#my brain has been permanently altered over the last week

[goldenwilmon]

Directly inspired by this tweet 😌

[planstransamanacanalpanema]

The way diabetics learn about the risks of the disease has permanently altered my brain in comical ways.

So today, I bumped into a doorframe and knocked the omnipod out of my leg but didn't look and therefore didn't know I was bleeding from the site. I went to hang a curtain and looked down and a bunch of blood had dripped onto a specific toe and the blood had splattered around the area. And my initial instinct, as a diabetic absolutely terrified of losing my, at this point, totally healthy and normal feet, was that through some horrific and unmentioned complication, one of my toes had simply exploded and I had not been aware of this because I had developed neuropathy over the course of like an hour.

And granted, this is a funny story that I will be telling at work over the next few weeks, but it's also kind of sad. I've been warned for the last 16 years of every horrifying thing that could and, at least in the way most people talk about it, probably will happen to me, and I've been made terrified of every itchy spot on my feet and every minor vision change over the past few years and every sore spot in my mouth and this and that and everything all at once. Those doctors appointments I have every year, especially my eye doctor, are kind of nerve wracking because I always feel like, ok, this is going to be the year where they finally tell me my body is going to shit in irreparable ways.

There's a point to this in sort of a vague way, but in general. Stop feeding the diabetics in your life the stories about the ischemic bowels of your grandpa and your footless aunt. We know. Everyone knows. We've been told to the point that living a long and healthy life, while completely plausible, especially for young people now who started their lives with diabetes with today's resources, seems completely impossible and blindness and pain and suffering are an inevitability, and maybe we don't need that? Ok thanks.

[blogpostatron3000]

one of the questions im perplexed as to how its incorrect, but at least the first i got wrong (the very first on the paper!) is something ive made the same mistake on OVER AND OVER and have learned NOTHING from, despite knowing VERY WELL about it and my tendency to do it. im just too great an imbecile to pattern recognize. i looked wholeheartedly at some fluorocarbon and thought to myself "it could never hydrogen bond with water". very humbling! while thinking properly of the definition of an h-bond, too! just stared at all those fluorines and comprehended nothing, like the stupidest of idiots.

this wouldnt have happened last semester. i used to be so smart. it used to be that i could do upwards of 60 math problems a day and not get a single one wrong, and now i stumble may way through four and barely land on my feet each time. ive become so unbelievably stupid. i get tired after only 3 hours of study. 80% on a fucking test - suicide would be more respectable. everyone is going to be so disappointed with me and my sunken prospects, and i dont know if im more afraid of losing the good opinion of my friends or of my professors.

i dont know how im going to make it through university like this. i wish i'd never caught covid. i should be able to think straight by now if i werent irreparably altered in some way. maybe its the caffeine. i feel like my brain is on fire all the time ever since i started getting very info coffee, but im afraid to lay off, because if i still make infantile mistakes on everything i attempt it means the fault lies with nobody but myself, forever, and that i'll never be capable of Anything as worthwhile as before Ever Again.

what happens to me if i have covid brain damage? i know i must have some, studies show everyone who catches covid has some degree of it, and i'm almost definitely stupider now than i would've been if i'd never been infected once. but i mean Very Bad, Cognitively Impairing brain damage. what if this is permanent? what if i can never do math as well as i did again? what if i've been robbed of understanding of everything i love? nothing even feels real. these past couple of weeks i've felt like i've been showing up to places i don't belong and sitting through lectures i can barely stand to pay attention to. i'm like a speck of dust floating through the room, floating into my car, floating home. doing nothing. barely cognizant that he's in university, or that there's any urgency to be less of a moron.

[bitter-bloodbank]

hey! i’m pretty sure its different for every system. here’s my experience with this stuff, and i can try to give some tips on how to help everyone out within your system.

hidden under cut since its a bit of word emeto!

we’re polyfrag DID, unsure of how many fully developed (weird wording) alters we have, but we’ve got well over 300+ fragments. our fragments cannot front, nor can they really do any tasks. that’s simply how our brain has coped and works around having fragments.

regarding being in front, its weird for us. there are some days where we deal with heavy dissociation and constant switching. this lasts for hours and sometimes up to a few days. for the most part, i (killian) am in front. i’m a permanent host, so i rarely ever leave front. i’ve also adopted the title of singlet-sona, so its not the biggest deal if i’m in front for days/weeks/months on end. the longest time i’ve been out of front was for about a week, and that was sometime in november.

if you don’t really experience switching in the way that i do, i think making a set schedule for who gets front, when they get front, and how often they get front, might be able to help. it sounds a bit gatekeepy, but that’s the unfortunate part about DID. you need to gatekeep certain things, and at some points, being in front is one of those, especially when you’re in situations where you can’t afford to consistently switch.

obviously, if you can help it, give alters jobs. this can apply to fragments too. is one alter better/prefers to do the dishes? have them do it! would one alter rather do the laundry, and another fold clothes? let them share this job! once you split up fronting into jobs, and allow them to have time to do some things they enjoy, usually it calms everyone down, at least in my experience.

i hope this helps in some type of way :)

hello fellow polyfragmented DID systems, are you able to give enough time to all the parts who want it or is it a constant war for fronting time? there's just not enough time in the day for everyone who wants to front to be here. if you figured out how to make everyone happy, please for the love of god tell me how.

[furiousgoldfish]

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

[dangermousie]

Case File Compendium - ch 55

Good God, these are getting longer and longer, I feel like the ghost of Leo Tolstoy, sans the beard, is possessing me.

This was hilarious! And I love that despite last night, HY does not get the balance of power permanently altered. He Yu is so very young. And underneath the madness and the rage and the violence, he still has that remnant insecurity and awkwardness that could go away with age.

If he could use a scalpel as well as he can use his tongue, XQC would be the premiere surgeon of the country. But this was brilliant! God, I love XQC so very much!

I wondered for a minute why XQC does not act more distraught and destroyed and then it occurred to me - he is literally incapable of it. This is the same person who saw mangled bodies of his parents as a kid and moved on, the same one who kept functioning when he thought the sole person he loved, his sister, was dead. And this is the same here. He already doesn’t care if he lives or dies, this won’t change that. He will do with the latest horror the same as he did with the rest of the horrors in his life - shove it in a small room in the back of his mind and padlock it, while smoking three packs in a row. It’s not healthy but it enables him to survive.

YESSSSSS! He Yu was clearly fooling himself when he was all “he is gonna hate me and this is great!” He is distraught at the thought of XQC hating him but what the hell else did you expect?! It’s like a teeny baby step on the long road of remorse and groveling MB is gonna stick him on.

YES!!!! Applause!!!! Regardless of what one thinks XQC did or didn’t do, nothing he could have ever possibly done could justify what He Yu did. Not to mention, he treated He Yu when he was his doctor to the best of his ability. (Whatever one thinks of their post-employment interactions, he was not his doctor any more.)

The other thing, I don’t think XQC is a therapist. He’s a psychiatrist. He was clearly there to monitor HY’s illness back way when but it’s to treat physical manifestations and similar. That is why so many of his interactions come from this place. Sure, he talked about HY reintegrating back into society but it wasn’t part of any specific structured therapy sessions, it was just his personal beliefs/conversations. HY needed a bona fide therapist for proper therapy. But his parents never got HY one because they only cared about him being controlled enough to not cause issues to them, they never cared about his well-being. Hell, they never bothered to get him ANY doctor once XQC left and HY was only 14. Because hey, he controls himself so who cares about mental trauma. They are the worst!

Oh God, I want to cosmically slap HY into next week. “You Honor, I drugged and raped a dude but that’s justified because I never got birthday cake as a kid.” I am imagining that as a defense in a court of law.

Yes, I am being snide and disingenuous and reductionist because He Yu’s issues are obviously way beyond that and are genuine and serious, but I have absolutely zero sympathy for a rapist telling his victim that he is the one actually wronged.

And then he says he wouldn’t tell the truth because HY couldn’t bear it.

And guess what? Last night has proven XQC right on all accounts - yes, XX should stay away from He Yu as should anyone who likes self-preservation. And yes, learning that things were hallucinations was something HY couldn’t bear (yes, it got aggravated by finding out people concealed that, but I don’t think reaction would have been in the realm of good even without that.)

I loved that bit so much and I love that He Yu was sooooo close and then wrecked it himself.

The thing is, I don’t think all of the “XQC didn’t see the strength/validity of He Yu’s feelings” is what it seems. I don’t think it’s because he’s paternalistic or weird or heartless. I think it’s a defense mechanism due to trauma. He refuses to see ANYONE’s feelings - hell, he refused his wife’s! I think once his parents were murdered, he locked his heart to survive and refused to allow anyone or anything is so as not to be hurt again. XX is the only exception and that is because she was grandfathered in, so to speak.

And then HY’s actions actually did manage to make it through to the armor. Only for He Yu’s other actions to slam that door shut and put an extra layer of protection on.

Ummm, there is nothing in these chapters that is convincing me that He Yu shouldn’t be locked up forever and instead should be allowed to be in human society.

In general, I keep wondering how XQC will get past chapter 52-53 stuff and my brain breaks. Despite the vast amounts of noncon in 2ha, it is a much easier case there. CWN of main storyline never truly had to - he kept thinking his flashbacks were not real memories but weird dreams and by the time he realized they weren’t, he learned about the flower shortly after and how none of TXJ’s actions were really his fault in close succession. CWN -.5 also learned that near the end of the 0.5 timeline and that is what allowed him to love even that warped 0.5 version of Mo Ran and to tell him to forgive himself before CWN 0.5 died. And when we look at whatever went on with CWN and zombie Taxian Jun, leaving aside that CWN himself was in part looking for the man he loved and lost and being with this tormented, destroyed, controlled version of him was the most he could have, zombie TXJ was not even a proper person to be held responsible - he was a sliver of a soul, mad and controlled and with memory and personality lacunae the size of Australia. And of course the fact that he is the way he is because he sacrificed himself for CWN hangs over everything. We don’t even need to get into “and CWN loves him” to get why for CWN this is really a non-issue.

Despite a much healthier dynamic, Yuwu is interestingly closer. Because Mo Xi x Gu Mang first time is dubcon at best. But even there, it’s a very old-school romance novel set up of “gentleman overcome by his feelings can’t control himself” (and I am not going to get into the fact that Gu Mang’s life is so devoid of love that it’s matter of fact for him to look past the method of expression and fixate instead of the feelings being shown however dysfunctionally, because it would make me depressed.) But it’s basically, intense and terrible at intractions bear child Mo Xi expressing his love/lust/obsession/admiration/devotion to Gu Mang even if in an insane way and Gu Mang is under no mistake than that is what it is and they are in mutual love with GM having the emotional upper hand in every interaction this included (in fact, when he defects some years later, one of the regrets he feels is that he was always more crucial/paramount to Mo Xi than other way around.)

But CFC - forget 2ha, it’s not even Yuwu set-up! He Yu does what he does explicitly to humiliate and destroy and hurt XQC and makes no bones about it - saying things to humiliate him throughout, acting in such a way etc etc. It’s not even a sex version of the infamous Russian proverb “if he beats you means he loves you,” it’s just rape as an act of revenge and power and degradation. (And yes, as a reader, you are aware that the reason HY glommed onto that specifically is because without getting it at all, he’s been obsessed romantically/sexually with XQC for years so he’s acting out. But there is no way XQC can get anything like that from it and even if he somehow magically could when even HY himself doesn’t get it, expressing interest through humiliating and hurting someone on purpose to hurt and humiliate is a whole other level from something like Yuwu.)

So how?!

[sleep-i-ness]

Did You Miss Me? (Missy x reader)

Blurb: It has been six years since you last saw her. Six long, lonely years since the Doctor had dropped you off at your apartment without so much as a word of goodbye.

Taglist: @kjaneway1​

It was pitiful weather, the morning the Doctor came knocking. You remembered it precisely because it had been tipping it down outside, droplets splattering against the pavement and branches of the cherry tapping frantically against the window. Catching sight of the dark, heavy clouds blotting out the sky, you hadn’t been able to keep yourself from groaning at the meagre light illuminating the grey London streets. You were mourning the loss of your favourite umbrella (destroyed by the gale-force winds yesterday) and therefore could predict the inevitable destruction to your hair during your commute to work. You’d been considering calling in sick, musing over whether it was worth it as your hands delved into the suds-filled water, when you were interrupted by a loud rapping at the front door. Who on earth would be calling at 7am?

“I’m coming, I’m coming, give me a second,” you grumbled as you rushed from the kitchen, discarding the tea towel to one side. Wrenching the door open (it had become stiff as the wood had swelled with the cold), you were greeted with a dripping Doctor. You half-contemplated closing the door on him then and there.

“May I come in?” He waltzed in, shaking himself like a wet dog in your hallway and you frowned.

“Make yourself at home,” you murmured dryly, grabbing the spare jumper you kept in the coat cupboard just for him. It had been an old fleece of your dad’s, a remnant of the past that you weren’t quite sure you should hold onto. You’d contemplated chucking it out the last time you’d done a spring clean but some small part of you had hoped the Doctor would return. It seemed your hopes had been realised but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing anymore.

Bustling round the kettle, you filled it up for two, grabbing a couple of mugs from the overhead shelf. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been sat where he was now, at the island table, flipping through a trashy magazine from last April and simultaneously glancing around at the knick-knacks and post-cards up on the walls. He was silent, a permanent frown etched into his skin, but that, you supposed, was his new face. You still weren’t completely used to it. Although, he did suit grey and Scottish; it gave him the gravity that his last regeneration somewhat lacked.

“You’ve changed the place up a bit.” The Doctor noted, fiddling with the doily covering the sugar bowl before moving on and turning over the small figurine, a memento from your life before her. You glanced over worriedly as he hesitated too long over it, before shaking his head and moving onto the next trinket. “A lot more… stuff.”

“Thank you.”

The hiss of the kettle distracted you, and you were thankful for it, for it broke the awkward need for small talk hanging in the air. You poured the bubbling water over the tea bags, stirring gently, before automatically tipping a spoonful of sugar into his mug.

“Here.” You pushed his across the table, before leaning back against the cupboard. Sipping at your tea, you sighed. “Now what do you want, Doctor?”

His bushy eyebrows shot up in response before he chuckled. “Always straight to the point. I’d forgotten how much I missed that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Enough with the dancing around the topic, Doctor. What are you here for? I haven’t seen you in 6 years, not since you dumped me straight back to my apartment.”

He’d saved you, or at least that’s what you had assured yourself. The cheesy warmth you had felt when looking at her; the soft smile barely twitching at her lips as you waltzed around Louis XIV’s ballroom; the adventures she’d dragged you on despite your various protestations; the night under the stars when she… No. How could you forget the days, weeks, maybe even months trapped under her watch? On display in a cage for her to mock your silly human bravery. The destruction that had ravaged your planet, the one place you’d hoped you’d be safe from the Doctor and anyone else who would have been looking for you. The way she’d laughed at the tears streaming down your face as you surrendered yourself to prevent the slaughter of your people.

If it weren’t for the Doctor, you would never have escaped. You would never have reached this safety, no matter how alone you now were.

“She’s asked after you again.”

You laughed bitterly. Of course, she had. What didn’t she understand about the fact that her joyful revelling in your pain meant that you never wanted to see her again? “No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” He protested,

“I didn’t have to. I’m not going.”

“Why? What is her obsession with you? And why are you so firmly against seeing her once?”

“Is it not enough that she is a complete and utter psycho? That she massacred millions for sport?” You placed your hands firmly on the countertop, inhaling deeply through your nose. Your voice was low when you spoke again. “Doctor, I don’t care if it’ll help her become a good person. I’m not going. And if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

His eyebrows furrowed, like two great white caterpillars crawling towards each other, and you maintained your hard stare. No matter the face, he’d always managed to tug on your heartstrings and make you change your mind. But not today. This was something you would not budge on.

:.

You weren’t sure what you were doing here, hovering anxiously by the doors. Unwilling to take another step and commit yourself to this. His TARDIS hadn’t changed a day since you last stepped out of it; sure, the company she carried had altered, but, at her very core, you could feel that she was still the same. She hummed at you, an impatient sounding noise and you scowled. You’d forgotten how annoying having a somewhat opinionated ship was when she could read your every thought.

The Doctor had headed on in before you, confirming that you would follow him after collecting your thoughts. The door swung open in front of you, the soft orange glow of the core spilling out. The TARDIS took your breath away every time you stepped into it; your brain had never quite processed the concept of it being bigger on the inside. Circles covered the walls in an ordered pattern, glowing palely and Gallifreyan symbols decorated the console, inscribed onto the concentric rings.

Hesitating, you brushed your fingertips over the TARDIS’ console, feeling the reassuring buzz she sent you. You could see a flicker of purple fabric from where you stood and you made eye contact with him, noting the smug twinkle. Cocky prick.

Heading down the ramp to the lower level to join him – them, each step felt like a chore as if weights had been tied to your legs. You were dreading this, a deep unsettling sensation twisting your guts. The purple jacket came fully into view and you froze.

No.

“I just need to go check on the TARDIS’ engine. The old girl’s been complaining ever since she travelled into the other dimension,” the Doctor spilt out excuses, striding past you with a pat on the back. Forcing you to talk to her. You silently cursed him and sent him your harshest glare.

The familiar Victorian silhouette spun round, eyes following him up the ramp until they fell on you. Her grin faltered. “Well, look who’s turned up. Your punctuality really is shocking, pet.”

You raised a tentative hand in response, crinkling your features into a grimace. “Hey Missy,” Your voice was weak and rough sounding, even to your own ears.

She stalked closer, raising her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your left ear. Your breath caught in your throat, every nerve burning. The rough wool of her blazer gently scratched your skin, her thumb caressing the top of your cheekbone. Pulling away, she stepped back, the sudden distance feeling like you had been doused in icy water.

“A thousand years,” Missy mused, continuing to circle you slowly. Her poison-red lips pursed, eyes narrowing as she took you in. “You really have let yourself go to waste. What happened to those lovely royal robes? The red was very flattering.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, screwing your eyes shut. Why had you expected anything different? She hadn’t changed one bit.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” Your voice cracked and you willed your eyes to stop watering, swiping at them. “No. I’m not doing this, this is ridiculous.”

You made to turn, so very sick of her. Every breath felt laboured, a stone pressing down onto your chest, compressing your lungs. You couldn’t bear to look at her, to see her smug joy at bringing you down once again. Her hand snapped round your wrist, yanking you close into her chest.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” she murmured, breath fanning your cheeks. Missy pressed a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose, smirking as she leant back. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

You scoffed, trying to tear yourself out of her grip but her fingers were clamped too tightly. Damn Time Lady strength. You chuckled bitterly. “Now, tell me why I would ever miss you.”

At that, Missy wavered, realising, for the first time, that you weren’t going to fall straight back into her arms. Confusion flickered across her features before she smoothed out her brow. “Why wouldn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that teeny-tiny incident on Midanithair.”

“Teeny-tiny incident?” You spluttered, an ever-growing uncomfortable feeling sinking into your stomach. Your mouth tasted bitter, acrid as you swallowed harshly. “God, Missy, get your head out of your arse and actually remember what happened. I had finally escaped from all of... this when you came along, wreaking havoc and destruction and threatening genocide if I didn’t sacrifice myself. And then you mocked me for weeks for my ‘humanity’.”

You exhaled through your nose before breaking free from her grip. “I’m sorry, Miss, I really… just can’t right now.”

You could feel her gaze trailing you as you headed back up the ramp, making eye contact once again with the Doctor, an odd sense of déjà vu passing over you as he raised an eyebrow. You paused at the top of the ramp; eyes firmly fixed on the doors. Part of you wanted her to call you back, show you that she truly had cared. But the rational, logical side of you knew that this was for the best.

You nodded, trying desperately to convince yourself to walk out that door and never look back.

“Wait.”

And with that, you knew you’d be putty in her hands once again.

“What?” Your tone was harsher than you had expected, and Missy genuinely looked upset. The dull stab of guilt was a gentle pang, your heart twinging empathetically.

“I’m sorry. I truly am.”

You started to walk back to her, stopping a metre in front of her. “Why should I believe you?”

“I’ve apologised, is that not enough?” Her accent grew thicker as she grew more flustered. She’d never had to apologise sincerely before. “And… I realised that your presence was not as much of a nuisance as I had previously believed.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, barely louder than a whisper. You stifled a laugh, knowing that was the closest to a sentiment of affection you’d ever receive from her. Brash, arrogant compliments were more her thing, the cockiness hiding any deeper level of emotion.

Almost timidly, she reached out to you and you let her pull you in. Falling limply into her arms, you smiled softly as one of her hands came up to stroke your hair.

“I did miss you, Miss. Promise.”

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

[lovesbitca8]

Reactions to the Final Chapter of The Auction (1/?)

@abitchytrashcan​ said: Thank you so much to the alphabet team and you for creating this beautiful masterpiece, You somehow managed to make me cry while I was reading the ending. You broke my heart into pieces and somehow managed to fix it in record time, A perfect end to a painfully beautiful story, I shall now reread and go back to the canon of TRRTD and ATWT to cope with this empty hole where my heart should be. 👏👏👏

Anonymous said: First of all: Congrats on finishing the wonderful piece of art that is TA!!!! But Juls. How. could. you. do. this. I neeeeeed to know what is going to happen nooooooow?? Are they siblings? Is this magical incest now? Will that stop them? Will Panville happen in this universe? Gaaah! Even if those questions will never be answered - thank you again for sharing this with us. I feel truly blessed.

Anonymous said: I have no words. I really cannot thank you for your brilliance enough. I have been on such a journey with this story for over a year and you have truly ruined me forever in the best ways possible. That said, how could you not give us the reunion sex and Hermione saying I love you!?!??!!!?!?!? (I’m joking but also heartbroken) 💔💔😰😭😭😭😳🤯😠🥺🥺🥺🥺 hoping that appears in all right at some point but still thank you always I will be returning to this fic for years to come 🧡

Anonymous said: You legitimately changed my life with this story. Not me being able to HEAR Draco’s commentary in my head at the very end because you allowed us to know your Draco so personal in all the wrong things. Girl I know he was thinking look at me. 🤭 I am blown away my brain will be repeating this ending for days on end. I will probably reread the entire SERIES this week even though it’s my college finals and I am already suffering. At least let my heart and soul suffer too

Anonymous said: I’ve been reading you’re “Rights and Wrongs” series on ao3 and all I can think about is how much I would love a Hogwarts Era addition. Anything Hogwarts Era—an altered house or an earlier Dramione or even a no Voldemort AU. I’m just so in love with you’re characterization and your dialogue and really just your writing in general! Hope you’re well!!

I’ve written some Hogwarts Era fics (you can find them on my Ao3), but I won’t be doing anything specifically from the Rights and Wrongs universe in a Hogwarts Era AU. <3

Anonymous said: I never want to come across as the demanding or entitled reader forcing you to do anything bc I am genuinely so appreciated that you share any of your writing with us at all. I would literally pay you to write an epilogue or another chapter either in the auction or as part of all right bc I cannot survive without knowing where Draco has been and what he’s been up to, Hermione finally being able to tell him she loves him in person, and that reunion sex BOTH the night before he goes to Azkaban and immediately when he gets out LMAO. I’m sorry as much as I love Draco, YOU, JULES, HAVE BEWITCHED ME BODY AND SOUL AND HEART AND MIND AND I’m permanently incapable of recovering from this 🧡

Anonymous said: Will we get to know what Draco was up to when he was away? Also, I died a little after the grand finale of the auction. Thank you so much for everything and I love you so much.

Lol just kidding. No further stories/epilogues are planned. The story ends there with the intention that the timelines converge with The Right Thing To Do. The HEA is implied. We talked in more depth about where Draco was on the podcast, but essentially he was at an uncharted Malfoy estate with Kreacher. 

Anonymous said: SPOILER WARNING HELLO please..... my soft little heart at the nod to pansy x neville....... i literally teared up i adore them so 😭😭😭 the ending trials were wonderful and sad in all the right ways, you’re brilliant at writing tension! and the bittersweet moment with ron, ugh, perfect. the end of an era!! i almost don’t want it to be so!!!

user062900 said: I’m crying I’m actually crying what a journey wow. I just have no words I’m i just it’s so beautifully written and perfect. Thank you so much for writing the series it gave me an insane amount of joy to look forward to every chapter❤️❤️❤️

Anonymous said: I can't believe that the Auction is over. I started to read it after you updated to chapter 19, first WIP I ever read, and I just finished chapter 41. Your writing is utterly gorgeous and I 'm so happy I competed to reading literally all of your writing. The last chapter was like a punch in the gut, in the best way. There was a happy ending without any sacrifices of plot or character development. But I still really want to know what Draco was up to in his boxers, and where he got his clothes.

Anonymous said: I've finished reading TA (beautiful btw 100/10) & decided to spend the whole night catching up on TRTTD & the pinning - ugh ✨immaculate✨ i love the way you write draco love for hermione & vice versa, to be willing to sacrifice everything for a person without expecting ANYTHING in return nor knowing if the feelings are mutual but that doesn't matter b/c you love them so much.😭😭Sorry for the long ask but TA & TRTTD had me on an emotional rollercoaster that I had to show my love for them. I hope you're doing well!💖

docmartinis said: ahh the final chapter made me cry :( i loved it tho, amazing work !!

mxstyassasxin said: Ahskfhagafskdhshk!!!!!!! I LOVED IT! Thank you so so much for writing such brilliance. The links with TRTTD were perfect 💖 I'm so damn happy right now!!

Anonymous said: I’M CRYING!!!! That ending killed me. This story will haunt me for years

Anonymous said: I love that you had it end at Cornerstone. The dance allusion. Full circle indeed. I am speechless.

puresteph said: Just want to say, I loved the ending! You all did fabulous and although I will miss it, I hope you all have a lovely rest, drink some beverage of your preference, your world has been a big part of my 2020 and has been there when I truly needed it. I will be forever grateful to you for that. I’m totally doing a reread in the New Year! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! 💚

Anonymous said: The ending was beautiful. I was at the edge of my seat waiting for when they would be reunited and it was perfect. The threads and knots that you have woven through the entire universe all met up at a single place. It was fitting in a way of taking a breathe and releasing it! This entire project was filled with soo much noise that the quietness of the ending is truly fitting. It’s like when the background music of a movie quiets out slowly after being loud throughout the whole movie.

[macgyvermedical]

Soup: a “Tesla + Bell + Edison + Mac” Medical Review

“You have a perfectly functional syringe pump with the PCA in the background, and you’re going to give him an injection with a metal needle? Also, if you’re gonna sedate him you might as well use the IV pump too??? Like, you have a whole ‘nother channel?? Most floor nurses would kill for that setup?” <--- From my notes on this ep.*

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border - Mason + Cable + Choices - Bitter Harvest - Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck -

In case you didn’t see it, the story went like this: After being knocked unconscious trying to prevent Codex from stealing an encoded map to a Tesla-era WMD, Mac wakes to find he’s lost certain memories of the event that are crucial to interpreting the weapon’s location. In order to recover the memories and stop Codex from getting there first, Matty calls on a friend at DARPA who studies experimental memory-recovery drugs. Drugged, Mac enters a dream state to track down the memories, where he encounters his mother, a man he recently chose to kill to save everyone in LA, his high-school bully, and a darker version of himself who thinks Codex’s directive to kill an eighth of the population to save the world might not be too far off the mark.

So there’s a lot to talk about here medically. For this post, I’ll go into the concussion and its aftermath, the drug and it’s administration, and the medical technology that the Phoenix infirmary seems to have at its disposal.

The Concussion/Amnesia:

Mac is knocked out by a blow to the head. He wakes up “a few hours” later in the Phoenix infirmary. I’ve talked about concussions before (see here, here, and here), so I’m not going to go into too much detail about them in this post, but essentially if someone’s out for that long, they’re in trouble.

It’s reasonably common to lose consciousness in a concussion, but it’s usually only for seconds to minutes, and if it occurs at all, that person needs prompt medical evaluation in an emergency room. Even if there ends up being no major complications, like bleeding in the brain or an increase in pressure in the skull, the recovery time for concussions with a loss of consciousness can be in the weeks or months range. Someone who’s out for “hours” is looking at a stay in a neuro ICU and probably severe and possibly permanent brain damage. Like, it’s a season-long arc at least.

Since we’re not seeing that level of medical need, I think it would probably be safe to assume that Mac wasn’t actually out for “hours” as stated. He could have been briefly unconscious, as shown in the house attack scene, but then had trouble forming memories after that, which caused him to not remember the ride back to Phoenix very well, if at all. These are still concerning enough symptoms that I would have taken him to an emergency department instead of to the infirmary, but at least with that scenario there’s a possibility what happened to him isn’t actively life threatening outside of a neuro ICU.

Unlike the extended period of unconsciousness, the portrayal of amnesia isn’t far off the mark for once. The amnesia that Mac suffers is actually pretty reasonable- trouble remembering the incident and the events just before it is common in head injuries, as is having trouble forming new memories after. Not only is accurate amnesia something that I didn’t expect out of Rob Pearlstein (writer of the infamous Guts + Fuel + Hope), but it’s something that fiction as a whole (including, I’ll admit, 1985 MacGyver**) tends to struggle with. So kudos for that specific part of this episode, Pearlstein.

The Drug:

Even if we assume Mac wasn’t unconscious that whole time, the brief unconsciousness and memory problems indicate that he still had a pretty significant concussion that needed medical care and monitoring. I’m guessing that as advanced as the Phoenix Infirmary is, it doesn’t have the capacity to do neurosurgery or intracranial pressure monitoring. That means the Phoenix medical team’s priority in this situation would essentially be to catch any major, life-threatening complication as early as possible, and if one happened, get Mac to a hospital quickly enough to save him.

The best and lowest-tech tool they have to this end is repeated mental status exams. Mental status exams have the patient answer a series of questions like “what’s your name?” “what day is it?” “where are you right now?” “what happened to you/why am I asking you these questions?”  followed up with a series of mental tasks like counting backwards from 100 by 7s or making a logical decision based on a given scenario. If Mac’s answers significantly change, from one assessment to the next, that could mean he’s in trouble. 

Because these assessments rely so heavily on Mac’s ability to answer questions and perform tasks accurately, and they’re really the only thing that’s going to catch a serious problem early enough to save Mac’s life, the last thing you’d want to do is give him a drug cocktail that would alter his perception of where he is and what’s going on around him. I’ll just… leave that there.

But let’s assume that for some reason they have a non-CT way of assessing whether Mac’s about to die from a brain bleed while in a drug-induced dream state (they do appear to have limited EEG capability- can anyone tell me if this would still be helpful in the context of the drugs?). I’m not going to talk too much about the drug cocktail itself, since it was stated as fictional (so, essentially, anything they say it does it can probably do), but since they do reference it as containing DMT, I invite you to check out the erowid experience vault for DMT for stories of other people’s experiences with it.  

I will, however, talk a little about the administration of the drug. In the episode, a syringe with a needle is used to deliver the medication. Though not explicitly shown, I assume Dr. Cheryl inserted the metal needle into one of Mac’s arm veins and injected the drug.

Something that fiction generally doesn’t understand is that inserting a metal needle into a vein in order to administer medication doesn’t happen in a medical setting. Ever. The ONLY way to administer a medication IV in a medical setting is through an IV cannula- a short, flexible plastic tube inserted into a vein, often just colloquially called an “IV”:

If Mac had one of these ^^^, the syringe could attach to one of the blue and white pieces and the medication could be injected without worrying that the needle could slip out of the vein (many IV medications must be injected slowly over several minutes, and that’s a long time to hold a needle still).

Before Dr. Cheryl gives him the drug, she takes his vitals and asks him some questions, namely whether he has ever had “a psychotic break”, then, without explaining further, asks if he thinks he will become violent.

Now, it does make sense to ask someone about their psych history when administering a drug known to have psych side effects, because those can be a lot worse or more likely for people with certain psych histories. Think about SSRIs and SNRIs- they’re good antidepressants, but when given to someone with bipolar disorder, they can greatly increase the risk of a manic episode, and that possibility has to be evaluated before the drug is prescribed.

The conversation should have started with Dr. Cheryl asking everyone else to leave the room. Asking if someone has ever experienced psychosis in front of their coworkers, is not only a serious breach of patient privacy, but could also be incredibly dangerous. If Mac had experienced psychosis, but didn’t want his coworkers to know, he’d either have to lie and risk side effects without being able to prepare, or feel pressured to release that medical information and possibly risk his job or reputation***.

Then she’d ask something to the effect of “have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness, been hospitalized for a mental health reason, or do you take any medications for a mental health problem?” And if the answer to that question was anything that would make the drug particularly dangerous to him, she’d probably tell him the risks and her assessment that it was a bad idea to proceed.

If there was no other option for some reason (I’d argue not the case in this situation), she’d tell him what the risks were, and only then would she possibly have to ask if he knew he might become aggressive, at which point they’d come up with how he’d like her to handle that possibility.

I know it’s not quite as snappy, but I would have really liked to see it.

Plus, unless it’s been asked off screen, Dr. Cheryl hasn’t asked him if he has any other health problems, if he takes any medications, or if he has any allergies, all of which could significantly impact how safe this drug could be for Mac.

Phoenix Infirmary Medical Tech

Now let’s look at some of the bits and pieces in the background of the episode. Particularly, I wanna talk about that chair, the IV pump, and the monitor.

So, chair first- it’s a dentist’s chair. It’s good for dental things and maybe some minor procedures (we have a slightly different chair in a doctor’s office I work at- we use it for things like implanting birth control, removing warts and moles, and providing wound care), but it’s not great for anything else. It’s especially not great if you have to sit there longer than a half hour. Considering we know from previous episodes that they have a full-on hospital bed somewhere at their disposal and possibly a couple of carts (narrower beds you see in the emergency department), I gotta say it makes literally no sense to put the guy who’s unconscious from a head injury in the procedure chair.

Next, the IV pump

We talked above about administering medications “IV push”- a medication “pushed” through an IV by a syringe, one dose at a time. Another way to give IV medication or fluids is via an IV drip or “piggyback”- the medication is diluted in a bag of saline or other IV fluid, and set to continuously run into a person’s IV. These are nice for doses of IV medication that have a lot of volume (like IV antibiotics) medication that wears off quickly and may need constant adjustment (like some kinds of sedation or some types of pain medication or medications that counteract shock), or just straight up IV fluids.

IV pumps control how fast the medication or fluid goes from the bag into the person. You can vaguely control this without a pump using gravity, a drip chamber, and a roller clamp, but if you need to know precisely how many milliliters of medication/fluid per hour is getting into a person, and you didn’t start your nursing career in the 1970s, you need a pump.

The one pictured above specifically consists of a central computer box (colloquially called a “brain”) where the pump rate can be programmed, flanked by interchangeable modules that each do a slightly different thing. The modules on the pump in the episode include an infusion pump, which essentially just pumps fluid from a bag hanging above it into a person, and a PCA pump. A PCA pump holds a syringe of medication (usually pain medication) and delivers a dose of it when the patient presses a button.

Honestly I think the whole things is just chillin’ in the background making the room look medical-y, but they really could have used it to continuously administer the drug or the sedation if they’d really wanted to incorporate it.

Side note, the modules are actually kind of heavy, so you have to balance them a little or the whole thing kinda tilts (see the screenshot from the episode). Also, for some reason if you stick an infusion module on the same side as a PCA module, the brain won’t recognize it half the time. Not sure if it’s a feature or a bug. Below is how someone who has ever once used one of these things would have set it up:

The other thing they have in the episode, and the last thing I’ll talk about before I let you get back to your life (I’m sure your cat misses you by now, mine sure does), is the monitor. 

I read several user manuals for this (real) monitor system in preparation for this post. I’ve concluded that it’s way, way above my med-surg pay grade, and usually used in operating rooms by anesthesiologists to monitor sedation level (so at least in theory they could be using it correctly? I’m as shocked as you are, really). I don’t even know what half those numbers mean (beyond the SpO2, heart rate, and respiratory rate), more than just being able to say they (surprisingly) do actually reflect real monitoring options on this thing. This leads me to believe this may be some kind of weird product placement thing? As if the gratuitous use of the Toyota backup cameras weren’t oddly forced enough.

Now, beyond the fact that this is a wildly high-tech, completely overkill machine for what is happening in the episode, the thing I would like to impress upon you is that regardless of the high tech-ness, every line on a monitor requires at least some attachment to the patient. Something measuring an EKG requires at least 3 leads on the patient. Something measuring oxygen saturation and pulse requires a clip on an ear or finger. Something measuring blood pressure requires a blood pressure cuff. Something measuring temperature usually means a probe somewhere the sun don’t shine. Mac has two little leads on his forehead. That is actually hilarious. He’d be covered in wires. He would have so much adhesive stuck to him.

In case you’re wondering, the heart/lungs/brain/person outline picture on the monitor just tells you how each part of the body is doing- like, the brain will turn yellow and then red if something starts going weird with the brain-related monitoring, same with the heart and lungs. It took an insane amount of searching to figure that out. I’ve been writing this post for 4 days now.

 *I had a much longer and rant-ier intro to this but I feel like I’ve complained enough on main about how the reboot dumbed down and politically neutralized an extremely opinionated and hardline character. I do really like this show, and the storylines are really interesting, but I need you all to understand how science-based and politically charged the original one was, especially in later seasons. You had such a platform for good here, CBS, and I’m hoping against hope the generic-action-show it’s become was some kind of weird, collective misunderstanding and not a censor problem. My main problem, having finished writing this post, is that he looks really weirdly good for someone who was unconscious with a head injury and then subjected to what was another few hours unconscious and hallucinating. Like, his shirt is still tucked in. Great update to the theme song, though.

**Twice. They played the bourne-style-amnesia storyline twice.

***At this point I can only recommend you watch the 1985 MacGyver Season 7 episode “Obsessed”- it’s a ridiculous-criminal-plot episode but the undertones are all anti-ableist (both criticizing the Phoenix Foundation board of directors’ ableism in assuming Pete is no longer fit to do his (desk) job after he loses his sight, and the pressure Pete himself is under to let MacGyver go because of mental health symptoms).

[cordonia]

Ethan + MC: “PUSHING DAISIES” AU: P1

Summary: Ethan Ramsey has gift that goes beyond his medical experience. With a single touch he can revive the dead for one minute before consequences take place. It’s handy, for his position at the hospital in a small town called Delarosa where crime is suddenly on the rise. Except it’s dangerous when he has the chance to revive the last girl he ever loved. Because nothing is for free. 

Warnings: This is less lighthearted than the show. Death, mention of physical attack and injuries. Also Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) is one of the best shows ever so this is your warning to watch it. 

Word Count: 1550

Ethan Ramsey was thirty-seven years, twenty weeks, four days and fifteen minutes old. He was unlike most of the people who inhabited the small town he had lived in all of his life. At a very young age he had learned more about the balance of the universe than anyone he had ever met. He had suffered because of the ignorance around him, but it meant that he could stay, possibly forever. 

Perhaps it also meant that he could not leave, the risk too great to expose to a greater audience than the regulars in his life. Thinking about it that way only made him feel trapped.

There were only two people who knew of his capabilities, one being June Hirata who was the director of Diagnostic Medicine until two years prior when the program had shut down. Believe it or not, there was little need for a diagnostic team when there were fewer than ten thousand people in their hometown. Ethan was moved to head of Trauma and June was head of Neurology, and while those titles sounded exciting, they were both too good for the very small hospital. 

A lot had happened in the past two years, including Mariana Valentine leaving their hometown. Leaving him. 

“Call it.” June’s tone was firm, and the resident who followed her around like a puppy hesitantly exited the room. Ethan stood still, his whole body attuned to only one person in the room. He couldn’t look away. 

Mariana wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t have been lying on the gurney, head trauma severe enough that the resident had almost thrown up. One good blow with a weapon and she was gone within two hours. This was not how he was supposed to remember her, the last memory he would ever have. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

“Go grab some coffee, Ethan. I’ll finish everything here.” 

This was not an offer she would make under any other circumstance, she only ever volunteered her puppy. Lahela, to name him, something that Ethan should have gotten better at doing. There were many things he was supposed to do and change. There always felt like there would be more time. 

Mariana was an unexpected threat to his perception of reality. There was always time, until there wasn’t. 

“Leave, Ethan.” That was a warning. 

“Why is she here?” His voice didn’t waver, but his legs threatened to falter. Something seemed fitting about falling to his knees, but for what purpose? He did not need to pray when what he dreamed of asking for was woven into the tips of his fingers. 

“Don’t pretend like I would know. She was attacked on Mirani Drive, that’s all that they got out of Aveiro before he was called off again. The police will probably come in to question her, I’ll let them know she didn’t make it.” 

“She was only a street away from her parents house.” 

He could feel June’s stare burn through him, but he still couldn’t look away. He took a step closer to the bed and reached out-- 

“Ethan, I did not sign up for what happens when you watch her die again.” 

His gaze snapped to Dr. Hirata and she took a deep breath when she saw his expression. She was always stubborn, and exceptional at whatever job she had in front of her. But she was not God. And in that moment, it would take absolute proof of a higher power forbidding him one touch, to stop him.  

“Why doesn’t she deserve justice, just like the others?”

Dr. Hirata shook her head slowly, sighing. “You don’t know the others like you know her. I know that she was your best friend once, and you know that one minute will never be enough!”

One touch, anywhere upon her skin and her eyes would open to him for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time they had touched, it felt like a betrayal to everything he felt for her. He owed her the truth, it couldn’t really be too late. 

“One minute is all that I want.” A lie. He wanted an entire lifetime. 

“Fine, but I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms and stepped back into the corner, looking away from Ethan and the bed. June did not enjoy watching all laws of the universe being thrown out the window, even if she agreed that it helped in criminal cases.  

He reached for Mariana’s cheek and then pulled his hand back. Nothing felt quite appropriate, not when their friendship never involved a physical relationship in any form. Mostly. One single memory disrupted that truth. But they had not spoken in some time, so he reached out again and did not hesitate to put his hand in hers. 

Before there was a gasp for air, her hand tightened in his. But he had to let go. 

Fifty-nine seconds. 

“Mariana,” he entreated, almost breathless. “You’re at Delarosa General, you were attacked and I need to know who hurt you.” 

“Ethan,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and alert, “you found me.” 

Mariana Valentine; twenty-eight years, forty weeks, three days and two hours old. She would only grow one minute older. 

“We don’t have much time. Do you know what happened to you?” 

“Oh.” Mariana shook her head. She brought both of her hands to her face, wiping away at the tears that immediately formed. She felt no pain, Ethan knew that, but the agony written across her face was not physical. “It’s all over, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why this happened,” Ethan lamented, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to wrap himself around her and promise that this was the end of all pain, the beginning of eternity. 

Except his next touch would be the last and he did not know if death was an end or a beginning. He had no way to console her and no promises to make, only a heavy and permanent fate when his skin next brushed against hers. When he touched her again, she was dead for good.

His gift was often cruel, but he felt forsaken by all good in the universe. He had already lost his mother because of what he could do, he was surely being punished. He could not explain it any other way. 

“Tell my parents I’m sorry I went for that walk. I should have stayed home. And Ethan...” She looked away, her eyes catching June leaning against the wall. “I wanted to come back, I missed you and I missed my parents. I would have come back to you.”

“Every minute of our friendship changed me, I want you to know that.” He didn’t know what else to say, there was too much to filter through in seconds. 

That was their conclusion, a harrowing and blood soaked finale with no assurance of justice. One single minute on a gurney that ended as quickly as it began.

“Ethan,” June commanded. 

“No.” He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

Two seconds was no time to argue, and June was a survivor as much as she could be a fighter. She left so quickly that the room seemed to shudder upon her exit. 

“Ethan.” His name came from Mariana’s lips. She looked up at him in fear and confusion, and the weight of his choice had a tight grip around his throat. 

He didn’t know what to say. Their time was up, seconds past, and an alteration in the universe was completed. A life for a life. Mariana Valentine breathed because somewhere close by them, someone had just taken their last breath.

June, he thought as the panic burned in every vein. Guilt from every area of his life began to resurface, a compilation of every life he bruised, betrayed or buried. Who had he sacrificed to alter fate? This was not the person he wanted to be, the one he convinced himself he could be. He had never been more selfish in any minute of his life. 

“I’m still alive,” she cried, “what did you do?” She wasn’t angry or upset, rather overwhelmed with shock. 

“I couldn’t let you go, you were supposed to have more time.” His shame slowly evolved into a guilt ridden relief. She was safe, breathing against all odds and completely unaware of how complicated her life was about to become simply because she lived. 

There was one thing she had already considered, the beginning and end of her life after death. Ethan’s touch. 

“You can never touch me again.” She knew that something changed between then as soon as it was spoken aloud. Perhaps the one thing they hadn’t gotten the chance to explore; touch. 

He could recall almost every time their shoulders grazed when they watched documentaries together. Or when she covered his hands with hers and promised him he had a purpose. The very first and only time they had ever kissed held permanent real estate in multiple parts of his brain. The last time he was completely and purely content, unbeknownst to anyone in his life, was that kiss. 

They would never kiss again. 

And then, like an alarm during a ceremony, a scream sounded off throughout the trauma centre. The consequences found Ethan before he could find them.

“Declan Nash isn’t breathing!” 

Note: If there is any interest for me to continue this, I have a whole plan in place for the story. Also, it only makes sense for me to include some characters over others based on their value to the circumstances of this AU (not to Open Heart in general). I’m keeping what characters I think would fit into the story well and using other names in the story as places and so on. This would have lighter moments if I continued, the sad is out of the way...

Tagging: @ethandaddyramsey @binny1985 @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @edith-eggs1 @missmiimiie @queenofspades6 @schnitzelbutterfingers @longneckramsey @queencarb @kaavyaethanramsey @mkamra2355 @ethxnrxmsey whimsicalreader @jooous @blazerina @choices-lurker @itsgoingnuts @lilyvalentine @aworldoffandoms @choices-love-affair @nooruleman @junehiratas

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Ch. 14: While I'm Gone

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance •  Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor x Female OC

Chapter summary: The Doctor is slowly losing his mind searching for Avalon and Melody.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​

Lena held her sister's prized possession close to her chest. Ever since Avalon had been taken, Lena hadn't let that journal out of her sight. Avalon would want it first thing when she got back...because she would come back. It was just a matter of time.

That morning - or whatever time it was inside the TARDIS after waking up - Lena hurried towards the console room just like she had done from day 1 on their search for Avalon and Melody. And just like always, the Doctor was already in the room, working hard and fast to find a new lead on Avalon and Melody.

"Big brother, did you sleep?" Lena found herself wondering when she realized how untidy he looked. She understood that he needed way less sleep than she and the Sapling did, but he still needed some sleep.

"Yes, um, at some point...one night, can't remember! Busy!" the man was making rounds at the console, not particularly interested in conversations. These days he did a lot more talking to himself about possible clues than anything else.

Lena spotted his tweed jacket on the floor, the same spot he'd thrown it last night after getting a new lead. She and the Sapling had to get some sleep and the Doctor promised them that he would follow in a few minutes. He did not. "Big brother, nobody wants to find my sister and Melody as much as I do but you really need to get some sleep if this is going to work."

"I can sleep when I have Ava here and Melody with Amy and Rory," he said, his voice a bit snappish due to his lack of rest. He never snapped at her.

"But you can't find them if you can't think," Lena sighed. "That's why you sent me to sleep. Why don't you follow your own advice and take a few hours? I can keep looking. The Sapling should be up in a few hours too."

"I can't," the Doctor shook his head. "I followed the lead last night - it took me to the Messier 82 galaxy - and it turns out that there was a spotting of a woman with an eyepatch in one of the black markets. I went, but guess what!? It was a fake! It was a costume! What a waste of time! So now I'm back to zero! I cannot sleep!"

Lena looked at the journal in her arms. If Avalon could see him now, she would definitely slap him. She valued health over everything, even when she was the one who needed the help. "Avalon wouldn't want you to be like this. She wants you to rest."

"Lena! Are you going to help or not?" he snapped again.

"Yeah, I guess so," Lena came up to the console with a sigh. "So, where exactly are we?"

"Like I said: back to zero!"

"Okay," Lena nodded, trying to be the one to think rationally since she had all her hours of sleep. "Well, you said that Kovarian probably took Melody back to Earth in the past. But to find her would be dangerous because of Avalon's existence so we need to focus on Avalon first. We find her, she can tell us where Melody is and we can pick the right moment to take her without endangering Avalon's life." That was far easier said than done.

They'd spent weeks searching for Melody on Earth, but the Doctor ultimately called it off because of the danger they were putting on Avalon's life. The fact that she was Melody's daughter meant that they had be very careful choosing at what point to bring Melody back to her parents. Instead, they switched gears and focused on Avalon. The idea was that Avalon would know precisely where Melody was and they could extract the baby before she was raised on Earth. River had told him that in order for Avalon to continue existing, she needed to attend some university in the 51st century. The Doctor could arrange for young Melody to do that, no problem, but then he also started wondering if that was all that Melody needed to keep the timelines going? As he stated a while back, maybe the reason Melody did what she did at college, made the choices that she made, was because of her life on Earth. It was all a huge headache.

But one thing for sure, the one thing that River Song herself agreed upon, was that the Doctor needed to find Avalon first. She would never forgive him if he chose to search for Melody over Avalon. That made the Doctor feel a little less guilty about his decision when talking it out with Amy and Rory. He wasn't abandoning the search for Melody just because.

But finding Avalon was no more easy than finding Melody. It was like she had vanished into thin air. It terrified the Doctor wondering what they were doing to Avalon if she wasn't outside somewhere. If she was being kept inside, was she tied up? Was she being tortured? There was another part telling him that perhaps she'd been absorbed into their plans and was being trained like Melody, brainwashed no doubt. Repeated brainwashing could permanently damage the mind. If she was being trained to kill him - him - then she would be getting an extensive course. Everything Melody was meant to learn over the course of her life was being crammed into Avalon for the right day and time.

When his thoughts got too dark, even for him, the Doctor did everything he could to shake them off and focus on just finding her. If he found her, then all that could be avoided. "I don't know, I don't know..." he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had thought of all the possible places that he knew of but Avalon wasn't there. She was never seen.

"Big brother," Lena gently placed a hand on his arm. The Doctor dropped his hands from his face and glanced at Lena, showcasing the heavy guilt that'd permanently become part of his features. Lena rubbed his arm comfortingly. "Take a moment to breathe. Let's think about this, right? If they separated Avalon and Melody, and Melody's on Earth, then wouldn't that mean Avalon is basically on standby? Where could she stay if she was on standby?"

"Well," the Doctor took in a deep breath and focused on the facts they had about Kovarian's style. "They gave Melody absolute independence on Earth, but they were always watching her. If Avalon is following the same plan, then she has to be living the same thing."

"Right, except they wouldn't give her complete independence because she could run away."

"No, they would have to alter her..." the Doctor was very careful with what he said about what Kovarian might be doing to Avalon. Lena didn't need the images he had in his head. "They would have to change something," he settled for the neutral words instead. Her brain. They would have to change something in there to keep Avalon at bay, because Avalon Reynolds was not a woman you could keep at bay so easily. Her terrible temper made her a force to be reckoned with. That's where the brainwashing came in, he imagined. If they changed Avalon's thoughts, she would function just like they wanted her to.

"So then where they would keep her after that?" asked Lena.

"Don't know," the Doctor's eyes found the controls as a new thought popped into his head. "But I bet that whatever they're using they had to have bought it somewhere."

"We're going to the Black Markets, aren't we?" Lena guessed considering the dark nature of Kovarian.

The Doctor nodded. "To as many as we can."

~ 0 ~

3 Weeks after Demons Run.

The tears wouldn't stop falling from Avalon's eyes. She felt like a child constantly having to rub the tears off her face only for new ones to take their place seconds later.

River Song was her mother, River Song.

It didn't make sense. Yes, she knew she was adopted but never in her life did she consider that River might be the woman who gave her up? All those times that she'd bumped into River and the woman never said anything. She acted as if there was nothing bonding them together, blood. It infuriated Avalon all over again. River just paraded through social events, making sure everybody knew who she was and yet the one person that should've been the first to learn her name was the person River chose to abandon and then ignore.

Avalon's eyes fell to the pictures Kovarian had left her with.

"A gift," the woman had smugly said after returning Avalon to her room. She'd let the pile fall to the floor, sprawling around Avalon.

She had been very thorough proving to Avalon that River was Melody and her mother. She had brought Avalon to a room where they played several videos of River confirming that she was her mother. The best one, according to Kovarian, was the video they'd retrieved from Demons Run. River had explained who she was to everyone after the Silence took Avalon. There was no room for doubt.

Now Avalon was left with a series of pictures of River at her finest moments, all of which were her in a compromising illegal act. It was Kovarian's way of showing Avalon that her mother wasn't someone she should try to protect so much. It was a way for Avalon to hate her and willingly work for the Silence. After all, why would she want to protect her mother when she abandoned her?

Even if Avalon didn't want to give Kovarian the satisfaction of being right, Avalon couldn't help the anger that flourished each time she thought about River.

She abandoned me. She didn't want me..

The woman galavanted throughout the galaxies, doing whatever the hell she wanted, and she never once came to see her. River knew where she lived, where she was, and she never did anything. Avalon could understand that being in prison complicated things but River never seemed to mind the fact she was incarcerated. She was always up and ready for an adventure. So why would River leave her with someone else to raise?

Because she probably cramped River's style.

Avalon knew that she was a nobody. She had lived in boring old Leadworth and the only exciting thing about her was meeting the Doctor. She didn't have a penny to her name and she certainly didn't astounding qualities. River probably thought she was boring. How could she tell the world that she had given birth to a boring daughter?

Fresh tears stung her eyes. Avalon let out a fierce growl. Her hands found the closest picture and tore it into pieces. "How could you!?" her hand then swiped away any picture nearby, wanting nothing to do with them. "I hate you!"

Let River keep doing her own thing! She didn't need her. She'd done just fine without her for 22 years after all. If River didn't want her then Avalon wouldn't want her either.

The only mother she recognized was Emmalina Reynolds. Enmalina had protected her and loved her. She had been there to hug her when she was scared, to kiss her 'owies' when she'd fallen, to read bedtime stories to her each night. Emmalina had given Avalon her first journal to write in because she knew from the start what Avalon wanted to be when she grew up. Emmalina knew that before Avalon knew it. That's what a mother was like. She knew things that her child wouldn't know until much later. Emmalina had been there when River had been god knew where.

Avalon picked up another picture and studied it until she saw the last detail. River was dressed fashionably, almost like the first time Avalon met her back at the Byzantium, and was conversing with some woman. River held a beautiful sapphire blue jewel that no doubt had been priceless. The setting was an elegant party, judging by the decorations. Even the chandelier was big enough to be caught on the picture and it was made of diamonds. It seemed like a party Avalon would've loved to have gone to.

But where was she? At home, in Leadworth, on Earth. She'd been light years away from her mother and River didn't look the least bit upset by the matter.

Avalon's face scrunched as her hands gripped the corners of the picture. She yanked the two sides in the opposite direction and felt a dark satisfaction when she heard the picture tearing. Her gaze fell to the remaining pictures and before she knew it, she'd began to grab each of them and tore them until they were nothing but confetti on the ground.

But once there was nothing left, Avalon still couldn't get rid of the heavy pain in her chest. She wanted to scream and cry. Cry for everything that had gone wrong in her life, from the very moment she was born. Her shoulders slumped. The dark anger subsided for a moment to give way for her hear to break all over again.

Her vision blurred with all the tears in her eyes. My own mother didn't want me, what hope do I have? If her own mother didn't want her, how could she expect for anyone else to want her?

Would the Doctor even come for her? He never liked River to begin with and if he knew that she was River's daughter...would he hate her too? The mere thought terrified Avalon.

~0~

The Sapling was was quietly going through an album in the TARDIS library. Despite his insistence to help find his mother, his father and aunt Lena told him there was nothing for him to do right now. They had to start out by mapping the possible locations Avalon could be. But even when they visited most of those locations, there wasn't a job for him to actually help. Why? Because they hadn't actually found Avalon, nor Melody. They weren't in any of the locations.

It infuriated all three that they were no closer to finding either girl. The Sapling felt a tingling sensation each time he underwent a new episode of fury. He suspected it was his powers trying to manifest again and the only reason he worked hard to keep them within was because he wanted to use them on the woman who took Avalon and Melody.

But for now, the Sapling was resigned to wait. They needed to wait for anything significant to pop up so they could start the search again. It was why he was in the library, passing the time with the only thing he could: by going through his mother's photo albums. She had gone over them extensively because he had asked her to. Now he was going through them again, alone, and really missing his mother.

Lena had appeared at the doorway and yanked the Doctor to her side. "See!?" she was very careful to whisper so that the Sapling wouldn't hear them. "Poor thing's been locked in here for days. I try to get him to come out to eat something but he refuses."

"I don't blame him," the Doctor whispered as he took a peek inside the library. The Sapling was on the couch with the photo album on his lap. He spotted Avalon's journal sitting on the coffee table in front of the Sapling. "You let him have the journal?" he gave a questionable glance at Lena. She hadn't let go of that journal since she stepped into the TARDIS.

Lena's expression was sympathetic. "He misses his Mum." She motioned him to go to the Sapling. "I think you should spend some time with him."

The Doctor would want nothing more than that - well, perhaps spend time with him and Avalon would be better - but his attention had to be on the search. "I left the console to track the black markets selling the specific software Kovarian would need to use on Avalon. I have to be there if anything comes up."

"I can be there," Lena assured him. "If anything does come up, I'll give you a call."

"Lena," the Doctor sighed and shook his head. "I don't...I don't even know what to tell the Sapling. I mean, I told him that I would find his mother and I have yet to follow through. It's been almost a month and I've got nothing."

"He knows that you're searching hard. Right now, I think you just need to be there with him, like a Dad." Lena bumped his side encouragingly. "Just talk."

The Doctor seemed lost for another option. "But you'll be at the console, right?" Lena nodded. "And you'll call if anything comes up?"

"Of course I will," Lena reassured him that she wouldn't leave the console until he got back. With that, the Doctor truly had no choice but go on inside the library.

The Sapling hadn't noticed him initially. He was focused on a picture of Avalon with her brother, Gavin, in a park. They were both attempting to climb a tree but had stopped to pose for the picture.

"Even as a child your mother looks like a troublemaker," the Doctor came around and took a seat next to the Sapling. The Sapling cracked a smile as they both studied the photograph.

A fifteen year old Avalon was smirking at the camera. She might have done something previous to the picture and no one but her would know about it.

The Sapling agreed. "Yeah. Have you found her yet?"

The smile on the Doctor's face was quick to fall. He shook his head in shame. "I haven't yet. But I will."

"I'm scared, Father," the Sapling admitted, not that it was a news for the Doctor. "That woman was a very mean woman who hurt aunt Amy and her baby. What if she's hurting Mother right now?"

The Doctor closed his eyes for a second. He had thought about that so many times, with thorough images, that it left his body shaking each time. Kovarian was not merciful and because she wanted him dead, she would stop at nothing to make sure both Melody and Avalon were thoroughly skilled.

He wondered how many times Avalon had screamed in terror and pain since she'd been taken. How many times had she cried? How much time had it been for her? A week? A month? Years? His hearts ached thinking Avalon had spent years with Kovarian, just like Melody. She was waiting for him to find her and he hadn't been able to track a single clue of where she could be.

"I don't know what they're doing to her right now, but I promise you that we will get her back," the Doctor promised on his lives. The Sapling believed him. He always did.

"Why did they take Mother away, anyways? And baby Melody? They didn't do anything wrong."

Another hard question the Doctor wanted to avoid. "They didn't, of course they didn't," he first agreed. "They...these people that took them, they don't like me very much. They want to hurt me..."

"And they took Mother and Melody because of that?"

The Doctor nodded silently. Even though the Sapling was a child, he could easily read the guilt on the Doctor's face.

"It's not your fault," he said. "Mother would tell you that too."

"Yeah, she would." A brief smile appeared on the Doctor's face as he thought about Avalon's reaction. She would no doubt call him an idiot for believing that but then she would give him one of her warm hugs. He would then indulge himself by believing her for a moment.

"Do you love, Mother?" the Sapling suddenly questioned. Even though it was done in a gentle child's voice, it snapped the Doctor out of his thoughts in a second.

"Wh-what? I don't...what?" the stammering was a natural response given the heavy weight of the question. The Doctor's face went a deep red in the seconds that followed.

The Sapling just smiled. "I just wonder if my parents love each other. Melody's parents love each other."

"Sapling, uh, Amy and Rory have been married a good while now. Your mother and I...it's, uh, very complicated." And that was still an understatement. At times, he wanted Avalon right next to him so he could dote on her and show her anything she wanted; he was at her beck and call. But other times...he wanted to lock her in a room so he would leave her alone at least for five minutes. She would frustrate him to no end and having an argument with her was sure to end with both of them screaming at the top of their lungs. It was a strange feeling - as he hadn't had that type of relationship with anyone else - but he knew that even during those moments he still wanted her. He would still want to kiss her and hold her. He liked her, a lot, that was past news but to say 'love'...maybe not right now. But you are getting there, he made the startling conclusion. He visibly gulped. That was certainly new.

"Maybe...maybe not right now..." he whispered and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He would have to think back on those thoughts another time, preferably when Avalon wasn't in danger.

"For now," the Sapling said matter of factly as he flipped to the next page of the album. "You gave Mother that journal," he nodded to Avalon's journal on the table. "Uncle Rory gave aunt Amy a ring because he loved her. That's what humans do, but you're not very normal."

"Oh, thanks," the Doctor rolled his eyes. That sounded completely like Avalon.

The Sapling smiled widely. "You gave Mother a journal that never runs out of pages. She wants to write - you gave her the ultimate present. If you don't love her yet, you will soon. And I know that Mother will too."

The Doctor inwardly sighed. The last thing he needed was for that to get around. No doubt Kovarian already had an insight to his feelings towards Avalon. It fueled the game even more, putting Avalon right in the middle of it.

~0~

1 Month after Demons Run.

"Why am I here again?" Avalon asked as a female doctor bound her wrists to the metal chair she was forced to sit on. She was back in the room with the screen that originally showed Avalon who her mother was. She didn't want to be there again - actually, she didn't want to be anywhere near Kovarian.

"Because we need to start your conditioning," Kovarian gave the female doctor a nod when Avalon was secured to the chair.

"My what?" Avalon blinked when she saw the female doctor coming back with electric pads in hand. "Why-why are you carrying those? What are you doing?" she frantically asked but the woman started attaching them to her skin without saying a word. Avalon's head craned to see Kovarian watching with satisfaction. "What are you going to do with me!?"

"Same thing we did to Melody. Of course with her, we didn't really use ECT. We just embedded the ideas from the start. I'm making the right adjustments to your conditioning."

"N-n-n-n-no! Get these off me right now!" Avalon resorted to pushing her wrists against the metal cuffs keeping her strapped in.

"Oh don't bother," Kovarian laughed and came up to Avalon. "We know very well about your strength - you get that from your mother - and we have accounted for everything. There is no getting out of this."

Avalon glared, her face scrunching slightly as her anger rose. "What are you going to do?" she flinched when the female doctor attached the last two pads to her temples.

"You seem to cling onto the Doctor more than anyone else, even your grandmother, so we need to change that. Dr. Lefevre here, will conduct the electric shocks at my order and by the time we're done here..." Kovarian came to lean very close to Avalon, allowing her to notice the light freckles on Kovarian's face, "After we're done here, you're going to associate the Doctor with pain."

Gulping came on instinct, but Avalon still endeavored to prove that she wouldn't be an easy victim. "I won't fall for it. I got news for you, lady, my brain's all messed up anyways. And you know what? The Doctor might hate me because of who I am but I won't ever hurt him. I'd rather die first."

Kovarian dramatically groaned as she straightened up and turned away from Avalon. "This idolizing him has got to stop! You don't understand the danger he's putting us in with his existence! But don't worry," she spun around back to Avalon, expressing as if Avalon had done something wrong that she could fix for her. "I see the truth and I'm going to help you see it too. Dr. Lefevre?"

Lefevre nodded again and walked out of the room. Avalon shut her eyes thinking the first wave of electric shocks was about to hit her but instead the screen projector came to life and the room's lights went off.

"Let's start," Kovarian smiled maniacally as she came to stand beside Avalon's chair.

~ 0 ~

1 Month and a week after Demons Run.

"No, more, no more, please," Avalon's voice was too strained to make a proper plead. Her body felt like soup. Yes, that was a feeling she thought wasn't possible until now. She felt like she was floating but couldn't really move her arms nor legs. They were the noodles.

"But this is only 2005 now," Kovarian promised but she had promised that last week when this first started.

"Don't you...get it?" Avalon struggled to breath normally. "If you keep...doing this...I won't m...make it."

"Oh don't worry, that's where your regenerative cycle comes in. If your body truly does expire then you'll just regenerate and we can continue where we left off!"

Avalon felt like she could cry there and then. Regeneration? She didn't even want to think about such a thing. Her body dying? Now that she knew she could, she wondered how the hell the Doctor could do that so easily and not get stuck on the fact he had to die to get a new body.

"I'm going to...die...and...I don't even know how...to survive," Avalon coughed aggressively but Kovarian didn't seem perturbed.

"Lefevre, next!" she gave the order for the screen to switch again.

The next series of pictures shown were the aftermath of a famous battle Avalon once heard of but never had the full details. Along with pictures, Kovarian had also included videos for better representation.

"Cybermen..." Avalon recognized the terrible metal robots marching down a street. "What...what is this?" her eyes widened when the screen switched to show her Daleks flying in the air.

"This is the Battle of Canary Wharf, one of the biggest slaughters of the human race," Kovarian explained, although her tone didn't exactly portray regret. She was angry as hell but it was directed at one man instead of the fact that people died "And who was at the center of it? The Doctor. Have you seen the list of the dead?"

"Have you?" Avalon challenged.

Kovarian knew what she was trying to do and smiled. "My anger is not misplaced. This battle was specifically tailored to the Doctor because it originated from Torchwood. I believe you're familiar with the organization? Queen Victoria was like me. She saw the true danger the Doctor posed for the humans. She created Torchwood as a means to put an end to the man. But in the end, he put an end to it. People died at the hands of the Daleks and Cybermen. His own companion was thrown into a different universe. And that set the course for an even bigger battle that threatened the very existence of the universes."

New tears filled Avalon's eyes as she was forced to see the catastrophic aftermath. Streets were in ruins. Cars had exploded into fire. Several buildings were either half or completely destroyed. But there were so many corpses on the ground. everywhere.

"You didn't know that, did you?" Kovarian watches the tears rolling down Avalon's face. The ginger said nothing, but there was a clear fear etching across her features. "Lefevre!" Kovarian gave a hard yell.

The electric pads sent a riveting shock through Avalon's body. She screamed and wailed for them to stop. Each shock was worse than the last. It was as of everything inside her was on fire and there was no putting it out until Kovarian took pity on her.

When it was over, Avalon's body went limp against her chair. Her eyes wanted to close but she fought to keep them at least half open.

"Pain," Kovarian repeated just as she did each time the shocks were done. "That is what the Doctor is. Pain, destruction, and we have to end him."

However she could, Avalon glared but her mouth was temporarily unavailable. Kovarian knew this. Each time the shocks were over, Avalon would grow weaker against it. She would either die or she would finally start succumbing to effects.

"This is for your own good, for all of us," Kovarian moved around the chair so that she stood in front of Avalon. "I've seen the future and do you know what? I don't think you should even try to defend him. From where I stand, he's already replaced you and your little family." While Avalon couldn't say anything then, she still glared again. "And you've seen it too," Kovarian turned enough to gesture at the screen that was still showing the last pictures of the Canary Wharf battle. "It's a known fact that each time the Doctor faces a big battle, he leaves the companions behind. The one in that battle got lost in another world, and then the next one? Lefevre!"

The screen suddenly switched to a dark-skinned woman wearing a formal UNIT uniform. Avalon squinted her eyes to try and focus on the name tag the woman was wearing.

"Dr. Martha Jones walked the Earth for a year that none of us can remember to fight yet another Time Lord the Doctor was responsible for. The human nearly got killed and guess what happened? The Doctor -" Kovarian's voice took on a hard tone as she looked back at Avalon, "-moved on. And that bit of the woman? Did you know that there was a year completely lost? The Doctor erased a whole year that was full of blood thanks to him and his little Time Lord friend. No one can remember it. Only the Silence could, of course. They're useful like that. Bet the Doctor didn't tell you that, did he?"

Avalon didn't want to look so stunned but...she couldn't help it. What did she mean there was a whole year that none of them can remember? There were no stories about that, not even of Martha Jones fighting in it. The Doctor didn't say a word about it.

"And then the 27 planets that were stolen?" Kovarian yelled for Lefevre to switch pictures. "Oh, there were so many deaths that night. I believe this is where the Doctor moved on from yet another companion after sincerely - how do you humans say it? - screwing her over. Wiped her memories, the whole thing!" she made a quick gesture to the sides of her head.

Avalon's eyes narrowed the moment she thought about Donna Noble. She deeply regretted throwing that in the Doctor's face. That had to be one of the most terrible things he was forced to do. "Accident..." she managed to say. In talking, she got the taste of metal...making her realize there was a bit of blood in her mouth.

Kovarian mocked her with a laugh. "Oh, of course. And do you even know why it was possible for the worlds to be moved? Because that little companion from 2005 was able to cross worlds. The Doctor created a companion so dangerous that she literally broke the walls of the universe. If that doesn't prove how dangerous he is, I don't know what will!"

"N-not his...fault!" Avalon spat and felt bits of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. It wasn't the Doctor's fault the choices his companions took.

"But it is," Kovarian turned right around to face Avalon. "The next one after that is you and your family. But guess what?" her face morphed into a mocking pout. "It won't last long either. Because I know for a fact that eventually the Doctor will move on from the Ponds. All of you." She made it pretty clear that really did mean everyone which, against her best efforts not to believe it, did sprinkle a bit of fear in Avalon.

Would the Doctor really move on from her too?

You did hurt him, she reminded herself. He has every right to drop you off too.

"And the next companion after you all is the one," Kovarian made sure to express her true hatred for whatever poor soul came next in line. "She's the one that brings the Doctor to the place where he will descend destruction on us."

"Then...kill...her," Avalon found herself saying. She didn't know who was meant to come into the TARDIS in the future but she didn't want the Doctor anywhere near a place that was meant to be a battle zone.

Kovarian feigned a sigh. "But she's a tricky one. I don't know the mechanics. Plus, if I kill her off then somebody else will inevitably bring the Doctor to that place. No, I have to go directly to the source, to the origin. Here. The Doctor has to die here, in this point of time."

Avalon swallowed hard when she got memories of Lake Silencio. But then she realized something...she couldn't remember everything. She started blinking fast the more she thought in vain. "I-I can't...I can't remember...Lake Silencio...what's-what's going on?"

There was a satisfied smirk playing on Kovarian's face. "Oh, the ECT is finally kicking in. The more we do this, the more fragile your brain becomes and once it's fragile enough we can start."

~ 0 ~

2 Months after Demon's Run

"STOP! JUST STOP!" Avalon screamed and wailed, her eyes screwing shut yet snapping open each second like a pattern. Her body twisted and writhed each time she felt a burning prick. "Please...just stop!" Her sobs echoed throughout the crystal clean room but none of the people inside would listen to her.

Two people held her body down, pinning her arms and legs against the metal table. When her skin made contact with the cool metal, she hissed. Her body was so susceptible to radical temperatures right now thanks to the series of tests Kovarian was running on her.

First, it'd been the insomnia test. They deprived Avalon of sleep for God knows what reason, but she was so tired. She'd always had trouble going to sleep but right now she would kill for an hour where she could just doze off. And once they figured out that Avalon could stay a minimum of four days awake, they moved onto to an expanded form of the test. Kovarian wouldn't settle for the simple 'let's see how long you can stay up', no. She would purposely change the temperature, leave Avalon in the dark and if Avalon dared to fall asleep, Kovarian would shock her. It was a piercing electricity that Avalon swore would make her body explode if the tests kept going.

And then they moved onto the injuries. How much could Avalon's body take?

They first started with simple cuts that Avalon would hiss and yell at them to stop. But things escalated. Cuts turned into full-fledged gashes where Avalon would physically want to pass out from how much blood she was losing. She swore that in one of those, somebody had actually touched her bones and organs.

Then Kovarian wanted to see what temperatures Avalon could withstand.

A blazing hot room was Avalon's home for a week. She had never craved water so much in her life. She did pass out a few times but then came the freezing cold. No matter how much she begged for them to stop or to at least give her a blanket, she was left in the ice cold room for another week. There were only intervals with regular temperature just so that she wouldn't die.

And now here she was for the latest test. Something about regeneration. The gashes would return and now they expected for her to heal herself but she didn't know how! How could she access energy that she didn't even know she carried!? And when she proved useless, Kovarian ordered for her people to carve into Avalon's body to examine that energy. One way or another, they would have that energy.

So there was Avalon, desperately crying for somebody to help her. Her right arm felt like it would fall off if she felt another burning cut. She turned her head to the left and blinked fast to get her sight cleared up. A woman was looking down at her behind a pair of glasses.

"Please...just stop...just...for a moment..." Avalon's voice was hoarse from all the screaming and the prior exams. "I...beg you..."

The woman paid her no attention. She just held Avalon's arm tightly and watched the exam continue.

Avalon honestly wished she was dead at this point. Nothing could be worse than what she was living. If she was lucky, they wouldn't find what they were looking for and they would just kill her.

~ 0 ~

2 Months after Demons Run

"Uh, no Dad, we...haven't found her yet," Lena wanted to speak as quietly as possible while talking to her father but it was impossible when she was forced to stay in the console with the Doctor's so very good hearing. She wanted to leave each time her father called to know their status on the search, but the Doctor wouldn't have it. He had made a promise to find Avalon and Melody and he wasn't living up to it.

It was like he was punishing himself by forcing himself to hear the disappointment in Lena's voice when she told her father that nothing changed. They were still completely lost.

With a sigh, Lena ended the call with her father. She didn't have to explain to the Doctor what it was about. "He just says he believes in you."

The Doctor let out a noise indicating his lack of faith in himself. He kept himself at the console, his fingers tiredly working through the controls.

"He knows you'll find her, though. He has no doubt about it," Lena kept insisting. "He says-" but she was interrupted by an alarm from the console. She was quick to react with wide eyes. "Is that-"

"-a clue!" the Doctor lunged for the side of the console that was giving off the alarm. He found new energy that sped him up through the process of discovering what the alarm was for.

"Well, what is it!?" Lena anxiously waited for him to say something.

"Don't know, it's...um, somebody's calling me from a Black Market in..." the Doctor leaned closer to the monitor, "It's a Black Market in the Black Eye Galaxy."

"The what now?" Lena blinked, but the Doctor didn't pay attention to her confusion. All he knew was that there was finally a possible clue of where Avalon was.

"Baby sister, you're gonna want to hang onto something! SAPLING!" his voice roared through the room. They had a new place to get to quick!

~ 0 ~

3 Months After Demon's Run

Three shots fired consecutively, each hitting of their intended targets.

Avalon swallowed roughly when she lowered her weapon and saw she'd gotten three more straight in a row. She blinked several times as she found she was unable to remember when she was ordered to fire. Her eyes swept over the room as if this were the first time she saw it.

It was huge and barely furnished. The only light coming through was from three small windows above. Avalon realized the room was underground, like a basement. Across of her were three dummies with bullets embedded mostly in the chest. She looked down at herself and could not for the life of her remember how she got into an oversized white blouse and skinny white pants. Even her hair was forced back into a messy low bun. Many of her curls - which were untamed and frizzy from lack of attention - were hanging around her face like curtains.

"How does this keep happening?" she whispered to herself, but she was never alone.

"Again," the Silence with her commanded.

Avalon swallowed hard and turned her head to the right where the ugly lone Silence stood. Her hand shakily moved up to her dry hair. "B-but I-I r-remember you. I can't rememb-b-ber a lot but I k-keep remembering you. How are you doing that?"

The Silence left a moment of silence pass by, as if it were actually constructing an explanation to Avalon's questions. Finally, it cocked its head to the side and answered, "Shoot again."

"No!" Avalon took aim on the Silence again, albeit her shaky arms didn't exactly cause fear. Half the time she didn't know if what she was seeing was a hallucination from everything she'd gone through, or if things really were as bad as they were.

"Oh put the weapon down, child," Kovarian ordered as she appeared in the room. "You do this every time." She was not phased when Avalon turned the gun on her. "As you do that."

"I don't understand, I-I remember things but it's in pieces," Avalon's hand curled tightly around the gun. "My b-bbrain...it hurts..." she brought her free hand to her massive curls and pulled on them in frustration. "Everything's all jumbled up..." her voice cracked in the end, confirming she was truly all over the place. She was losing control over her own thoughts. Her body would jerk suddenly, very often, thanks to the electric shocks. Her skin was dry, making it so easy to get cuts and bruises. And it showed.

Kovarian was proud of her newest experiment. It was working marvelously. It was easier to push Avalon and to control her. Now she wanted to give Avalon the ultimate test, the test that would prove if they'd successfully conditioned her.

"We're going out on a little trip," she announced, not that Avalon seemed to be paying attention. The woman had retreated a few steps and was mumbling words to herself, a nursery rhyme. "Yoo hoo! Anybody home?" Kovarian laughed at her own joke. "Bring her along," she ordered the Silence and turned to leave.

~0~

Avalon wouldn't recognize where they brought her, nor would she know how to get out. The entire place was covered in taverns. It seemed like was night underneath. Everybody looked suspicious, but everyone seemed to fear them - not her but the woman with her - and didn't want anything to do with them.

"You walk far too slow," Kovarian remarked as she studied every movement of Avalon's. Her walking would definitely have to improve. It looked like Avalon was dragging her feet. "And you're not examining your parameters. An enemy can easily take you down right now."

"T-tired..." Avalon said, too weary to say much more. "Why...am I-I here?"

"Because I want you to walk to the end of this line and back," Kovarian responded and a few seconds later came to a stop.

"What?" Avalon thought her hearing might be going too.

"Walk till the end of this aisle and back," Kovarian repeated. "Simple task."

"But why-" Avalon was cut off midsentence when Kovarian pulled out a gun on her.

"I don't explain my orders, child. I give the command and you follow them," she said with a dark tone that had started to seed fear in Avalon. She'd already gotten a taste of it with the ECT.

Avalon closed her eyes. She didn't want to remember that horrible week. She could still feel the electric shocks making her body tremble, and usually her body would shake and jerk. She just wanted it all to stop.

"Go! Before I shoot you and we both find out how strong your regenerative cycle is." Kovarian motioned with her gun for Avalon to start talking.

Avalon lowered her head and turned in the direction she'd been pointed to. In another moment, she would have probably been ecstatic to visit a real life Black Market. This is the place where all of the fun toys were at. But right now, anyone there could easily kill her with a lift of a finger. She couldn't fight anymore, she couldn't snap anymore, she couldn't think properly. She was just so tired, so incredibly tired, both physically and mentally. It was honestly sad how easily she broke. All those times where she thought she was strong was just a lie. She was weak.

Her feet started taking small steps forwards. At the very least if she walked away she would get a few minutes away from Kovarian and the Silence. That sounded nice.

But you'll have to go back, she reminded herself. It returned the fear in seconds.

She would have to go back, back to the torture, back to the nonstop 'training'. She didn't know how much more she could take, honestly. If she didn't die from exhaustion, she might just go crazy from all the memory blocks. If she was being honest, she didn't even remember what she did yesterday. For all she knew, she might have seen the Doctor yesterday.

Her feet came to an automatic stop. Would she forget something like that? Her hand found the Doctor's watch on her wrist, the very same watch she'd won in a bet a year ago. The Doctor swore she had cheated but he still gave up his favorite watch. She knew that if he wanted to, he would've just taken it back or never really had given it up in the first place, but he never did. He allowed her to keep it.

Now maybe you can give it back, came a pondering thought. Her eyes widened for a second as a genuine idea came to mind. It was probably the only coherent thought she'd had in a while. She looked over her shoulder and could barely see Kovarian which meant that Kovarian could barely see her.

Do it, the voice told her.

Avalon found the farthest stall in the aisle and dashed for it. It was an odd run, really, as it seemed like a combination of a hobble and a sprint. Her feet were a bit funny lately, but if she did things right she might finally get some rest (and the good kind not the dead type).

"What do you want?" barked the man in charge of the stall. He seemed human enough until Avalon realized he was a slimy green with spikes sticking up from his head. That probably made for some interesting business.

"I-I-I have..." Avalon involuntarily lost her voice for a second. All her words were trying to come out at the same time.

"I don't understand! Are you going to buy something!?" the man snapped.

Avalon quickly nodded her head. "Y-you're about to have the business deal of your life. You know the Doctor?" It was a stupid question given the man's reputation.

The man sneered. "That idiot who takes it upon himself to say what's right or wrong?"

"That's the one! Y-y-you want to owe him a favor?"

The man, despite his obvious dislike for the Doctor, arched a slightly thicker green eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you g-g-give him th-this..." Avalon couldn't seem to get the watch off her as fast as possible, "You'll b-be doing him a huge f-favor and you'll h-have one of the most powerful p-people owing you one."

The man scrutinized the watch in her hand with obvious distrust. "Over a simple watch? You trying to have me?"

"I-I swear I'm n-not. This is h-his watch and I'm s-s-someone he's looking for. A-Avalon Reynolds. Tell him that n-name and y-you'll see how fast he comes." She was truly counting on it. At least one more time.

"And if not?"

"Then you just got yourself a nice watch you can probably tweak to hide something you don't want others to see." Avalon tried her best not to seen as nervous as she truly was. This could work only if the man followed through and if Kovarian didn't catch her.

"What did you say your name was?" the man was eyeing her appearance, as if committing her to memory.

She looked like an outright mess. Her clothes were disheveled. Her skin was poorly kept and the chapped cracks were beginning to show. She had a few bruises along her arms, decorating the healing stitches that looked pretty fresh. Every so often she would shake, just like her shaky voice and stuttering words. Her eyes had bangs under them, ugly purple bags. Her hair was in a low pony tail, but most of her curls were popping out in various directions. And the constant stammering was plain annoying.

"U-um, Avalon..." Avalon brought a hand up to scratch her cheek. She seemed like she would close her eyes to think about something, but once again her body jerked and she dropped her arms to her side.

"Wait a second," the man suddenly blinked as if he'd just realized something. "The Doctor was said to be collecting debts for a battle. He took several of my customers away. You're with the Silence, aren't you? The Kovarian chapter? I heard all about that. They took that baby. Pretty stupid if you asked me, picking a fight with him. But hey..." the man seemed to be making the connections based on Avalon's teary face. "Oh, you couldn't be...?"

Avalon's eyes filled with tears in that one second. "P-please," she resorted to begging. "D-Don't tell anyone a-a-anything. Just...just get the Doctor. If I g-get out, he'll owe y-you s-s-something."

"Really?" the man raised an eyebrow as he watched Avalon hold the watch. Her hand was trembling to the point of nearly dropping the watch. He was no idiot. She was scared out of her mind and with good reason. He had heard all about the stupid woman who decided to kidnap one of the Doctor's companions, along with their child, and now he had the glorious opportunity to force the Doctor's hand?

That was simply too good of a deal to pass up.

He snatched the watch off Avalon's hand, noticing the woman flinch in the process, and bared his yellow pointy teeth at her. "You got a deal."

Avalon was in disbelief that it actually worked. "R-really?"

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to see the Doctor's face when I force his hand," he eyed the watch now in his possession with newfound fondness. He knew the power he held.

Avalon swallowed hard. How mad would the Doctor be once he learned that she basically let someone borrow him? Hopefully he'd still help her in the end. "C-c-can I...leave a-a m-messsage?" she made a gesture as if she was writing something in the air.

"Oh alright," the man rolled his eyes and retrieved a scrap of paper and pen. However she could, she scribbled a quick message - though from where the man stood, it didn't seem like a message. It was more chicken scratch than anything. She could barely hold the pen as it was.

"Could you...b-break...break..." Avalon tapped the glass of the watch. Her strength wasn't for that anymore. The man once again rolled his eyes and shattered the glass of the clock. Avalon quickly took the watch into her hands and pushed in the crumpled paper inside. "Th-there..."

The man snatched the watch before she could say goodbye to it. It was the last piece of the Doctor she had, so she really hoped giving it away would be worth it. Otherwise, she'd just be completely alone now.

"Now scram!" the man roared and laughed when Avalon turned to run away. She truly was a scared little thing.

When Avalon made it back to Kovarian, she was exhausted. It was a struggle to catch her breath, as if she'd ran a whole marathon.

But Kovarian just smiled upon her work. From her perspective, Avalon had passed the test. She'd given Avalon the opportunity to run away, but she didn't. She came right back just like she was ordered to.

The conditioning was well on its way.

~0~

The TARDIS landed right where the signal had come through, not a minute too late. She was just as motivated to find Avalon and Melody as everyone else. After all, the two women were a part of her too.

"You're sure we're not late or anything?" Lena questioned while the Doctor did a quick surveillance on the monitor of the Black Market they were in.

"Of course. The TARDIS knows the danger Ava and Melody are in. She wants them back as much as we do, don't you old girl?" the TARDIS gave an affirmative hum. The Doctor continued to work until a new thought crossed his mind. "You know, I guess I now understand why you always liked Avalon so much."

Lena smiled when the TARDIS seemed to hum another 'yes'.

"You know she chose Avalon straightaway?" the Doctor glanced at Lena, feigning a pout. "First night your sister stepped in, the TARDIS was willing to let Ava take her for a ride." Lena laughed when the TARDIS hummed what could only be an 'of course'.

"Are we there now!?" the Sapling came running down the stairs. "Is Mother here!?"

"Ah, not yet sure," the Doctor said once he got back to work. For the most part, the market just seemed to be like any other market.

"So, what was the signal you got?" Lena inched closer to his side to catch whatever was on the monitor.

"Somebody's trying to send a message," the Doctor mumbled as he worked to decipher that precise message. "Psychic connection, you see. Trying to send it through the TARDIS. Ah! Here we are!"

The screen turned black for a moment. Particles were arranging to form letters.

'Avalon Reynolds. Watch.'

That certainly got the trio silent.

"Who sent that, big brother?" Lena found her voice a few minutes later.

"I-I don't know exactly," the Doctor dove to the keyboard to figure that out. His fingers wouldn't work fast enough for him. "S-somebody wanted to get my attention though because they sent it directly to me."

"Then we should go!" the Sapling darted for the doors when the Doctor ordered him to stop. "But why?"

"Because that is a Black Market and you are a child. I don't know who sent that message but they wanted me here," the Doctor strode towards the doors, making sure to usher the Sapling in the opposite direction. "Lena, survey the entire Market for any trace of Avalon."

"On it," Lena nodded. "But what are you gonna do? What if it's a trap?"

"Then at least you and the Sapling will be here to call for back up. River Song's on the dialing list!"

"I'm sure she is," Lena chuckled as she took position by the console.

The Doctor turned for the doors and straightened his jacket. "Let's do this." He pushed the doors open and walked out.

He started down the long aisle of stalls, making sure to scour each stall for any red hair or eye patch. If Avalon was here, he was not leaving without her. And if this was a trick, then pity the fool who was behind it. He was in no mood for jokes and the entire galaxies knew it.

Eventually, he found an icky, slimy green man giving him a funny eye. The Doctor first made sure that the green man was actually looking at him before walking over to his stall. "You wouldn't happen to know if anyone around sent a psychic message to say, oh, a blue box?"

The green man made no attempt to hide his glee. "That'd be me. Doctor, I presume?" the Doctor gave a brief nod, now eyeing the man up and down. "Your different than the appearance description I had of you. Course that was years ago."

"You sent the message?"

"Why yes I did." The man suddenly raised the Doctor's old watch in the air and had a good laugh pulling it away after the Doctor lunged for it. "So it's true then. It is yours and you are very determined to get it back."

The Doctor glowered at the man who's chest practically rumbled with laughter. "You have 10 seconds to tell me where you got that from."

"Oh no, no," the man waved a finger, showing off a bright yellow nail that matched the yellow shade of his teeth. "This is valuable. And don't deny it because I know it."

"Where'd you get it from?" the Doctor's tone was dangerously low.

The man smirked proudly. "Some girl gave it to me. Promised me it was valuable and what do you know? She's right."

"What. Girl?"

"Oh, you want to know what she looked like?" the man lowered the watch for a moment as he pretended to think about it, or as if he had to remember. "Well, to be honest with yah, she wasn't looking all that good. Skin looked ready to crack. She's human, ain't she? That's how humans get when they're, uh, what do you call it? Dehydrated? Or no, wait, dry? I don't remember-"

The Doctor lost it and yanked the man over the counter by his slimy green collars. "You have exactly 0.5 seconds to tell me where the hell you got the watch from."

"Or what? I know your stories, you don't do weapons," the man grinned far too confident.

"Let me put it to you straight: the girl I'm looking for is somebody I will do anything for. I'll throw you into a blackhole right now if you don't start telling me the story. And if you think you just got me to deal with? You got another thing coming. You know River Song?"

The man snorted with heavy distaste. "Blasted woman destroyed my stock in the Celeste Black Market."

"The girl is her daughter. You really want to have me and her on your bad list?" the Doctor wasn't comfortable using that truth for his gain but River told him use anything as his disposal to find Avalon. He would apologize for that later. It'd gotten him some information beforehand so it was definitely useful.

"You're kidding," the man laughed. "That girl is her daughter? Well, I guess that's probably where she got her bargaining her skills from. Sneaky little thing."

The Doctor unceremoniously shook the man. "You get River Song as a treat for being extra disgusting. She takes care of your Black Market stocks and I-" he pulled the man slightly closer to his face, "-will take care of you, personally." There was a sweet, dark smile spreading across his face that promised true horrors.

The man had the good sense to gulp. "F-fine! The girl said her name was Avalon Reynolds. Said if I gave you the watch you would owe me a favor. Some friend you got there, bargaining you off for her own personal gain."

The Doctor let the man go without warning - ignoring the slump noise when the man fell over the counter - and took his watch. He inspected it for any other clue Avalon might have left behind for him. He didn't have to look much since the very first thing he saw was the missing glass. There was a small paper crumpled inside.

"Left that for yah," the man muttered once he'd gotten himself off the counter. "She could barely write, though. Kept shaking and one of her fingers had cuts on them."

The Doctor tried not to picture that image. How scared must she be? I need to be faster. He unfolded the paper and quickly read the few lines Avalon had written.

Brainwashing me. I don't know how long I can keep my sanity, literally.

They keep moving me. It's always in dark places.

Melody's on Earth somewhere. They took her away from me 3 months ago.

I'm sorry.

Three months ago. The Doctor found it incredibly hard to stay on his feet right then. It'd been 3 months for Avalon. Three months that she'd spent with Kovarian under God knew what tortures. His hand gripped the watch tightly between his fingers.

"This is all she left behind?" he scrutinized the man for any clue that he might be holding back.

"Yeah. She didn't look like she could say much more; looked very sick. But you owe me, Doctor. That was the deal the girl promised me. I gave you what she wanted."

"Yeah, except you didn't hold her here," the Doctor stuffed the watch and the paper in his jacket's inside pocket. "Then I would've owed you something."

The man was outraged he'd been lied to. "You can't do that! If you don't uphold the end of the bargain I'll-"

"No, you really won't," the Doctor pulled out his sonic and aimed it at the shelves holding jars of glowing liquids. When the sonic was activated, each of the jars exploded like dominoes. The man screamed at the sight of his ruined products but the Doctor didn't flinch with either noise. He only watched as each jar shattered and splattered the stall. "Use this a message to everyone else: if they see Kovarian, the Silence, or Avalon Reynolds, they better call me or I'll come for them and destroy everything that's precious to them. That's a Time Lord's promise." He took off and allowed himself to relish in the man's suffering just for a bit. Or maybe for a long moment. Because if word got out that he would make anyone suffer should they not follow his instructions, he could get Avalon back quicker. And besides, anyone who hurt Avalon deserved to be terrified and to suffer in pain.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 65

WARNING: SMU. NSFW. ASS stuff. You’ve been warned.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

She wakes to warm, soft breath on the back of her neck and a bulky, muscular arm wrapped securely around her. Some time in the very early morning hours he must have stirred; long enough to move onto his side and tightly tuck himself behind her. She’s missed this; the weight of his much heavier and stronger body pressed against her and those big, powerful arms with their scars and tattoos gracing smooth, tanned skin. The way she can feel his heartbeat against her back and each exhale of breath that tickles her shoulders and neck and flutters her hair. And his smell. It’s crisp and clean and reminds her of home; of the scent of the ocean and the fresh air that surrounds them. There’s nothing extraordinary or unique about it, but it’s HIM. It’s familiar and it’s comforting; clinging to his hair and his skin and his clothes. And it’s able to soothe her even on the roughest of days .  Even when he’s away on a job and she’s in the midst of her most stressful and loneliest  of moments it calms her; able to pull on one his shirts or sweater and bury her face in the fabric. Event the smallest of him able to queel the ache in her chest and those tears of panic and worry.

It’s there now. That smell. Lingering on his skin like a warm, comforting blanket. It’s been almost seven years and that scent has never changed and she never wants it to. It’s part of him. It IS him. And to her there’s no greater smell in the entire world. And he often laughs or rolls his eyes about it; amused when she continually buys that same shampoo and body wash and refuses to change the laundry soap. She doesn’t want it to be different. His smell is the one true constant, the one thing that’s always held firm and true even during his routine absences while  in the game or even during their six month separation. His scent has always been around, even when he hasn’t. The thought of it one day evaporating is always too much to bear. Because if it’s gone...permanently gone...that means he is too. And there’s no thought that’s more terrifying or heartbreaking than that.

She wriggles closer to him; firmly pressing her back into his front and turning her face into the arm that is stretched out along her pillow. When they’d first met, there’d be no ink gracing the inside of his inner right bicep; just a handful of scars -some long jagged, some short and smooth- and a smattering of freckles. Now there’s two tattoos; the number of steps he’d taken on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and each of the kids’ initials and dates of birth; Addie being added only two days after she was born. She  rests her cheek against his arm; relaxed and at rest, yet the muscle still hard and bulging under the skin. She hates the sight of the bruises; the damage caused by his assailant trying to pin him down by using his knees. They’re huge and fresh; deep purple and black and looking so painful.  And she squeezes her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears that threaten; that powerful realization of just how close she’d come to losing such an enormous component of her life. She tries not to think about it. About how terrifying it all must have been for him. Things going so wrong, so quick. From being prepared to carry out what should have been a   simple job -four people, four bullets- to fighting for his life.

He’s been there before; on that bridge in Dhaka and during those hours of surgery and the week following when he was still in grave danger and all the doctors were telling her that he would be better off if he DID die. That there was no proof he’d ever regain consciousness or even breath on his own once he was brought out of the medically induced coma and weaned off the ventilator. That if things were successful and his body was strong enough to support itself, he’d likely have long term, life altering complication; side effects from lack of oxygen to the brain when he’d coded twice on the operating table. Outside of those five days in that dirty hotel room and the hours they’d spent on the streets running for their lives, she hadn’t really known him. Yet the thought of him dying had been terrifying. It had been heartbreaking; the thought of NOT getting the chance to spend time with him and get to know him and dig through the lawyers of bravado mixed with hurt and grief and guilt. She’d wanted to know the real Tyler Rake. Not the hardened mercenary with years of baggage weighing him down and the distrust and the regret that darkened his eyes. Who he was before life had jaded him; before he’d built all those walls up around him.  

But now...after seven years and having a life together and bringing five babies into the world...it’s overwhelming. Unable to stand the thought of him not being around. Not hearing his voice again or seeing his smile. Not tasting his kiss or feeling those callused hands on her body,  or those strong, thick arms wrapping around her.   The way his face softens when his children call him daddy and all those expressions that do far more speaking than any actual words do.

He moves against her. Lips pressing against the nape of her neck and his hand sliding down to her stomach; resting firmly. And she can’t help but smile at that simple yet loving gesture. He’s already fiercely protective when there isn’t a baby on the way; when there is, he kicks it up a notch. Several notches, in fact. But it’s more than that. More than wanting and needing to keep her and the baby safe. It’s how soft and sweet he becomes; how even his voice and his eyes change.  He’s always been that way; since they’d found out about Millie all those years ago and he’d put those big, strong hands on her ever growing baby bump and get the most satisfied, proud look on his face. In awe at the thought of there being a little human in there. That he’d help create a life when he’d been so close to his ending.

She turns her face into the arm across her pillow; pressing a kiss to the inside of his bicep, followed by the crook of his elbow. Then lays her palm against his and laces their fingers together.

“You okay?” Tyler’s voice is groggy from sleep, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Mm-hm. I wonder what time it is.”

“Must be pretty early; kids aren’t up yet. Why are you even awake?”

“I woke up feeling nauseous. But it’s gone away already. Why are you up?”

“Why do you think?” A chuckle reverberates against his back as he places a kiss to her shoulder.

“You know…” Esme giggles. “...the morning you don’t wake up that way is the morning I really worry about you. You’re going to be eighty and STILL waking up like that.”

“The day I stop waking up like this is the day you’re allowed to kill me. Do you want me to put that in writing?”

“Don’t be a whiner. Besides, when you’re sixty five, I’m going to start crushing viagra and hiding it in your food.”

“I WILL put a gun in my mouth if I ever need that shit.”

She laughs. “And you wonder where Millie gets her dramatic from?”  She lays her hand over top the room he has resting on her stomach, then gives a long, content sigh when she feels him nuzzle the back of her neck with the tip of his nose. “You’re so warm. I missed this. Being like this with you. Just how warm and cozy and safe you make me feel. And your arms; I definitely missed being in your arms,”

“I definitely missed you being in them, that’s for sure. I missed a lot of things.”

“Yeah, you made that VERY obvious last night. The inside of my thighs have the bite marks and hickies to prove it.”

He grins against the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

“Bullshit. You’re not sorry at all.”

“And it’s not just THAT that I missed. Although that was pretty fucking amazing. It’s everything. It’s you. It’s everything about you.”

“You know, regardless of what you say and how much you hate hearing it, you have these moments where you’re just so soft and so sweet. And I’m lucky because you’re only like that with me. I’m the only that gets to this side of you. Everyone gets the OTHER you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that you. I just prefer THIS you sometimes.”

“Only for you, baby. Only you.”

“Did you sleep okay? Once you managed to get back?”

“Those meds you gave me knocked me the fuck out.”

“Hydromorph. I asked Anil’s doctor to give you something powerful like Oxy but not Oxy itself. It’s the strongest possible without having you admitted and put on some kind of drop. Just be careful, okay? They can be really addictive and the last thing you need is another drug you can’t kick.”

“Esme, I know you worry about me, and I love you so much for that, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to be THAT guy again. You don’t have to  worry about that, alright? That’s the last thing you have to worry about.”

“Listen, after seven years, you think you’d realize that despite telling me not to worry, I’m still going to worry.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about THAT.” He uses the tip of his nose to move her hair away from her neck and shoulder, then presses a series or feathery kisses to both.  

“You know…” she says, as she squeezes his hand that rests on her stomach. “...there’s not going to be anything to feel for a while.”

“Doesn’t matter.  There’s still a baby in there, yeah? How far along do you think?”

“Probably no farther than five or six weeks.”

“Just a little bean.”

She looks over her shoulder at him. . “Baby, you’re adorable”

He grins and places a kiss on her temple. “Shut up.”

“You are. You ARE adorable. It’s okay to be adorable, honey. You’re not less of a bad ass because of it. I know how tough you are. I know what you’re capable of. And I like that you can still be cute too. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you. One of the many things. Even in Dhaka. After we’d...you know…”

“Fuck?”

“To put it that way, yeah. Even then we’d talk and you’d tease me and say the cutest shit. That was when you'd let your guard down; when we’d lie there and talk. And you’d let me get a peek at what you were really like. What your HEART was like. Even then you were comfortable enough to be that way with me,”

“You’re the only I ever have been that way with.”

“Not even with your ex wife?”

“Not even with her.”

“Not even with your hoes in other places?”

“I didn’t have to talk much with them.”

“You’re making me feel all special and shit. That I’m the only one that’s ever made you made you feel that comfy.”

“You SHOULD feel special. Because it’s trust; even in Dhaka you managed. I don’t know it was like that, Whether it was just the way you are or you just fucked me so hard I lost all coherent thought and couldn’t function properly.”

“I must still be fucking you pretty hard because you’ve never regained coherent thought or proper function,” Esme teases.

Tyler grins, then presses a kiss to her ear. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I know. I’m horribly mean to you. I’m a terrible wife. I have no idea why you stick around.”

“Well, you give really good head. And you let me do things to your ass, so…”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs, then turns her face into his and pecks his lips. “I don’t know how I put up with you. But I do. For some reason.”

“I can think of a couple.”

“A couple of non sexual things?”

He frowns. “Okay, that’s harder. I’m sure there’s a few things I do that keep you around. I mean, I get shit off the high shelves for you. And I’m the one that fishes the wayward socks out of the bottom of the washer.”

“You clean the bathrooms and take the garbage out,” she says. “And you get rid of the spiders and the snakes. All the important shit, basically. And you look damn good with your shirt off. Trust me, that helps.”

“See? I’m useful.”

“Very.” She speaks between kisses to his lupus. “You’re very useful. And you’re very adept at making babies. A little too adept at it, actually.”

“Got the snip and I STILL put one in you.”

She looks over her shoulder, staring at him pointedly.

“What?”

“I know what you’re going to say next. And I’m warning you right now, Tyler James. Don’t say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. And I can see those wheels turning in your head and I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue.”

“Baby,  I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” she grumbles, but pecks his lips and then turns around once more; closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his bicep as it rests beside her head.

“It’s all the proof I need that I have super sperm.”

“Goddamnit!” She huffs and he chuckles against her shoulder. “I hate you so much sometimes.  I mean, not really. I just hate when you say that. It drives me fucking insane.”

“Why do you think I say? I say it because I know it bothers you.”

“You’re evil,” she declares, then promptly bursts into a fit of exhaustion induced giggles. Which in turn makes him laugh even harder.   “I love you,” she says. “I really do. So much. Everything about you.”

“I love you, too. Even when you’re a raging bitch and you say you hate me.”

“I was joking. I could never hate you. Ever.”

“Not even during those six months?”

“Not even then. I didn’t hate you. Tyler.  I hate what was happening to you. To US. I didn’t like you very much and I was angry with you. But  I didn’t hate you. I never could. I love you way too much. Did you ever hate me?”

“No. Not even for a single second. Was I pissed? Yeah. Was I hurt? Absolutely. But I was also drunk a lot and taking a lot of meds so I wasn’t exactly thinking right, was I? Had I not been that fucked up, I wouldn’t have been angry and I wouldn’t have blamed you for kicking my ass out. I would have realized I deserve it. That I was  a fucking dick.”

“I’m not just talking about that. About kicking you out. I’m talking about what almost happened AFTER I did.”

“Baby…” he presses his lips against her cheek. “...that’s a long time ago.”

“Three and a half years is NOT a long time.”

“It is. Because that was a different life. A different time. And we got past it. All of it. So it WAS a long time ago.”

“I wanted to hurt you.” her voice quivers with emotion. “How horrible is that? That I actually wanted to hurt someone that I love more than anything or anyone else in the entire fucking world? How horrible am I?”

“Stop,” he gently orders, and tightens his hold on both her hands. “Just stop. It was a bad fucking time. I was messed up and I did shitty things and I said shitty things. I hurt you first. I’m definitely not innocent and it was definitely my fault things went so bad.”

“I was just so hurt and I wanted you to hurt too,” she continues. “You broke my heart, Tyler. You put them before us. Before your kids. And then the drinking and the meds and it was tearing us apart and ruining our family and you didn’t seem to give a shit. And that hurt. So I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Esme...stop…” He lifts his head from the pillows and kisses the corner of his mouth. “...I’m pretty sure this is your hormones doing this.”

“I’m sorry. That I wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“I would have deserved it.”

“No. You wouldn’t have. Not that. Definitely not THAT.”

“Well, It didn’t happen. So…”

“But it would have. If I didn’t smarten the fuck up right BEFORE it did.”

“But it didn’t. And you know what? Even if it did? We would have gotten past that too. So don’t do this, okay? None of that matters anymore. You’re working yourself up for nothing. I know you always go a little crazy when you’re pregnant, but..”

“I love you. So much. And I hate myself for almost doing that to you.”

“Well you didn't. And if you had, you had your reasons. Pretty damn good ones. But it’s all behind us and none of that shit matters anymore. And I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever someone. So please…” he presses a kiss to her temple.  “...calm down, yeah? The baby needs you calm. Remember what the doctor said every other time ? About being calm and avoiding stress?”

“I’m married to a mercenary. How am I supposed to avoid stress?”

“The doctor doesn’t exactly know what I do for a living,” Tyler reminds her.

“He thinks you’re ex-military. Which isn’t exactly a life. You ARE. But I can’t tell him you’re a mercenary. You know how fast child protective services will be on our doorstep? And they won’t care what you’re like when you’re at home or happy the kids are. They’ll take them just based on your job alone.”

“I think you’re getting worked up over shit that you don’t need to worry about. So do me a favor and calm the fuck down. The shit your brain comes up with, I swear. I don’t know where it comes up with it or how, but fuck…”

“It’s definitely hormones.”

“You think? Shit.”

“Only time I was THIS hormonal this early was with the twins.”

“Jesus Christ,” he scowls. “Don’t say that. Please don’t.”

“What’s the chances, do you think? On another set? Two sets of twins in one family?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to think about it. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of one. Don’t put the ‘t word’ out into the universe.”

She laughs at that. “You’ve been talking to Andy too much. That’s his thing. About how if you put something out into the universe, it actually happens.”

“He’s a good shit. Good guy to talk to.”

“I like that you have a friend. A NORMAL friend.”

“As opposed to…”

“Homicidal mercenaries.  Andy’s about as far from that as it gets. I just like the idea of having a friend period. Someone that you can hang out with and talk to.”

“I hang out with you,” Tyler points out. “I talk to you.”

“I’m your wife.”

“You’re also my best friend.”

“Someone OTHER than me. You need that. A buddy. Someone can bitch about me with.”

“I bitch about you to your face. I don’t need a friend to bitch about you, trust me.”

She snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker. So romantic,”

“I saw the talking for dirtier times.”

Esme laughs. “Yes. You do. That’s when you do your BEST talking.”

“Yep,” he agrees. “And speaking of dirtier times…”  the hand that was on her stomach slides up the front of his t-shirt and down the front of her sleep shorts.

She sighs dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”

“No. I’m horny.”

“So am I,” she admits.

“Yeah? Want me to do something about it?”

“I do, actually.”  She rolls over onto her side to face him. “I DO want you to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know…” she reaches up and pushes his hair off his forehead. “...I want you to be all bossy and aggressive and just pin me down and fuck me senseless.”

He grins broadly. “That’s the spirit.”

“I don’t know your body will let you though. You’re pretty hurting.”

“How about you let my body decide for itself and prove you wrong.”

“It has before. Many times. So what do you  say?” She kisses his lips; drawing his bottom one between her teeth just as she tightly grips his cock through his boxer briefs. “Think you’re up to it?”

“I’m almost FULLY up to it.”

“Maybe YOU need some help.” Her fingertips graze against the skin just above the waistband of his shorts, then slide down the front of them,  A satisfied, almost proud smirk playing on her lips when the simple brush of her palm causing his eyes to darken and a groan to rumble on his throat; hips jerking against her. “Very impressive, Tyler,” she says, and then grasps his hardening cock and swipes the pad of her thumb over the tip. “...I think you should put that to good use.”

“Oh I will. But I wanna do something first.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He grins, then roughly shoves her onto her back.

“I love when you get all aggressive and shit,” Esme declares, lifting her hips off the bed when he yanks her shorts down, enabling him to easily slide them over her ass. “It’s my favorite you. My favorite ‘sex you’ anyway.”

“Yeah, I found that out early. That first time in Dhaka. Didn’t take long to discover that.”

“You liked it. You liked that I let you be in charge and manhandle me.”

“I still do. So do me a favor. Don’t talk. Just lie there and let me eat you out.”

She grins. “You’re bossy.”

“I just know what I want.”

He shoves her legs open; hand tightly gripping the backs of her thighs. Wasting no time as his mouth latches onto her pussy; pulling her clit between his lips and roughly suckling before pushing his tongue deep inside. Hands kneading and squeezing her thighs and then her ass as his tongue moves inside of her. Aggressively fucking her with with it until she’s squirming beneath him and lewd, pleasured noises spill from her mouth and her own hands slide up the front of her shirt. It’s a beautiful sight; eyes fixated on her as her hands firmly cup and massage her breasts and  her fingers toy with her nipples; twisting and pulling and plucking at them.  Her own eyes closed and her cheeks flushed and her entire body drawn impossibly tight. Crying out when his tongue slips from inside of her and concentrates on her clit; long, slow laps and then intricate circles made with the tip.  His pace methodical and patient and nothing short of torture.

“More…” she pleads, as one hand reaches down to grasp at his hair and her hips lift from the bed; pressing her dripping pussy against his mouth. “...I need more.”

The movements of his mouth become. He’d long ago learned exactly what she likes, wants, and needs. Just how to move his tongue and how firmly to press it against the most sensitive spots; just how hard he can suck and how rough his teeth can bite down. It’s a turn on; her taste, her smell, the shuddering of her body and the sounds she’s making and the way she brings her hips up and fucks herself against his face.  And his hands abandon her thighs; one moving between her legs as two fingers delve into her as far as they can do; turning his palm upwards so the tips of those digits can find and manipulate her g-spot. Never halting the movements of his lips and tongue; devouring her as if he’s a man condemned and he’s been given his very last meal. The fingers of his other hand push their way past her ass cheeks; the tips brushing against that tight, puckered hole.

“Don’t stop…” she begs. “...don’t stop...please...Tyler...don’t stop…”

Both his fingers and mouth become rougher. Greedy. And when he feels her lock up in places he never thought someone could lock up, he presses against the spot deep inside of her just as two fingers push their way into their ass; all the way to the third knuckle. That’s when her orgasm hits; entire body tensing and one hand still pulling at her nipples while a forearm covers her mouth in order to muffle that scream that erupts from it. Yet he doesn’t stop; continuing the licking and the sucking and the fingering -of both holes- until she comes again; even more powerful than the first.

He gives her little time to recuperate; hands on her hips and fingers digging into the flesh as he flips her over onto her stomach. A palm coming to rest on the small of her back when she attempts to push herself up onto her knees.

“Down,” he orders. “On your stomach.”

He uses his thighs to push hers open; knees holding them exactly where he wants them. Reaching around to grasp her lightly be the throat; a wrapping around his cock as he briefly rubs the engorged, weeping tip against her pussy before pushing into her ass instead.

“Fuck!” She cries out.  “Tyler...fuck…”

“Is that ‘keep going’ or a ‘stop’?” He inquires. “Tell me what you want. You want me to stop?”

She shakes her head. “No...it’s okay...I think. It just hurts.”

“I can’t stop. I’m not going to force anything on you. You know that.”

“No. It’s okay.  I’m fine. Just be careful. Please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

She nods.

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not okay with this…”

“I’m okay,” she assures her. “I’m just...you’re...well you’re just really big.”

He grins. “Thanks.”

She manages a laugh. “And it’s uncomfortable but I don’t want you to stop at the same time. I’m not making any sense right now, I know. I just...I don’t know...don’t break me in half or anything like that.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “I’m not THAT good.”

“Yeah, you are, actually. Fuck…”  her eyes squeeze shut when he pulls out completely. “...why’d you do that? I said I was fine.”

“I know.  Just try and relax some more. It’s only going to hurt more than it should if you don’t relax.”  He reaches between her legs to gather up some of that warm, slick fluid and then uses it to lubricate his cock. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe and just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll be gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, then buries her face in the sheets below when he presses into her once again; slower than before, giving her ample chance to adjust to him. A hand still wrapped around her throat; sweat beading across his brow and dripping down his temples. A low, feral growl escaping him when he buries himself completely.

“You alright?”  He leans down to press kisses along her spine. “You good?”

“I’m okay,” she confirms. “It just feels...I don’t know...weird. I guess. In a good way.”

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you.  You trust me?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I didn’t.”

“I’m not gonna last long. You’re so right and you feel so fucking good.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. I just...shit…” she whimpers when he pulls back slightly, then slowly sinks back in. “...fuck...Tyler...that feels so good….so fucking good.”

“You are so beautiful,”  With one hand still on her throat, the other gathers up her hair and moves it away from her neck; lips travelling slowly along her shoulder.  “You’re so beautiful and  so fucking amazing and I love you so much.”

“Fuck me,” she pleads. “I need you to fuck me. Like this. Please. Just fuck me.”

He gives her what she wants. Dedicating himself to slow and deep thrusts that have her crying out into the mattress and her hands tightly fisting the sheets. Until she’s begging him for more;  wanting it harder and faster.  Her pleas not stopping until  he’s quickened and deepened his pace and his balls are slapping against her ass and she’s reaching between her legs to rub frantically at her clit.  

Suddenly -without any warning- he’s thinking about it. That moment three and a half years ago when another man could have experienced this. When another man could have had his hands and his mouth on her. Could have been buried deep inside of her and fucking her into the mattress.  He’s unable to stifle  the rage that takes hold; that has his hand tightening around her throat as his movements become harder and faster.   Punishing.  Spurred on by the noises of pleasure she’s making and the way her hips move against his and match every thrust. Until she’s cumming for the third time that morning; screaming his name and shoving her ass back at him. And he pulls out  of her when he reaches his own release; powerful enough to shake his entire body, painting the small of her ass and the small of her back with hot streams of cum.

Neither of them speak. The hand around her throat relaxing and his eyes closing; chin to his chest and his heart pounding.

He hates himself already.

****

They both doze; wrapped in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And when he wakes once more,  he’s on his side with her head tucked under his chin and her lips pressed against his throat, warm breath tickling his skin.  And he runs a gentle palm over her  head, combing his hand through her hair and letting the fine, silky, dark  tresses slip between his fingers.

She yawns; her legs stretching out and her toes curling as her bare feet peek out from the bottom of the blanket. Pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple and then the underside of his chin before pulling back to look up at him; those eyes dark and loving and a soft, content smile curving her lips.

“Hey,” she greets, and he kisses the end of her nose.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

He nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re lying on your bad shoulder.”

“It’s fine. For now.”  

“You’re so stubborn.” she sighs, then places her hands on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet, body pressing against his.

She feels so fucking good; breasts flattened against his chest, every curve of her body so smooth and supple, skin impossibly soft.  The tip of her tongue grazing against the end of his just before she pulls away; his eyes never leaving her face; searching every of it as his fingers move through her hair.

“You okay?” he asks.

Esme nods. “A little sore,” she admits.

“Want me to get YOU some pain meds?”

She smirks. “I will punch you in the throat and not feel the least bit sorry for it.”

“You’re the one who said I was big.”

“Like you don’t know you are? Like you aren’t proud of it? How many times do you see your dick every day? You know you’re blessed. Don’t even try and deny it. It’s okay to be a bit cocky.”

“That’s a very interesting choice of words considering the subject. Cocky.”

“You are such a fucking ass sometimes!”

“Wow, you’re on a roll today. Fucking ass? Considering you just let me…”

“I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep,” she declares, and shoves him over onto his back.  “And I’m fine,”  she says, as she settles down on her stomach beside him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You were very gentle. And sweet. At first. I don’t know what happened at the end there. You went a little...I don’t know...off the reservation.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I would have told you if it was THAT bad. I would have made you stop. It just surprised me. That you got like that. It wasn’t a horrible thing. It was just...unexpected.”

“I’m sorry,” he pushes his fingers into her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. It just took me by surprise, that’s all. You just went from one extreme to the other. Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t. It was just my brain. Going somewhere it shouldn’t have. You know how it does that sometimes.”

She nods, and runs her knuckles along his jaw.  

“Want me to trim it?”

“I like it like this. When it gets really full and thick and it looks so dark. It’s very sexy. The hair though…”

“It’s exactly the way you like it. Top’s all grown in. Just gotta shave the back and the sides.  I’ll be nice and let you do that for me.”

“It’s like Christmas! I get the full beard AND the old haircut? Not to mention three orgasms in one morning? You spoil me.”

“I try to. I try to be a good husband.”

“And you do a very good job. You’re a damn good husband. I think I’ll keep you.”   She slides further up the bed; draping her arm along his collarbone and resting her forehead against the side of his head.

“Thank you, by the way.” He places a kiss on her forehead and then wraps an around her, hand settling on the small of her back. “That's a really nice early anniversary present. I was not expecting you to go along with that.”

“I guess I was in  a mood.”

“I guess so.”

“And it wasn’t an early gift. It was a ‘just because’ gift. You still have our anniversary to look forward to.”

“Twice? In one year?”

She nods.

“You are way too good to me.”

“Someone has to be,” she reasons, and nuzzles her nose against his ear.  “Do you think we should tell anyone? About the baby?”

“Depends. Do you want to tell people?”

“I think we should wait. Until the second trimester. Because the last time something went wrong, we told people right after we found out I was pregnant. And that didn’t turn out so well, so…”

“Whatever you want, baby. We wanna wait, we wait. You wanna tell people, we tell people. I’m good with whatever.”

“You realize I’m not letting you leave this house now right? That you HAVE to stay? That I need you to stay?”

“I wasn’t going to leave anyway. I already made up my mind last night. When we talked about it.  It made more sense; what you said. It is better...for all of us...if I stay here. I have more control here;  I can keep an eye on you and the kids.  And now? I especially need to keep an eye on you now.”

“I really love that you go all ‘protective daddy to be mode’, but you’re going to have to rein it in a bit if we’re not telling people. But thank you; for agreeing to stay here. I don’t want you out there. On the street. I didn’t want you out there to begin with. I especially don’t want it now that Mahajan has stepped things up. Every gun in Mumbai is pointed at you, Tyler. And being out there would be a disaster. So thank you, for staying here. Because in a way, I get to keep MY eye on YOU. You’re not the only one worries about the person you love, you know.”

He smiles and kisses her. “I know.”

“What do you want this time?” She asks. “A boy or a girl?”

“I just want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because that’s all that really matters to me. Although,  I have to admit, I DID want a boy the second time.”

“And you ended up with two.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I did. And they’re pretty fucking awesome.”

“Well their dad’s pretty fucking awesome, so…” she pecks his lips. “...I think I want another girl.”

“Well the hell would you wish that on me?”

“What are you talking about? You’re an amazing girl dad.”

“Doesn’t mean I want another. Girls are way worse than boys. The boys have been easy compared to Millie.”

“I won’t deny that. But, there is already way too much testosterone in our house. I mean, you alone have enough for the entire New South Wales area. Do we really have to add another one to the mix?”

“Maybe it will be two. One of each.”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you to shut up.”

He gives a small chuckle, then presses a kiss to her brow before she settles her head against his shoulder.  “I need to ask you something. And I don’t  want you flipping your shit on me. It’s just something I want to know. That I NEED to know.”

Her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck. “Okay…”

“I want to know who it is.”

“Who who was?”

“The guy. When we split up. I wanna know who it was.”

She raises her head to look at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Why are we talking about this? When I brought it up, you were the one who said it didn’t matter. That was years ago and we put it all behind us. Those were your exact words . So why are you even bringing it up again?”

“I want to know who it was.”

“Why? Why do you want to know?”

“You don’t think I should know who my wife almost fucked?”

“Almost. That’s the key word. Almost. It never happened. So why the hell does it matter who it was? Nothing happened. Or are you suggesting that it did and I’m lying about it. Is that what you’re doing? You think something DID happen. You think I cheated on you.”

“No. I don’t think that. I know you didn’t.”

“I told you when we got back together. About that night. I was honest with you. I told you exactly what happened and what went down. And you were okay with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do believe you.”

“Then what the fuck? You’re bringing this up now? After you told me NOT to talk about it. Have you been thinking about it all this time? Since I brought it up? Were you thinking about when we were…” her eyes narrow. “...oh my god. You were. You WERE thinking about it then. That’s why you got the way you did. You let it into your head and it pissed you off and you wanted to punish me, didn’t you. That’s why you got as rough as you did. It was to punish me.”

“That wasn’t…”

“Bullshit. It was. You don’t think that after seven years, that I don't  know how you work? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. I know what you get like; when you get pissed off and you need to take it on someone. And that someone is usually me. You were punishing me. Because you didn’t like thinking about me with someone else.”

“You blame me?”

“Yeah, I do. Because you never let shit go. It’s totally okay that I have to think about your past and all the women you fucked. Including Nik, who, I might add, you asked to come here and keep an eye on me and your kids despite all the damage she caused.  Despite the fact she has spent six and a half years trying to wreck our marriage and break our family apart and fuck you every chance she could. Yet she’s still here, isn’t it. You put her right in my fucking face. You didn’t think that would bother me? You think I’d just get over everything she did? It was her fucking fault I even lost that baby. And yet here she is. And here you are acting like I’m supposed to just get over and kiss her ass.”

“Okay, calm down. Just…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down. I told you about that guy. As soon as I let you back in the house and we agreed to work on things. I told you about him and you were fine with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do. I do believe you. I don’t think anything happened. Well, nothing more than what DID happen.”

“Then what does it matter? Who the fuck cares who it was?”

“I fucking care!” He snaps. “I fucking care who it was!”

“Why? Give me one good reason why it matters to you? So you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life?”

“I would never...ever...do that.”

“You’re doing it right now! That’s exactly what you’re doing! I didn’t do anything wrong. We were split up. You fucked things up, remember? You put the job and the booze and the drugs before your family and I wasn’t putting up with that shit and I kicked your ass out. And what did you do? Instead of fighting to get your family back? You just drank more and took more meds and fucking wallowed in your self pity and your own self hate while I was raising your fucking kids!”

“Settle down, okay?” He takes her face in his hand. “Please. Just settle down. I need you to settle down.”

“You could have come home. You could have decided we were worth more to you. But you didn’t. You got worse and worse and started taking the worst possible jobs you could. The more dangerous, the better, right Tyler? That was what you were thinking. Instead of getting over your shit and getting your family back, you became the guy you were before we met.”

“That’s not true. That’s not what was I doing. That’s not what…”

“That’s exactly what you were doing!” She shoves his hands away. “Where were you? You could have fought for us. You could have fought for me. And you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to love me enough to fight for me!  I wanted you love me enough to say ‘fuck the job, fuck the booze, fuck the meds’ and come home and make things right.  And you didn’t. You just got worse. What did you want me to do? Come begging on my hands and knees? Is that what you wanted?”

“No, baby. That’s not what I wanted.”

“You put me in the worst possible fucking situation. I was raising three kids on my own. I was the one they cried to when you were too drunk to show up to visit them. You put that all on me. And you have the nerve to ask me who some guy was that I could have fucked and didn’t? Fuck you, Tyler.  I don’t owe a name. Or a face. I owe you shit.”

“Please…” both hands tightly grip the back of her head and he rests his forehead against her. “...just calm down, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. Cause this. That’s not what I was trying to do. Just calm down. For the baby.”

“Nothing happened. Between me and that guy.”

“I know.”

“Do you know? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you believe me?”

He pulls back to look at her. “I believe you, Esme. I’ve always believed you.”

“If I tell you what happened, you have to promise me you’ll let it go. That you’ll put it behind us. Promise me, Tyler. That if I tell you…”

“DID you fuck him?”

“No. But there’s more to it than you think. That I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d snap and I knew you’d hunt him down and beat the shit out of him and quite possibly kill him and I didn’t want you doing that.”

“Esme...what the fuck...?”

“It wasn’t anyone you know. It was someone from the daycare Millie and the twins were in.”

“A worker? There was like one guy that worked and I’m pretty sure he was gay because you used to come onto me all the time. Unless it was one of the girls and…”

“It was a dad. From the daycare. A single dad.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t know him. He was a cop. That’s all I’m going to tell you about him. You don’t need to know his name or what he looked like or anything like that. I just need you to listen. I need to tell you the whole truth. Can you do that? Just listen?”

He nods.

“He asked me out and I said yes. Because I was pissed off and I was lonely and I wanted…I don’t know...I guess I wanted someone to want me. To look at me and tell me I was beautiful and desirable and all that shit. That’s what I wanted. Attention. What woman doesn't?  And I wanted it from you and I wasn’t going to get it because of how fucked up things were. So he asked me out and I went. Because I needed that. I wanted someone to want me.”

“I wanted you. I wanted my wife.”

“And when you didn’t fight for me, that just pissed me off more and it made me want all that attention even more. So I went out on a date. And that’s all it was supposed to be. But I was drinking and he was drinking and everything coming out of his mouth sounded so good and I was falling for it and believing him and…”

“Jesus fuck, Esme.”

“...and I was going to go through with it. I was. Or I thought I was.”

“Where? In our bed?”

“What? No. I could never do that, Tyler. Ever. No. It wasn’t at the house. It was at his place.”

“You went to his place?”

“Like I said, I was drinking and I was enjoying the attention and believing all the shit he was saying and…” she pauses, taking in a gulp of breath. “...and I was going to do it and I changed my mind. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was in love with my husband and he was the only man I wanted and I was hoping things would work out. And he didn’t like hearing that. I mean, he REALLY didn’t like hearing that.  And he got pissed and started freaking out and trying to do things to me…”

“Esme...please tell me he didn’t…”

“He didn’t. I punched him in the face. And kicked him in the nuts. Then I left.  The next time I saw you...when you got back from Panama... I had that bruise on my face…”

“The one you told me you got when Millie accidentally kicked you.”

“That’s the worst he did. But I didn’t want you to know the truth because I thought you’d hate me. I already thought you hated me. And I was still in love with you and I was still hopeful that you’d get your shit together and come home. That’s why I lied to you; about the bruise. And about why I took the kids out of the daycare. I said it was because of staff cuts and money issues and that’s not what it was. It was so I didn’t have to see that guy ever again.”

“Baby…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her face down into his shoulder. “...it’s okay…”

“I’m sorry. That I lied to you. I wanted to tell you everything. But I didn’t want you to hate me. I was worried if I told you, you’d never come home and I wanted you to come so bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I would never have hated you.”

Her hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. “I wanted you to fight for me and you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I was a mess. I was a fucking mess and I was weak and I didn’t know what to do.”

“When you did come home and we started working on things I  didn’t tell you the whole story because I  knew how mad you’d get it and I knew you’d find out who it was and that you’d track him down and you’d beat the shit out him.”

“I would have done more than beat the shit out of him.”

“And that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to forget about it.  And I knew you wouldn’t let  it go. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Why would I leave? I was home. That’s where I wanted to be. With you. With my kids.”

“I thought you wouldn't believe me. I thought for sure you’d think I DID sleep with that guy and then you’d hate me and leave me and never come back.  I’m sorry, Tyler. That I ever even went anywhere with that guy. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“It’s alright, baby.  It’s alright. I never would have hated you and I never would have left.  I would have believed you. Just like I believe you now. It’s okay…” he cradles her face in his hands, lips pressed against her forehead. “...you’re okay.”

“Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I thought you’d be angry. At me.”

“I have no reason to be angry. And I’m sorry. That I was such a fuck up back then. I wanted to come home.  I did.  But I was a mess and you didn’t deserve that and neither did the kids. And yeah; maybe I did take jobs hoping they’d kill me. I already thought I’d lost everything. I didn’t think it mattered if someone put a bullet in me.”

“It would have mattered to me. And your kids.  I just wanted to get your shit together and come home. And it never seemed to matter to you how much I begged and pleaded with you. It never got through. And I wish none of this ever happened.  I’m sorry.  That things got THAT bad.”

“I’m the one that’s sorry. It was my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.”

“Can you put it behind us now? Now that you know the whole truth? Can we let it go? Can YOU let it go?

He nods.

“I love you. So fucking much. You have no idea. You really don’t.”

“I love you, baby..,” he uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that glisten under her eyes and on her cheeks. “...I always have. I always will.”

She kneels in front of him and wraps both arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she possibly can.

“It’s alright." He runs his hands up and down her back and kisses the side of her neck. “Everything’s alright now.”

“No. It’s not. My ass is still sore.”

He can’t help but laugh at that.

“And you wonder why I only give in once a year.”

“I’m sorry that my dick is THAT big.”

“Ninety nine percent of the time, I think it’s a blessing. This is the one percent of the time it’s not. I’m going to take a bath. Are you okay with the kids? Your body can hang in there? You’re not in too much pain?”

“I’m okay. I’ve been in worse pain. You’ve seen me a lot worse off.”

“Yeah, I have. And I don’t want to see it again. Promise me you’ll stay here. With us. Because we need you here. I NEED you here.”

“I promise,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[niflim]

headcanon: mental health, psyche, etc.

beneath the cut is both an explanation of dysthymia ( persistent depressive disorder ) in addition to major depressive episode, post - traumatic stress disorder and acquired brain injury via mako poisoning in the context of cloud’s life.

i hope to present this information in a completely analytical way, free of any perceived bias. so it is also my hope that you inform me if i have in any way misstepped. it’s not my intent to offend, merely to provide my view on what cloud experiences, which i understand can sometimes be a dangerous thing in today’s world. this is a long post, but i do hope that you at least give it a skim ! i apologize for the blockquotes, if i could’ve linked individual sections, i definitely would’ve.

dysthymia & major depressive disorder. cloud develops dysthymia during his childhood. i wouldn’t call it simply major depressive disorder because his behavior doesn’t occur for mere weeks at a time. it’s on a larger scale and persists for at least two years ( one year in children and adolescents ). most people would assume that any depressive disorder would cause someone to become, well, depressed. but the interesting thing about adolescents is that they are actually more prone to irritability than so - called ' depression ’. 

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

‘ a. depressed mood for most of the day, for more days than not, as indicated by either subjective account or observation by others, for at least 2 years.

note: in children and adolescents, mood can be irritable and duration must be at least 1 year.

b. presence, while depressed, of two (or more) of the following:

poor appetite or overeating.

insomnia or hypersomnia.

low energy or fatigue.

low self-esteem.

poor concentration or difficulty making decisions.

feelings of hopelessness.

c. during the 2-year period (1 year for children or adolescents) of the disturbance, the individual has never been without the symptoms in criteria a and b for more than 2 months at a time.

d. criteria for a major depressive disorder may be continuously present for 2 years.

e. there has never been a manic episode or a hypomanic episode, and criteria have never been met for cyclothymic disorder.

f. the disturbance is not better explained by a persistent schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia, delusional disorder, or other specified or unspecified schizophrenia spectrum and other psychotic disorder.

g. the symptoms are not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., a drug of abuse, a medication) or another medical condition (e.g. hypothyroidism).

h. the symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. ’

symptoms that apply: insomnia, low self - esteem, poor concentration / difficulty making decisions, feelings of hopelessness.

i’m going to be tackling this going down the list.

a. in cloud’s childhood, cloud comes off as fairly irritable, especially towards tifa’s friends. his lack of self - esteem showed itself in a heightened opinion of himself, as arrogance tends to. he decided he was better than the other kids, therefore he shouldn’t be bothered that he can’t hang out with them. this is relatively weak, admittedly, to what i will be discussing next. it’s only one symptom as opposed to the two required. 

b & c. the event that took place when he was nine and tifa was eight, after the death of her mother and the trip to mt. nibel, really hammers the point home. because of his perceived incitement of the expedition rather than his attempt to help tifa, he was met with the ire of the adults and dissuaded from talking to tifa. this introduces way more irritability in the form of cloud’s anger problem and inappropriate feelings of guilt that are associated with an episode of major depressive disorder.

according to an article published by the h.arvard medical school: 

‘ symptoms can grow into a full-blown episode of major depression. people with persistent depressive disorder have a greater-than-average chance of developing major depression. while major depression often occurs in episodes, persistent depressive disorder is defined as more constant, lasting for years ’.

at least, cloud experiences a major depressive episode ; at most, he develops the full - blown disorder. given that he’s been experiencing persistent depressive disorder with at least two points in his life where he has had a major depressive episode ( mt. nibel, failing to make it into soldier, during advent children ), i’d wager that the latter situation is the reality. 

d. since major depression disorder is chronic and tends to come in episodes during particularly taxing times, it can still be present when one is diagnosed with dysthymia. major depressive disorder comes with four additional symptoms: excessive guilt / feelings of worthlessness, s.uicide ideation, loss of interest, psychomotor agitation / r.etardation. cloud does indeed experience excessive guilt, as discussed above, and i would wager that he does go through a period where he has feelings of worthlessness and he definitely loses interest in making friends.

e, f, g. i wouldn’t classify cloud’s ‘ substance - related illness ’ / mako poisoning as grounds for a manic episode. nor does it cause substance - related depression ; this is merely the situation framing his contact with mako.

h. this condition causes a lot of issues in cloud’s social life as shown by his relationship to the other kids ( though it was in part due to their exclusivity ) and his easy - to - anger personality.

i believe that it is also worth noting that the aforementioned article also reveals that ‘ some people with persistent depressive disorder have experienced a major loss in childhood, such as the death of a parent ’. cloud went through the loss of a father at an early age, i headcanon around age 5 / 6, and growing up without a fatherly figure can be rough for a child. i know without a doubt that claudia could only do so much to make sure her son grew up fine. that is not to bring her down or any single mothers down, there is no doubt she loved her son dearly, but it still isn’t something that can be ignored. i’m sure cloud owes his open mind, kindness, and protective nature to her, and that is also something that made him vulnerable to the other kids’ teasing, leading cloud to become depressed and try to be tough and hide his emotions.

post - traumatic stress disorder. it goes without saying that cloud has experienced multiple traumatic experiences in his life. there’s the events at mt. nibel & tifa’s coma, the nibelheim incident, and zack’s death. so instead of proving the trauma that is undoubtedly there, i will instead be speaking of the symptoms that he experiences due to the disorder.

criterion as per the dsm - v ( taken verbatim ) is presented below:

a. exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

directly experiencing the traumatic event(s).

witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others.

learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. in cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental.

experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse).

note: criterion a4 does not apply to exposure through electronic media, television, movies, or pictures, unless this exposure is work related.

b. presence of one (or more) of the following intrusion symptoms associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred:

recurrent, involuntary, and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s). note: in children older than 6 years, repetitive play may occur in which themes or aspects of the traumatic event(s) are expressed.

recurrent distressing dreams in which the content and/or affect of the dream are related to the traumatic event(s). note: in children, there may be frightening dreams without recognizable content.

dissociative reactions (e.g., flashbacks) in which the individual feels or acts as if the traumatic event(s) were recurring. (such reactions may occur on a continuum, with the most extreme expression being a complete loss of awareness of present surroundings.) note: in children, trauma-specific reenactment may occur in play.

intense or prolonged psychological distress at exposure to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

marked physiological reactions to internal or external cues that symbolize or resemble an aspect of the traumatic event(s).

c. persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s).

d. negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs).

persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “i am bad,” “no one can be trusted,” ‘the world is completely dangerous,” “my whole nervous system is permanently ruined”).

persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others.

persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame).

markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities.

feelings of detachment or estrangement from others.

persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings).

e. marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects.

reckless or self-destructive behavior.

hypervigilance.

exaggerated startle response.

problems with concentration.

sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep).

f. duration of the disturbance (criteria b, c, d, and e) is more than 1 month.

g. the disturbance causes clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

h. the disturbance is not attributable to the physiological effects of a substance (e.g., medication, alcohol) or another medical condition.

a. we’ve already established that cloud fits this criterion because he has the disorder.

b. cloud experiences intrusive or recurrent memories of the traumatic event (1) in addition to dreams that put him as a player in the burning of nibelheim. he usually takes zack’s role until his memory is restored (2). given that cloud has multiple instances in which sephiroth visits him in a vision while he is awake, there also some instances when they’re just that ... visions / flashbacks of his trauma outside of the influence that sephiroth holds on him (3). cloud experiences distress and pain whenever he’s visited by a vision of sephiroth or the mention of zack’s name (4, 5).

 c. though his behavior is certainly the closed off sort, he doesn’t avoid tifa. in fact, he is drawn to her as a survivor of the event and a supposed dear friend. he does, however, present himself as emotionally closed off, for the most part, save for some softer moments where he acts protective of his newfound friends (1, 2).

d. cloud definitely misremembers the events surrounding the nibelheim incident and zack’s death, instead becoming confused by the memories zack told him about and believing himself to be zack (1). cloud is instilled with the belief that despite now being a merc, he has to be the perfect soldier which would require him to be strong, resourceful, and careful with his emotions. he takes a no -  nonsense approach to life. this tends to fail (2). cloud feels somewhat responsible for tifa’s father’s death even in his false memories and, also, later feels responsible for zack’s death once he knows the truth. he feels that it is in some way his fault (3). cloud maintains a somewhat pissy attitude for the first half of the game, but, ultimately, this doesn’t entirely apply to him (4). cloud feels a diminished interest in being friends with tifa’s friends, especially after the incident that caused his initial trauma and feels even more separated and detached from them. this is also how he handles his initial interactions with the members of avalanche, though they eventually get through to him (5, 6). he’s emotionally closed off, as mentioned above, and is more prone to anger. but people who show him understanding and the praise / acceptance / acknowledgement he secretly wishes for, he cracks a smile.

e. he is easy to anger and gets into fights with the other kids after mt. nibel (1). cloud, somewhat recklessly, goes off to become a soldier. though not conditionally reckless, i do think it’s odd that simply trying to impress someone could push him to do something like that. maybe some part of him wanted to be more than he was, not just to earn tifa’s attention (2). cloud is very alert and aware of his surroundings. it’s in part battle instinct, in part training, in part trauma - induced (3). this one is hit or miss, it really depends (4). no problems with concentration, unless in the throes of a vision (5). we experience how restless cloud is in how easily he wakes up. when tifa knocks, when there’s the clone next door, when he’s at aerith’s house. he’s a light sleeper (6).

f. yes, it’s been more than a month.

g. this does cause social issues.

h. given that this condition was present before cloud’s mako poisoning, it is not the result of a substance. however, mako poisoning did make things worse.

acquired brain injury - mako poisoning. one of the causes of an abi happens to be poisoning compared to trauma caused by an impact or injury in the event of a traumatic brain injury. injuries of this sort can create permanent or temporary damage to one’s psyche --- cognitive, physical, emotional, or behavioral. this happens to cloud twice. given that he doesn’t necessarily recover from his mako poisoning entirely before falling in the lifestream again, his already active condition actually worsens. without zack’s stories to supplement his memories the second time, he completely loses himself and remains vegetative until tifa aids him in piecing together their shared past. it’s not all her, as cloud does have a hand in it, showing that he hasn’t completely lost himself, his mind is merely scrambled in a sort of dissociative amnesia that requires outside help to set right. this contributes to his depression and anger issues ( though, admittedly, they’ve diminished for the most part in his soldier state ). this also contributes to his memory loss. if anyone is curious, i can attempt to write more on this later !

sources: dsm - v, abi wiki ( the sources here checked out ), h.arvard health publishing.

[kogo-dogo]

I looked at your favorite character top 5 thing and there's the one character you said was your ''problematic fave''. And I've heard of that game before because I saw somebody play it on Youtube once, I think the second one, and I was just curious about the character. Torque?? Because it seems like such a bad game and he didn't seem to have much personality but you seem very attacked so I was wondering if maybe it was worth looking into the series or something. I like old games.

I am so sorry that I said a week ago I’d answer this, Anon. I have so many thoughts about this probably-actually-one-dimensional character because I’ve had sixteen years to pick apart every scrap of info that exists about him. And overanalysis of fictional men is, at this point, my primary hobby.

First of all… eh. I won’t say to definitively not look into the series, but I would encourage you not look into the series. It’s one of those things that’s aged like an open bottle of two-buck chuck and I can tell you right now that it wouldn’t be as palatable in 2020 as it was in 2004. As much as I love Prison is Hell (the first game) and as much as I get what they were trying to do, they messed a lot of things up and it wouldn’t translate well to modern times. This is especially true for Ties That Bind. Oh my god, do NOT play Ties That Bind if you’re easily offended.

It’s fascinating to pick apart, though, even if it seems extremely basic on the surface level, and part of the reason I like Torque so much is because he’s a very interesting character to crack open and inspect. I know he probably Isn’t That Deep, but he’s interesting, figuring him out is a puzzle because of the way storytelling is carried out, and if he’d been handled better, would probably still be remembered beyond “quiet dude in a game Youtubers occasionally play on Halloween.” He’s really an unfortunate casualty of that era of gaming. It’s surprising he was handled with any dignity at all.

Spoilers are to follow, but it’s for the best. Now you don’t have to play the game.

First, a disclaimer: The Suffering games do work on a morality system, where you can get good or bad endings based on how you treat other people. The game is heavily designed to favor the good ending, and most people I’ve spoken to have agreed the good endings are likely canonical considering how much you’d miss while playing neutral/evil. So, we’re going with the “Good Aligned Torque is Canon” angle.

Okay. Now.

- Who is Torque? 

This guy.

Torque is, in essence, what happens when you take every tired trope of a horror movie villain and flip it around on its head. He’s a severely mentally ill inmate convicted of murder (while it’s never outright stated what mental illnesses he has, it’s pretty obviously a mixture of DID and schizophrenia), he never speaks (at least not in the present; he does have scant dialogue in flashbacks in the second game; it amounts to maybe eight words total), and he is… freakishly strong. Beyond that, there’s very heavy evidence that he’s somehow supernaturally inclined. 

The difference is that, instead of being presented as the villain, he’s the hero. He’s not just the hero, he’s basically one of the very few competent people in the games. Nobody treats him any different than they would anyone else, the game doesn’t go out of its way to underline that he’s some kind of “monster,” and even when the most monstrous of his alters presents itself (The Creature, who we’ll discuss later), people are just kind of like, “Oh, well that was different” and then move on with their lives.

He is a character who could very easily take the place of Jason Voorhees, and instead of being given a machete and told to kill everyone he comes across, he’s given a fire ax and a voice in his head that tells him to take care to think about how much other people are struggling and that maybe, being that he is probably stronger than them, he should put forth the effort to get them someplace safe. 

- Okay, but, like… WHO is he? Character-wise?

If you want his backstory, it’s actually one of the best parts about him and one of the few things that Ties That Bind expands upon correctly. To summarize, he’s a victim of the state that fell through the cracks, pieced his life back together, and then ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

To be more long-winded: He was a troubled child with psychiatric problems who lost both of his parents in a car accident. With no living relatives beyond his parents, he was placed into the Garvey Children’s Home, where the conditions were less than ideal. A mixture of strain, trauma, loneliness, and desperation prompted his brain to divide up into three: himself, Blackmore, and The Creature. Then, left to navigate life and his own mental health on his own, he ended up falling in with some very bad crowds.

He became a drug dealer. He got in a lot of altercations. He was in and out of prison. This only stopped when he met his wife and became a family man, and began to consciously put forth the effort to right himself. He had two sons, had everything under control… and then ended up in prison again when the guy he used to work for on the streets hired a man to come pay him a visit at his friend’s bar and press every last one of his buttons until he snapped. He wound up in prison, his wife divorced him, and everyone assumed he’d end up back to his old tricks.

Except… he didn’t go back to being a drug dealer. He got a job at a gym instead. He stayed on the right track. He started reconciling with his ex-wife who, right before the events of the first game, moved back in with him. 

This didn’t sit well with the men Torque used to run with, especially not the guy he used to work for… so a hit was ordered on him and his family. He wasn’t home when it was carried out. He walked in, found his wife and kids dead, and passed out in his apartment from the shock, where the police found him after receiving a tip.

He was bloody. He was disoriented. He was known to be a repeat offender. They pinned the whole thing on him and, after a very unfair trial, he was sentenced to death.

The first day he arrives in prison--located on scenic Carnate Island--the ground opens up and monsters begin sweeping over the land. Convenient.

- Wait, this bitch has alters?

Yeah. This… isn’t really a part of the game that’s handled well, but it’s interesting. There’s a lot of weirdness going on with Torque (remember that supernatural bend I mentioned?), and one of the two is… well, I’m not sure he’s an alter at all.

First, there’s Torque himself who is just a short-tempered, easily frustrated, but generally reasonable guy who really just wanted to keep his head above water. Secondly, there’s The Creature, a defense mechanism and literal monster that is incapable of communication and rears its head whenever he feels threatened. Physically threatened, generally, which resulted in The Creature being a bit violent. Torque has a pretty extensive arrest record and most of his arrests seem to revolve around “punched a guy at an inopportune time.”

Blackmore is more complicated, because he isn’t really clear. You see, there’s a snippet of dialogue in the second game and a lot of environmental storytelling that indicates that Torque is supernaturally gifted somehow (something he likely inherited from his mother), and that some of his mental illnesses are actually paranormal interference. Blackmore is the biggest gray area, because while he is presented as an alter, he… very much defies that. 

He’s presented as a presence that Torque experiences externally and that only he can see (not really uncommon; Torque hallucinates pretty frequently throughout the game), but he also seems to be aware and consciously trying to control Torque. When that fails, he settles for trying to find a way to take over Torque’s body permanently. He’s capable of actually getting in physical altercations with Torque, but at the same time can hijack his body to do things he wouldn’t normally be able to do. He honestly smacks more of something Torque is possessed by instead of something his brain came up with itself, made all the more obvious by the fact that the final battle in the second game is literally Torque and Blackmore beating the everloving hell out of each other after Torque consciously realizes that nobody can perceive Blackmore but him.

But at the same time, that guy that Torque worked for that ordered the hit on his family? That’s Blackmore. There’s a lot of talk about how nobody has ever seen Blackmore (indicating he only communicated via writing or phone or what have you), and it’s all… very, very stupid. It’s one of those things in TTB that made me throw up my hands and go, “Well, sure. Okay. Let’s just do that, then. That makes perfect sense thanks.”

(I do not like most of Ties That Bind.)

- Okay, so he’s supernatural somehow?

Mm-hm. Again, it’s never explicitly stated, but heavily implied through some dialogue from my second favorite character in the game (DR. Q.L. KILLJOY, MOTHERFUCKER) and just the way the story plays out. 

Carnate Island erupts with a bad case of monsters the second Torque sets foot on the island. A prologue you unlock after you beat the game once reveals that Torque actually hallucinated the first game’s end boss before he even saw it, indicating he has some precognitive abilities. The sentient spirits of both games know who Torque is and take a special interest in him, and plenty make allusions that they’re “more alike” than he thinks. Blackmore is very clearly paranormal in origin and seems to even be able to command the monsters in some way. 

Hell, Dr. Killjoy even implies at the end of the first game that Torque is somehow making all of this happen and, only by tackling the root of his problems, can he make everything stop.

While there’s never been an active fandom for this game, I used to associate with a small group of fans, and there was actually a lot of discussion/disagreements about whether Torque actually had any form of psychosis or if maybe he had latent psychic abilities he couldn’t control. Seeing things all the time, causing things to accidentally happen that nobody would believe; it’d be easy to be chalked up with a disorder when there’s no way to know or prove what you’re experiencing is Real Shit.

- Why do you hate Ties That Bind so much?

Because of the way it improperly handles a bunch of mental health stuff that the first game wisely didn’t actually touch on much beyond acknowledging the fact that This Guy Are Sick.

Prison is Hell makes it very evident that Torque has psychiatric problems but never dwells on it overmuch. There’s even an entire chapter of the game that takes place in an old asylum with an early 1900s alienist ghost (DR. KILLJOY) trying to diagnose and “treat” Torque, and it still is mostly hinged on the horrors of old-timey treatment of mentally ill patients than anything about Torque. That and Dr. Killjoy’s misguided good intent (that dude deserves a whole essay of his own, to be honest).

Instead of hammering it home that he has Issues and deciding to talk too much about Issues, it just treats Torque like a human being. Your main goal is getting off the island and saving stragglers along the way, all of which react to Torque just the same way they would to anyone. COs will either be authoritative or condescending. Fellow inmates will be suspicious but more likely to work with him. Everyone is always gracious for his help, and nobody makes any odd remarks about anything weird he does (barring when The Creature shows up; then, they just remark on, “DUDE HOW IN THE FUCK?” because you find out, later on, that all they see is Torque getting in fist fights with things twice his size and winning).

Torque is just Torque. He just do what Torque do.

Ties That Bind then goes barreling into a bunch of tired tropes and tries to make a convoluted twist ending, and then there’s the whole matter of the secret underground organization that wants to capture Torque and have been working with Blackmore and you end up fighting a helicopter and some SWAT-looking motherfuckers and… they try so much harder to be edgy and gritty and it’s really fucking stupid.

The only good things you get out of it are some further snippets into Torque’s backstory (appreciated), the return of Dr. Q.L. Killjoy (always welcome), and a set of monsters known as Gorgers (they make purr-gle sounds when they eat and I love them).

Oh, and Consuela. She is mentioned in the first game and actually shows up in the second, and I can respect any woman who gets captured by an evil paramilitary organization and, immediately upon being rescued, takes the biggest gun she can find, looks you dead in the eye, and says, “I’m going to steal a fucking boat, drive it straight into a warzone, and rescue my goddamn husband. You with me or not?”

She is literally some female parallel to Torque and my headcanon is they are bros.

- Anything else?

Yeah. The soundtrack for the game is pretty awesome and ended up inspiring some other music in a couple of other video games of the time (Mortal Kombat: Armageddon immediately comes to mind). They actually rigged up some pretty cool contraptions to make unique sounds and ambience using shit like scrap metal and garbage, and the results are pretty fucking cool.

Favorites of mine are the boss themes for Hermes, and Dr. Killjoy, with Dr. Killjoy’s being my absolute favorite of all of them. The main theme of the game is pretty great, too, and is probably the most iconic of all of the songs on the OST. I’ve even heard it used in stuff where I doubt people knew what the hell The Suffering was, lol.

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  I hope your day is going well so far!  Are you still getting snow, or has the storm calmed a bit?  We’re supposed to be getting a potentially severe ice storm over the course of today.  There’s already a thin layer this morning, we’ll see how the rest of the day goes.  And temperatures are supposed to stay in about the -4 to -6C range the rest of the week.  I’m very glad that I’m off the next couple of days, and managed to get by the grocery last night after work.

I saw your post about writing and writing styles!  It was helpful because I’ve not really seen the different styles written out and explained before.  I’m still not 100% which I am, but probably either an intuitive plotter or a methodological pantser.  Usually there’s a scene or a line or two that I’m like “this needs to happen in this story” and everything else is fairly free-form.  I did try actually writing down an outline for IYWTD, but even then it’s more a list of beats/tropes and the order I want to include them in.  (And I’ve only just made it past halfway through, although a couple may need to be altered a bit, oh god, how did this get so long…)

It’s also always kinda of amusing to me how many of those writing advice lists are like “Don’t do this”, “Stop doing this”, “Never do that”, and then they’ll encourage you to find your own voice and style.  Like, bitch, you just told me not to ever do half the shit that makes up my style.  Which am I supposed to do?  Damn.  XD  (You will seriously pry adverbs and similar descriptors from my cold, dead, grasping hands.  Also the occasional epithet.  No, I’m not using a character’s name nine times in one paragraph, sorry, and pronouns don’t always help if the characters are the same gender.  The reader can deal. ;D )

And I feel ya on the tall, skinny, blue-eyed boys thing.  It doesn’t have to be just a white boy, but if he’s taller than me, slender, and has a pretty pair of baby blues, my higher brain functions tend to go into insta-lag.  I ain’t particularly proud, but I’ve long accepted this about myself (there are many reasons Luke became my forever BAE.)  That’s not to say a lack of any of those is a deal-breaker in the slightest, but it’s definitely going to immediately get my attention.

Speaking (vaguely) of Luke, I had a thought the other day of him and Din being off on some planet together (Grogu is staying with Aunt Leia and Uncle Han for a few days), and there’s a noise in the middle of the night, and Din refuses to accept Luke’s assurance that there’s nothing out there, and in true himbo fashion insists on going out to investigate having grabbed only the darksaber and his helmet to cover his face -but nothing else.  Luke just finds it a combo of hysterical and adorable (and kinda hot.)

I hope your novel is going well (whatever stage you happen to be at), and I’m always up for hearing whatever you feel like sharing about it.

I hope you’re still doing well with the whole eating and hydrating regularly thing (it’s also totally okay if you aren’t!), and I’m super proud of you for sticking to it as much as you can anyway.  That shit is hard.  (Also, ignore the 1500 calories thing, I swear that shit is designed for 130lb women trying to shed a few pounds, not people who need to safely and steadily lose larger amounts of weight.  But then I’ve also never fully understood making someone lose weight before surgery, either.  “We need you to get rid of some excess weight before we’ll okay this surgery to *checks notes* get rid of some excess weight."  Like, weird flex, but okay.)

Anyway, I’m rambling again, and should really eat some breakfast and try to write a little myself today, maybe.  Hope you’re feeling okay, and that things are going well overall.  I hope Mo is doing well, and enjoying his best cuddle buddy life.  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay, gonna try this this way so that I can refer back to the links on my phone if need be.  I couldn’t quite see the full entries for the physical descriptions, and when I tried clicking on them it kept asking for a login, but I think I saw enough to get the gist.  I’m not sure exactly what sort of feedback you’re interested in, if any, so this will mainly be my usual sort of rambling stream-of-consciousness type thoughts and questions.  Hope that’s okay.  Feel free to ignore if it’s not what you’re after right now!  :D

I think one of the first questions that popped to mind was where is/what happened to Ellie’s mom, and is that something that’s going to cause problems later in some way?  (I.e.- was she killed on a hunt, are they divorced, was it bitter or amicable [would she come after her daughter if she heard about his relationship?])  I guess technically similar questions could also apply to Nate (late husband, ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, one night stand, sperm donor?) it was just more noticeable with Ellie being so young still.  Although that could also be part of why he’s ended up in Wyoming, which was another question I had, although there I assume it’s hunt-related.

I also anticipate quite a bit of tension of all kinds when he and Nate first meet, because Faron strikes me from his descriptions as someone rather used to being able to get his own way either through the influence of who he is, or through his size (not necessarily in any kind of intentional or aggressive way, more in an unconscious privilege kind of way, if that makes sense?), and I don’t think Nate sounds like the type to give two shits about either of those things, and it would probably drive Faron up the proverbial wall that Nate isn’t intimidated by him in the slightest.  (I could be entirely wrong about all this, this is just the impression I get so far. :D )  And I think Nate being noticeably older than him would just make it that much more irritating at first, too.  Now, how long these impressions last will just depend on how quickly they get to know each other, and whether Bachelor #3 is helping or hindering things.  XD  The potential for just sitting back and watching the fireworks as “laid-back dad jokes with a quick temper” clashes with “quiet, reserved, and possibly takes themselves slightly too seriously” might prove too much for our last contestant for a while, depending on where his personality falls.  ;D  (Especially since Faron coming in and starting shit will likely come off as a direct threat to people and places Nate considers under his protection.)

Also, are any of these three going to have met before?  Will Nate already have some sort of relationship with the werewolf (Does he already know about the supernatural at all?)  Did he and Faron encounter each other on the trip to Europe you mentioned in the Life Highlights?  If he and the wolf already know each other, how does he get along with Cas, or Nate’s pets?  Is the werewolf also going to be native to the region?  Does he know anything about Faron’s family?  Does Faron already know he’s a werewolf, or is that going to be a bit of a crisis for him later?  A test of how well he’s learned not to judge?  If Nate doesn’t already know, how will he deal with both their secrets?  Do you plan for full-shift only wolves, partial-shift only wolves, or a mix of the two like TW?  Are there other supes in the area?

I think you mentioned maybe having him be of Native American descent?  I think that could be very interesting, but would require a LOT of research into which tribes are active in the Yellowstone area, and what their individual mythologies say about things like shapeshifters, and LGTBQ+ issues, etc., because there can be a fair amount of variance, I’m sure.  Also, I’m just overall curious how he’ll fit in with the other two size wise (get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean.  XD )  Also curious if any o them are going to have the slightest clue on the feelings front, or are they all going to be just absolute disasters?  Will the kids figure it out before they do?  Will the kids get along?  (Will BachelorWolf have any kids of his own, or just Nate and Faron?)  Will Nate’s coworkers have any clue about either the supernatural, or what’s going on with those three?  Because I suspect at least some of them will be way more obvious than they think they’re being.  XD

Uh… I think that was all that’s occured to me right now?…  I’m sorry you’re having a yucky day overall, and I hope tomorrow’s a bit better!  The ice storm has finally moved in here, and I can feel the temperature drop radiating off of the front door and windows.  It went from rain to freezing rain/hail and I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to last.  Hopefully only a little while.  Also, sorry your book was terrible.  I haven’t seen too many recent recommendations from friends, and I’ve been mostly reading “cozy” mysteries (Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, etc) as my comfort reading myself, lately, so I can’t really suggest anything in particular, unfortunately.  At least, nothing I think you wouldn’t already know.  Anyway, hope you’re getting some decent rest, and hope you have a better day tomorrow!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Alright since this is going to be like a very long one, I’m break it down into a few things.

First full physical descriptions, cause I didn’t know Milanote would be a bitch about it.

Nate:

164 cm (5'4), 75 kg (166 lbs), Short slightly overweight trans man in his middle age. Nearly always the shortest man in the room, only standing around 5'4 and weighing in around 166 lbs. With kind moss green eyes that have permanent crow's feet in their corners and a polite but reserved smile always on his face. 

A face that's framed by faint freckles that are only visible in the sunlight. A neatly trimmed beard spices up his features and frames his pink lips. His thick but short eyebrows frame his eyes and create a short arc to his slim nose. 

A high forehead separates his brows from his wavy dark blond hair that's always tucked behind his ears. 

He generally wears the Superintendents' Park Ranger uniform while on duty. When he's not he wears comfortable jeans and t-shirts, usually a mono color like green, white, or black, plaid flannel shirts, socks with the weirdest patterns and colors, and hiking boots. He wears a steel ring on his right index finger and has a little steel Mjolnir on a necklace around his neck.

He's missing two fingers (his ring and little finger) on his left hand due to a childhood accident.

Faron:

185 cm (6'1 ft), 93 kg (205 lbs), Faron is a tall man with plenty of muscle from his time hunting. He can seem daunting and intimidating when you first meet him but there is a kinder, softer side to him. He has a warm light brown skin color, blue eyes, and black natural tight curly hair that he keeps very short. His full dark beard decorates his cheeks and chin, connects to his upper lip, and all the way up to his sideburns.

  He tends to wear dark clothing, leather jackets, no jewelry that could identify him, jeans, henley shirts, or V-neck shirts, and black, brown, or red jackets. He usually wears black combat boots or dark brown hiking boots. He's got knives and other weapons hidden all over his body and pockets and it might take him a good few minutes to unload every single knife from his body when he was to disarm.

There are also scars all over his body, including some scars on his neck that are visible from day to day life. He had the bad luck of being struck down by a vicious Wendigo but managed to escape. He survived thanks to his sister's quick thinking and first aid.

He covers some of those scars up with tattoos; he has one tattoo of a dragon laying down on his shoulder, with its head on his chest and its body curling over his shoulder and ending just below his shoulder blades. And one tattoo covers up some scars on his lower arm, it's a tattoo of a wolf's head that covers up a bite mark.

Dichali:

He’s 37 and has 4 siblings, and two children, Kajika & Kaniya (Jika & Niya, identical twins, but one of them identifies as male, he’s trans. Kajika is his chosen/reassigned name. They are 10.) Dichali grew up in Riverton, WY, which is the largest town of 10,000 in the largest Native Reservation in Wyoming. He’s also a dear friend to our Nate (who is also his boss technically) and has slowly been falling in love with him for the last few years. (Although he still hasn’t realized that he loves his friend.) 

Yena, his coworker and friend, who’s much younger at 25 has been watching her coworker and her boss joke and dance around each other. She has a betting pool with her girlfriend on who snaps first.

Not sure how I’ll connect him to Faron if it’s more fun/better to have him find out later or to already know him and keep it quiet. 

I’m still working on him, so I don’t have much of personality and other things written down yet. But I have made his physical description:

At 178 cm (5'8) and 83 kilos (182 lbs) Dichali probably isn't the tallest man you've met, he's also not the shortest. And while he's got some good muscle on him from working as a Park Ranger, and being a werewolf, he also has some softer sides. All the better to cuddle with. He has long straight brown hair that falls to his mid-back and deep brown eyes and a long nose that ends prominently. His eyebrows are thin and he has a high forehead. His skin is a light Tawny color, there's a hint of an orange brown with a cool undertone.

His skin is also relatively clear and youthful looking because of his lycanthropy.

He tends to wear pants and jackets made by native designers and always incorporates native fashion into his outfits. He has jackets of mostly gray, blue, brown, and black colors made of denim, cotton, wool, or brass that are lined with more traditional cloths and patterns like the designer brand Ginew. Usually he pairs them with dark jeans, either black, gray, or dark blue. He pairs it with white, blue, red, black, or printed band t-shirts (Metallica, Green Day, Marianas Trench). 

For shoes he has brown hiking boots that are part of the Ranger uniform, more western styled boots like black cowboy boots, and a pair of sneakers.He also wears a copper bracelet with lighting bolts etched into it.

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Now this whole story got started because I had the question what if we had a DILF romance going on while/because the following happened?

What if a YouTube video that accidentally got uploaded shows the existence of a werewolf in Yellowstone park? Threatening to expose the entire supernatural world.

The werewolves right now are a mix, so half shift is like the classical half shift of a wolf head on a man’s body, but the full shift is more like a larger wolf. Almost the size of a black bear. Though I might change those ideas as the story progresses.

But that is how the Cryptid of Yellowstone is brought into the world. And that brings problems. Big problems.

Wendigos, vampires, djins, I plan to create a world where a lot of supernatural creates exist. From all sorts of cultures. I’m also toying with the idea of Kelpies and Griffins. That kind of stuff.

The supernatural world is hidden from ours, hidden in plain sight if you will. Most encounters are written off as really strange, sometimes a picture pops up, but with the coming of the internet, things have gotten more complicated. Also with deforestation and competition with regular wildlife has made some bigger supernatural creatures either extinct or thought to be extinct. They’re not sure what still lives in Australia, though.

Nate or his son don’t know about the supernatural world. Neither does Yena. Or much of the world. Dichali, his children (to some extent), Faron, and Faron’s family do know about this world.

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Alright, as for your other post XD

Right now it’s no longer storming but due to the freezing temperatures the snow’s not going away and all public transport and delivery services are still not driving/delivering/running. So that’s neat. Not. 

I swear we get some snow and the country is just down. Upside, ain’t nobody going outside and this helps with lockdown.

I hope your snowstorm won’t be too bad and everything thaws down soon. Snow’s fun for a day but after that...

Make sure you stay warm alright? And bundle up.

Yes dad... alright XD

Honestly, I’m glad to hear you liked my advice too. I’m getting quite a bit of positive feedback on it and that just makes me really happy ^^. I’m definitely writing more writing advice from everything I’ve learned so far.

There’s honestly so many contradicting ones out there, it’s a matter of picking and choosing which ones work best for you and applying those. And that’s the real trick of advice.

Fun fact, a lot of famous writers are also pantsers. Steven King, Neil Gaiman, George RR Martin are examples of famous pantsers or gardeners as they are also called. 

John Grisham, JK Rowling, RL Stein fall into the plotter or architect category. 

Writers like Hank Green seem to fall in the in-between category of plantser (somewhere between a plotter and a pantser. Or the Intuitive plotter.)

Okay but the DinLuke things is really really kinda hot and cute and adorable and has me smiling <3

And I can’t remember what else I wanted to say since it is like 2 am and my meds are seriously kicking in now.

But I hope you’re doing alright and that the snowstorm isn’t too bad where you’re at.

I’ll be alright, my diet hasn’t been going so well the last few days and I can’t really exercise, but I did mostly get healthy groceries that will be delivered friday so there’s that. 

Fingers crossed I can pick it back up.

Okay I’m heading to bed XD 

I’ll talk to you later, B <3 

Hugs from me and Mo <3