’t sure it ever truly will be.

“We shall see.” Singed does hope the omega survives. Only because it would mean the formula a success of course.

[scarlet-stu-dies]

18. 10. 2024

today was fun.

woke up at 5. read through bdc a bit before breakfast.

9 - 10 - nerve muscle physiology. they only taught us what we already knew about neurons from 11th/12th grade.

10 - 11 - anatomy - joints. taught us the basics about joints and their types and mostly covered everything except moveable joints.

11 - 1 - foundation course. basically teaching us how we are supposed to approach learning while in mbbs.

1 - 2 - walked back to the hostel, had lunch, went back to the college.

2 - 3 - biochem. mostly the proff took the entire time to talk about the subject and what he expects from us and about the exams and stuff.

3 - 5 - anatomy. all the teachers of the dept gathered us all, assigned each of us a cadaver (groups of 20) and had us take the cadaveric oath. ngl the formalin did make my eyes water. i was on table one so I was near the storage and ig there's more formalin covered stuff in there?

after that i accompanied my friends as they bought their books and then we all went to buy our dissection kits. (dissection is tomorrow!! can't wait!!) and by the time i came back to hostel it was 7-ish?

the seniors gathered us around, no ragging just a bit of an interaction. then dinner time rolled around but i skipped it to wash clothes 💀 (kya halat ho gayi hei yaar meri-)

anyway then me and my roommates tried group study. the keyword is 'TRIED'. none of us are group study people so it didn't work out.

i read the intro to the first chapter in physiology. and then started with anatomy lower limb. we're working on the hip bone rn and will finish that in tomorrow's lecture. i wanted to complete it tonight but i don't think that'll work out, really. it's already 1:30 and I don't wanna annoy my roommates by keeping the lights on for long.

and besides, i often found myself on the verge of falling asleep during lectures because I got used to sleeping a lot during the 5 months gap between neet and now and I don't want that to continue so ig i really should get some sleep.

good night, loves! <3

[scotianostra]

September 4th 1791 saw the birth of the notorious Dr Robert Knox, he is most infamous for buying bodies from Messrs Burke and Hare.

BefreI start the post, I again had to point out to people in Edinburgh last month that Burke and Hare were not graverobbers, they cut out the middle man, and apart from the first body they sold, a man called Donald who was a lodger in Hare's house, he died owing Hare money, so they filled his coffin with earth and sold him to the subject of this post.

Prior to his infamous involvement in the Burke and Hare murders, Robert Knox was a renowned lecturer of anatomy, esteemed zoologist, ethnologist and doctor. Knox was born to Mary (nee Scherer) and Robert Knox, a mathematics and natural philosophy teacher. Knox studied at The Royal High School before joining the University of Edinburgh in 1810. During his time at the University he was twice president of the undergraduate club the Royal Physical Society.

Following his graduation in 1814, Knox joined the army where he was posted to Brussels to attend to the wounded from the Battle of Waterloo.

On returning to Scotland in 1822, following stays in both France and South Africa, he was a key force in establishing a museum of anatomy and pathology at the College of Surgeons. Knox became Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh during which time he was involved in setting up a major anatomical school where he was famed for his gory lectures.

Before the 1832 Anatomy Act, the main supply of medical cadavers were those sentenced to death and dissection by the courts. The ability to acquire legal corpses became more difficult as anatomy’s importance grew and the number of executions decreased.

This is when grave robbing became a means of making money, mort safes, a metal grid over a grave, and watchtowers in burial grounds deterred this to an extent, but there was still a good trade in the grisly trade.

In a period of one year Burke and Hare supplied Knox with at least 16 bodies, the second last one was a local "character" James Wilson, known as Daft Jamie on the streets of Edinburgh, some of Knox's students recognised the body, Knox denied it was Jamie but when word started circulating that Wilson was missing, Knox dissected the body ahead of the others that were being held in storage; the head and feet were removed before the main dissection. Things were starting to unravel

The last body Burke and Hare sold to Knox was a middle aged Irish lass by the name of Margaret Docherty, two other lodgers, the Grays had seen Docherty with the duo and their respective partners the night of her murder, they grew suspicious when Burke refused to let her retrieve some belongings from a bed and subsequently discovered the body buried under a heap of straw, they informed the police, but not before the body had been removed and sold to Knox. They did however find items of bloodstained clothing. Early the following morning the police went to Knox's dissecting-rooms where they found Docherty's body, the Grays identified the poor woman's remains as the same woman seen in the lodgings with Burke and Hare, they were arrested. With very little evidence against them a decision was made to offer Hare a deal, he turned Kings evidence and testified against Burke, who of course was sent to the gallows.

Many found it hard to believe that such a prominent anatomist had failed to notice that the bodies he purchased had all undergone violent death, and had clearly not been recovered from graves. On 12 February 1829 an effigy of Knox was publicly hung before being torn to pieces in the street. He was vilified in popular ballads and caricatured in prints.

Despite being cleared of any knowledge of the murders by a medical committee, Knox was widely believed to have known more than he admitted about the origin of the cadavers he dissected and was progressively sidelined from the medical establishment in Edinburgh. After failed attempts to establish a new anatomical practice, or gain a university position, Knox embarked on lecture tours, translated French anatomical textbooks and wrote for medical journals. While he was an opponent of slavery, and critical of colonialism, Knox had strong views on racial difference. He was an early proponent of the race science which argued that humanity was divided into separate races, whose ability to acquire civilisation was very different.

Eventually Knox ended up in London, and there are differing accounts of his last years, however the belief that he died in poverty and obscurity is not true, in fact whilst in London, he was in frequent demand as a lecturer and continued to be a regular contributor to scientific journals. He engaged in part time general practice and, in 1856, was appointed Pathologist to what is now the Royal Marsden Hospital - a post which he held until his death in 1862. Knox was buried in Brookwood Cemetery near Woking but his grave was neglected and forgotten until in 1966 it was rediscovered by Professor Eric Mekie, a subsequent Conservator of the College Museum who arranged for the clearance of the weeds and foliage which had overgrown the grave and for it to be marked by a granite stone inscribed simply - Robert Knox - Anatomist 1791-1862, the grave, by the looks of it in the second and third pic, is seldom tended nowadays and is surely a macabre spot for a grisly tourist to track down with too much time on their hands. The first pic is Knox as portrayed in Edinburgh's Surgeons' Hall Museum.

Robert Knox however is not all forgotten, on a site I use often called Find a Grave, tributes are left by people, some just leave "flowers" but others also leave words like this left last year by an anon member "You where a brilliant mind a shame your name is connected to these vicious murders" an older post says "You were a brilliant doctor of anatomy. However, you made a horrible decision in dealing with Burke & Hare. Fortunately, you were able to salvage some of the career you had left, & move on, elsewhere. I hope you'll be resurrected in the future. I believe God forgave you for your mistake. I hope to see you in paradise in the future. For now, you must rest. Rest In Peace, Dr. Knox."

[battleczar]

First Contact

A nonfiction essay on death and touch

I didn’t expect to cry the first time I held a woman’s heart in my hands. The heart was a large cool weight, colored like pearlescent Georgia clay. It belonged to a woman who had died of a stroke at the age of 76, and who now lay before me in the basement cadaver lab of ——— University, faceless and open on the steel table. My classmates drew close around me, letting me cry, holding me with their presence, for the two minutes I took before I passed the heart to my left.

Massage therapy school is intense. For me, it was night classes fifteen hours a week, learning legal codes, debating ethical practices, categorizing the parts of the body from the mitochondria to the corpus callosum, and of course, learning touch. Always touch. For me, that was the most difficult part. Massage therapists learn a kind of touch that is just as psychological as it is physical, as we learn to think with our fingertips and emote with our palms. It is delicate and draining work, and at first I struggled to turn off my mind. I didn’t like to be touched so much by classmates that I barely knew. But I focused hard on learning our first skill: the “hello”. The “hello” is the first contact a massage therapist makes during a massage, and it is essential that it be full of calm and mindful intent. It lasts a breath before moving on, both a brief promise of trust and an expression of gratitude. It cannot be spoken, only felt.

It only took three months or so before I began to feel comfortable with the demands of my classes. As I settled more fully into the learning environment, my teachers began to teach without words. If I was palpating a classmate’s back, a teacher would walk over to me, observe my hands for a moment, and then place their own hands over mine. Without any questions being asked or answered, I would understand what they were telling me. It felt like experiencing the ah-ha! of fluency in a new language. Through wordless touch, my teachers corrected mistakes and fixed problems that I’m sure couldn’t have been adequately described out loud.

The cadaver lab was not a required course. I first had the chance to take it in my second quarter of school, but declined to register; I was frightened of how I might react to seeing dead bodies for the first time. I wanted to be a death doula, and I was worried that I would prove myself a squeamish coward, unfit to work with the dying. If I discovered weakness in this area, how could I continue with any of my training? But the next opportunity was my final chance to take the class, and so in June of 2019 I took a crack-of-dawn bus to ——— University, buzzing with coffee and fear. My anatomy teacher from massage therapy school was also a professor at———; she and my eighteen other classmates congregated in the dining hall at 8:50am. She answered our questions, we filled out safety waivers and consent forms, and each minute that I came closer to entering the lab, I felt more and more like I was dreaming. When I finally pulled on my lab coat and gloves and stepped foot into the cadaver lab, I was a hollow drum. A classmate came over to me and took my arm, and I felt her trembling energy: I wasn’t alone.

My first “hello” was not chosen so much for symbolic importance as it was that the human shin is a non-threatening place to touch. This was the shin of a formerly 58-year-old man, and it was cold and firm. I kept my fingertips there for a few seconds, determined not to flinch away. It surprised me to realize that I had no desire to flinch at all. There was no hostility in this body, nor anything inhuman. Together with my classmates, as our teacher lifted the pre-dissected quadriceps away from the femur, we silently said our “hello” to the man on the table, who had willed his body to teach us long after his words were gone.

Lunch break was very strange. We left the building stinking of formalin and methanol, the side door outside the lab emerging directly into the sprawling sunlit gardens of ———. I felt like I was moving underwater, reeling with revelation. Human bodies were beautiful. Nerves looked like mother-of-pearl fettuccine; the liver was enormous; metastasized cancer spread like bread mold; the spine was a cascading Jacob’s Ladder. I had spent so much time reading textbooks and studying diagrams, but none of that was real. To truly learn, I had to touch. Touch had opened a fourth dimension of comprehension. I sat on a bench beneath a willow tree and leaned my head on a classmate’s shoulder; another classmate came and sat on the grass, back against my legs. We passed our wonder to each other, and watched the willow leaves dance.

When we returned to the cadaver lab for the afternoon, we were all calmer, a little more eager to reach out to the cadavers. With our gloved hands full, we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, nudging questions and pressing answers. Momentarily distracted from examining her carpal tunnel, I held a former grandmother’s hand, and somebody handed me her heart, and suddenly the weight of my gratitude broke. I didn’t need to explain why I was crying to my classmates. They felt it too, and we all moved a little closer for it.

[epiarchive]

old pics from a weekend trip outta the city ^^

Update:

- Almost done with the first semester! Just finished my French exam and I think I’ll be able to pass. (A change of expectations because this isn’t high school anymore where I beat myself up for not acing everything)

- Yesterday we had a digital dissection class! (Cadavers are not available where I am, so we must make do with a human-sized iPad) Crazy fun. Intensely more interesting than sitting in a lecture hall for hours. I managed to answer a couple of questions asked by the profs since I did review some of the material… no way?! Spaced repetition?

- Trying to establish boundaries with school and personal life.

- Ran last night for the first time. Endorphins. Yes. Give.

- Now suffering from that post-lunch haze. It’s ok, all the more reason to use this as time to catch up on leisure reading.

My focus now is solely on med school exams. Voilà, that’s all. More studying content to come…

[safination]

hi i just finished reading your alastor fic on ao3 and!! i am soo down horrendously for the way you have written him!! the softness for his wife and their relationship as a whole! i love your take on his character! ive read your fic twice now and i'm eating up all the little details you've included with how close they are to each other! the way alastor will preen his wife's feathers, him always having an umbrella for her, the kisses to their rings, the way his smile will wobble sometimes.... ahhhh!! i think one of my favorite scenes was when his wife was gone for two days and finally came home & everything that happened after! especially the intimacy of the bath scene! i eat stuff like that UPPPP!!!!!! thank you for sharing such a marvelous story with us, it is one that i will think about for a long time!!

also- is Lys short for lysine LMAOO. i remember seeing the name for the first time and being like *eyesquint* is that an amino acid? pfft! i really appreciate all the science you've included- especially when alastor's wife was dissecting that cadaver in the forest; all the details about the serratus ventralis muscle. ive taken anatomy courses and i never was adept at memorizing the muscles LOL. if you don't mind me asking (and perfectly fine if you don't want to respond!), what are you studying? i'm pre-nursing so all this stuff with alastor's wife being a nurse/eventual doctor is right up my alley!

HI TO YOU AS WELL❤️ Their softness is everything to me. They’re so soft that they just become absolutely losers. Losers, I tell you. So in love that they become so lame.

YES LYS IS SHORT FOR LYSINE. Lys is the three letter shortcut for Lysine and K is the one letter shortcut for it. And AAA happens to be the nucleotide sequence that codes for Lysine haha.

I’ve also had to take anatomy courses lol because I’m actually doing a pre-med course rn. And I’ve just always loved medical! readers/OCs and all these classes Im taking can at least do something for me. If Im gonna suffer for 8+ years might as well make the most of it😭

Also mad respect to you for doing pre-nursing. Nursing is really hard. So kudos to you❤️

The anatomy classes were what inspired the scene with Reader’s craziness. Reenactment in drawing form:

(And don’t worry the rabbits are ethically sourced. There are businesses that specialize in giving out rabbits for study purposes. They raise the rabbits and give them a full and happy life. It was weird but cool to be able to see their insides and maddening to have to memorize the names of all their muscles. After we were done using their bodies they were given to graduate students who were doing their research. So not a single hair on the rabbit was wasted.)

Series: Partners in Death…and Life

[nastyburger]

Hi ! I'm not sure if you're still answering asks for dannyverse, but I just went through the whole tag (which is fueling yet another DP fixation in my brain) and had a couple Q's ! I'll put these in separate asks because it might get long idk ! Number one ! I'm curious as to if/how Dex's opinions on ghosts would differ from the other's as a result of him not actually being part ghost and being generally closer to his parents (and partaking in their research, which is often being about catching/studying ghosts). There's also the fact that Dex's only experience with a halfa (in his universe) is Vlad which is.... not a great first impression probably. I'd like to think that Danny (and probably Danny B, since they both grew up with Maddie and Jack treating ghosts as more non-sentient creatures), although at first he considers his ghostliness a trait that makes him a 'freak' as is implied in the show, would over time form more soldarity with ghosts and realize that they are in fact sentient and deserving of being treated as such. Ghouly and Mourner probably probably wouldn't have that same initial internalized prejudice against ghosts (or not to the same degree at least) considering they don't grow up with the Fenton's, but I imagine they similarly end up at a place of solidarity with ghosts since it's a part of them now. This isn't to say I think Dex is malicious towards ghosts or thinks badly of them or anything, just that there might be some dissonance there in relation to the others ? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this (and on any of the other's mentality around ghosts as what I wrote down are just guesses !)

great question! dex's relationship with ghosts is largely stems from a scientist standpoint (like a zoologist/outdoor biologist kind of way not a cadaver dissection way). Dex's journey with ghosts throughout the show is a lot of him just learning how they work, the intricacies of their biologies, and overcoming the biases or false information from his parent's studies. Especially when he starts to befriend some ghosts like clockwork or sydney.

Jack and Maddie likely do a little bit of dissection on the side but dex's constant involvement since childhood and their stronger relationship with him than other danny versions curbs a bit of this behavior (at least openly). When Dex starts his own independent study of ghosts at a young age, he did the easiest/most appropriate thing he could do which is behavioral observation. this gives him a completely unique perspective on ghosts that his parents don't have, whose studies where completely hypothetical at one point in their careers.

I do believe Jack and Maddie are actually good, (somewhat) ethical scientists in Dex's universe. I feel like they would have to be for him to take such interests as a child and not be scared off of it at some point. Their more questionable stuff is done in private and they teach Dex only the facts first, personal biases with asterisks later. (ex: ghosts are MONSTERS of course we still need to do more research on this to really confirm this)

Every other version of the Fenton's research is more along the lines of "we have to study ghosts to learn how to ERADICATE them" but Dex's parents lean more towards "we have to study ghosts because they're an unknown entity that needs to be explored........and also get rid of the one thats terrorizing the town". So yeah, there's still a bit of disdain there but theyre much more open to learning about how ghosts work, especially after their son becomes ecto-contaminated and they realize completely eliminating it from his system isnt really a plausible option.

SO, to summarize Dex's view on ghosts: he knows and has been exposed to his parents' biases and beliefs, maybe even internalized some of them (but hey what danny hasnt lol), but is ultimately taught to be his own scientist and form his own opinions and beliefs. At the dannyverse point in his story, he already understands the complexities of ghosts, how theyre not monolithic, and how vlad being an asshole is completely dependent on his human half not his ghost one. So when Dex meets the other halfas, there's not really that distance between them. If anything hes excited cause he gets to learn more about halfas and how they work beyond just vlad.

As for Dex's own relationship with ghostliness, thats heavily outweighed by the whole arm disabilities thing. The psychic ecto powers is so minor and not visible other than the green eyes, aside from control its not really something Dex needs to navigate. He probably feels a small kinship to ghosts because of this aspect but it ultimately doesnt bridge to any kind of understanding between them. At his core, Dex is still wholly human.

(Speedrun for everyone else and their relation to ghosthood: Canon Danny believes his ghost half makes him a freak, Danny B's human half was also heavily ostracized so he believed all of him was a freak, Mourner thought of her ghost half as a curse or punishment, Ghouly thinks of it as a superpower that was really cool but questions if he deserved to have it)