#scientific wall charts

[uwmspeccoll]

Sarah Strikes Again!

On December 30, the very last research day of 2022, our former long-time graduate intern and social media science editor Sarah Finn (now the Archival Projects Librarian at the Milwaukee Public Library) visited Special Collections to do research with some of our rare or scarce natural history publications including these four early-20th-century biological wall charts. As we unrolled the charts onto our tables (a two-person effort), we were so struck by the exquisite presentation of these invertebrates, we just had to share.

The undated, chromolithographic charts, measuring approximately 135 x 130 cm (4.4 x 4.3 ft.), were produced by Austrian zoologist and natural history artist Paul Pfurtscheller (1855-1927). They form part of his Zoölogische Wandplaten series which began in 1902 and included about 70 charts. The first charts in the series were originally published in Vienna by A. Pichler's Witwe & Sohn, and we hold a few of these earliest charts. The charts shown here, however, were printed in Stuttgart by Adam Gatternicht lithographers for The Hague publisher Martinus Nijhoff, and distributed in the U.S. by a variety of firms, including A.J. Nystrom & Co. in Chicago and Clay-Adams Co. in New York.

Thanks to Alice Ladrick our department manager for taking the photos. We particularly like the rather jolly-looking snail in the last image!

View other posts from our Biological Wall Chart collection.

View post from our Science Saturday series, initiated by Sarah.

View all posts by and about Sarah Finn, who was also our fine press, botany, and decorative arts editor.

[natalyarose]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓴𝓻𝓪𝓼 & 𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

Many moons 🌝 ago, I used to offer online readings. Chart readings, tarot readings, and drawings lol- but my favourite type of readings to do, were intuitive chakra readings. I loved doing these the most, because it felt like the insight I could offer was a very direct, hands on way of helping others. Astrological readings can be incredibly helpful and even life/perception altering, but chakra readings are just so- personal, hands on. I love the calm and simplicity of: 'okay, here's the problem energetically and here's how to fix it.' No need to get too philosophical or thoughts-y about it, your body knows what's up too. Which brings me to what I set out to write about!

Aside from intuition, one of the glaringly clear ways I've gone about reading people's chakras and identifying blockages, is through body language and tension. Every human being has a unique story, a delicious buffet of personal experiences spanning throughout lifetimes that informs the way they conduct themselves. In my eyes, there's no one rulebook on how energy (chakras in particular) behave, but I can talk about things I've noticed.

There's a lot talked about in the way of Chakras & the energetic body directly correlating to forms of illness, but not as much conversation relating to everyday noticeable ways in which people carry themselves. I love to bridge Spiritual information directly into the physical realm. Connecting esoterica with scientifically known truths in our world, and directly understanding Chakras through body language seen and interpreted with the naked eye feels so natural to me.

So generally, when a chakra is blocked, we're going to see body language and tensions conveying that: clear signs of muscle tension in that area, a look of being closed off or uncomfortable on that part of their body, sometimes body language and conversational hand gestures that seem as if they are trying to distract someone from seeing that area of their body. As humans, we really prefer not to draw attention to our vulnerabilities & wounds. Some people might portray a sense of 'shrinking into themself' in that area. Posture issues. Then of course we're going to see health issues relating to those areas. We're going to see external life experiences and events manifested by that blockage- but that's another story.

I'm going to go through each of the primary 7 chakras and detail physically observable body language signs of blockage:

DISCLAIMER: some of these things alone of course do not immediately point to a chakra blockage, use discernment. Also, you don't need to relate to these things to still have a significant blockage. These are just observations.

Root Chakra ~ Muladhara

This is a difficult chakra for me to keep balanced in my own energetic body, so I'm very familiar with the signs here.

restless legs- someone who's very fidgety, seems a little flighty in their movements, can't seem to sit still or get comfortable.

leaning against walls and feeling a need to sit down a lot - when the Root Chakra is struggling, it can feel like an uphill battle just holding your own physical weight as the Root is meant to be the energetic pillar.

when sitting in chairs, rarely having both feet on the ground- someone with a blocked Root Chakra is quite literally going to struggle to keep their feet still and calm on the physical ground. They're going to be swinging their legs around, sitting on one foot, etc. just things that signify they're not feeling totally grounded and connected to the Earth.

Sacral Chakra ~ Svadhisthana

You know how you get those dudes, usually teenage/early 20s boys who walk around with their pelvic area kinda jutted out? Think of the rappers back in the day who would wear the super baggy pants lol. It sounds odd to explain, but like their core area is sunken in and there is an emphasis on the hip area. That's a sign of an overactive Sacral Chakra to me- or more accurately, an underactive Solar Plexus Chakra & the Sacral energetically compensating (ie. a lack of purpose, will, drive and instead indulging in sex, intimacy, and other pleasures in an addictive manner). A blockage in the Sacral Chakra is going to look like the opposite of this.

withdrawn pelvic area posture-wise. Sometimes the Solar Plexus might overcompensate, so the posture will be strong and even overbearing in the core area, giving a very controlled look visually.

physically standing very seperate distance-wise from others even in intimate conversation.

very rigid, controlled movements. Robotic movements. someone who is struggling to get into a calm, flow state emotionally is going to reflect that in the way they conduct themselves.

often the Throat Chakra is also affected when the Sacral is blocked since the disconnection from flow state will often make a person very restricted with what they say and how they express themselves. So often these people will hang their necks low or hold tension in that area.

Solar Plexus Chakra - Manipura

The Solar Plexus Chakra is the seat of our will, known as the 'seat of the soul'. Manipura relates to the words manipulate, manifest. The Solar Plexus is responsible for animating our being, enlivening us with the energy and drive required to fulfil our chosen purpose. In general, as you can imagine, someone with a blocked Solar Plexus is going to look tired, very sad and dejected, like the energy has been sapped out of them. More specifically, we're looking at:

as mentioned earlier, sunken in core area and sometimes an over emphasised hip area in body language-wise as sometimes when a chakra is blocked, the chakra(s) on either side will become more active or at least seem more active since the system is out of balance.

sunken shoulders- our core area is largely responsible for all of our upper body strength, so when the Solar Plexus Chakra is blocked the shoulders can be very sunken and the arms can look very flimsy, sort of like puppet. It kinda makes sense- if we are lacking the strength in Manipura (connected to the words manipulate, manifest) required to effectively manipulate our own energy and direction, we become like a puppet, easily manipulated.

Heart Chakra ~ Anahata

When the Heart Chakra is blocked, we see a person who has become somehow jaded in their perception of love. I always love using the word 'jaded' to describe a blocked Heart Chakra, because a healthy Heart Chakra is a vibrant, vivacious green.

closed off heart-space physically- bunching the shoulders around the chest area. It always gives me this visual of almost like creating an energetic cave.

tense shoulders and upper back

not meeting people halfway in conversation (like leaning closer to hear better, conversational body language mirroring).

not a lot of use of hand gestures in conversation or if there is, the gestures are punchy and unpleasant rather than gently and graceful.

often with a blocked Heart Chakra, I see the Throat chakra overcompensating, so the posture might look like the head/neck area is jutted out. The neck area may look very red like it's hot (too much energy in the one place). Socially we're going to see a person who is fairly over-opinionated, not very willing to listen to others, callous in their opinions.

Throat Chakra - Vishuddha

The Throat Chakra is the energetic centre correlating to self expression and communication. When this is blocked we're going to see a person who is having a difficult time communicating their truths, needs & desires. We're often going to see:

neck hung low, sometimes shoulders by extension too

hearing issues and frequent miscommunications in conversation

TMJ (jaw tension). Teeth grinding can also be a sign. Just any signs of lack of balance in the whole neck/mouth/jaw area.

classic social anxiety signs such as nervousness maintaining eye contact.

stuttering, forgetting what you were saying in the middle of saying it.

Third Eye Chakra - Ajna

This one gets a little more elusive because of where the Third Eye Chakra is situated, but like with others; often I can sense a blockage when there is a sense of overactivity in surrounding chakras. We'll see issues with the physical eyes sometimes. The third eye is all about perception, perceiving the 'space in-between'. A person who is open to all possibilities and free from bias is naturally going to be fed a consistent stream of intuitive information. Often blockages in the Third Eye actually have more to do with blockages in lower Chakras... eg. someone with a blocked Root may perceive the world as a scary place and lack trust, so they may misread situations, be impatient and skittish and close themselves off to seeing possibilities beyond their fears. You can have a very open Third Eye but tainted perception from other Chakra blockages. Some physical signs of disturbance in this area:

blurry vision, tunnel vision

holding a lot of tension in the brow area, constant furrowing the brow- this however can also be a sign that the Third Eye is overactive (compensating).

Similarly to the Heart Chakra, the energy in the Throat Chakra can sometimes compensate for a blockage in the Third Eye so again we may see someone who physically, posture-wise, etc. puts a lot of emphasis on their Throat area.

Alternatively, the Crown Chakra can overcompensate and we can see someone who bypasses seeing/perceiving their own raw authentic experiences by laying it all down to a higher power.

Crown Chakra - Sahasrara

The Crown Chakra represents our overall connection to the divine on Earth, higher realms, spirit, etc. While the Third Eye is our ability to perceive these things as well as Earthly things, the Crown is our overall connection to the Universe, to God. The Crown Chakra is deemed to sit at the Crown of the head, some say it kinda hovers above the head (I personally feel it to be affecting the entire area). So here are some clues in body language pertaining to a potential blockage:

hanging the literal crown of one's head down low is the main physical body language/postural symptom I can think of right now - I'll edit to add more if I think of it, but like the Third Eye Chakra, the Crown Chakra is more 'elusive' and mental/spiritual in nature.

Thankyou for reading, and I hope this has been interesting or even helpful to someone out there! <3 Energy work & other spiritual matters don't have to be super 'up in the air' and like I said, I love grounding the knowledge. Heaven and Earth aren't as seperate as we think!

[lunarw0rks]

HEYYY just wondering if I can do a request of an experimented reader? (They can be any animal or anything)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Patient 001 // 141 Mini Drabbles

Warning(s): FailedExperiment!reader, gn!reader, medical procedures, drugging mention, kidnapping, blood, injury, death, animal testing mention, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n Word Count: 2.6k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

A/N: I hope this isn't too dark for what the anon requested. If it is, I apologize. I've been interested in this plot line for a bit, and wanted to write something for it!

SYNOPSIS; You're a failed scientific experiment. Once a civilian, now a half-human that had gone through hell. Your other half, now a mutated creature.

To no longer be human would be a blessing. But that part of you stayed, partially. Still terrorized from the experiments, the tests, the documentation of your transformation.

Then came the day you were found.

MISSION BRIEFING; Their orders were simple.

Evacuate innocent technicians — and most importantly — find the location of the catastrophic chemical component, before it ends up in the wrong hands.

What was behind the doors, they'd certainly never forget.

Ghost

His rifle remained raised in front of him as he swept each room. It was obvious the enemy knew they were coming. All he'd found so far were empty sterile spaces, understimulating exam rooms, or numbing cubicles filled to the brim with charts.

Until he heard it.

A sickening screech, like that of a person possessed by a demon. Echoing off the tile walls, much too loud for the lung capacity of a human - and in deep anguish.

Simon's heart stopped when he pushed through the double doors, seeing a huddled figure left behind bars. Not a scientist left behind. Not a prisoner of war. Something.

The glow of your eyes reflected off the blinding white fluorescents, irises matching that of crimson. Your flesh, once human-like, is now sunken and riddled with healed slashes. Most of them self-inflicted, from when you thrashed against your restraints.

When you saw the figure, looming and dormant, it reminded you of the scientists that spent hours observing your changes. How you shrieked when touched when something as small as a pin dropped. Every noise was heightened, making your ears ring painfully. Your hearing could track the sound of potential prey for miles. And your tender skin? Only soothed when you weren't lucid enough to remember the pokes and prods.

Every week, it was a new serum, a new component. Something they would give you to study its effects on your body. Whatever you were, it was a mystery. All you did know was that you craved the metallic taste of blood.

Similar to that of a hungry hound, or that of urban legends that hunt unsuspecting hikers. But you weren't cruel. You weren't a cold-blooded beast that wanted to rip their throats out. That's what kept you around so long.

Your empathy never subsided, like it was supposed to. Your feedings were only that of animal blood or the human samples they gave you in the hope that it would progress the experiment. It never did. It only left you in that cell longer; fearsome and isolated.

"Christ..." Simon muttered to himself, eyes wide. The figure approached the enclosure, his rifle lowered when he observed your fear. He wasn't holding a syringe, not a clipboard, not a video camera, not even a vile of blood for you to choke down. Your vermillion gaze inspected the man with uncertainty, who looked like that of a soldier.

Your fatigued limps crawled across the scuffed cement until you could use the bars to find your feet. Something you couldn't do when the scientists were monitoring you. After so long huddled on the ground or writhing on the cot, it was a relief, if that was possible anymore.

Despite his best judgment, his fingers reached through the bars until they found your fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, his British rasp ringing through your overly-sensitive ears. For the first time in months, you touched the warm flesh of a human hand, not an unempathetic gloved one.

It was a natural reaction to flinch; that primal side of you overshadowing the human one. But you still had the ability to find genuine empathy in his amber eyes. Your hand wrapped tightly around his through the gap in the bars, savoring the once-deprived human contact. "Do you remember your name?"

Price

Price took the riskiest route; the one he wouldn't dare send his team into head-first. The pathway that took him through each of the hidden laboratories — the one only countless hours of digging for intel made him aware of.

It was more chilling than he foresaw.

Rows of exam rooms, shelves of unknown components, countless cages of small animals. All that is expected in a covert scientific compound.

That is... until he stumbled upon a sealed room different from the others. One that could only be inhabited by a human being. He stared in each direction of the hallway, finding a keycard left on one of the bodies.

It was his duty to clear every room, no matter how disturbing the contents would be. Behind the plate glass room that resembled that of an enclosure. A small table and two chairs, a video camera, and most shockingly — the trembling figure in restraints on a thin foam mattress. One who has clearly been poked and prodded for months straight, littered with scars and an almost inhuman appearance.

The man approaching you wasn't a threat, but that didn't stop your body's natural reaction to hide. After months of enduring tests and experiments, being monitored like some sort of creature — it was hard to trust anyone. "My God... What have they done to you?" Price murmured as he approached the cot, fingers finding each tube and removing them one by one.

His expression was one of pity and disgust as his mind imagined all the awful things they put you and your body through. Countless months of research and injecting new components into you clearly didn't turn you into some monster.

You were frightened and in agony — still human underneath it all.

"Can you move your fingers for me? Your legs?" He asked softly, bent down next to your bed. Your shaky fingers finally gained some movement, after he had cut off the constant drip of sedatives. Next, you hesitantly untucked your legs, feeling your bare feet touch the icy tile for the first time in months. It was like learning how to walk all over again, except now you weren't the same you.

Your senses were heightened — smell, eyesight, hearing, and most of all touch. His palm found the small of your back as he led you to the door of your cell, using the keycard he swiped to unlock it from the inside.

As he led you through the corridors, he grabbed a spare lab coat off one of the racks, placing it over your shivering shoulders. No scrubs, no sweats, only a loose white gown. If he wasn't so focused on keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles, he would've given you his own jacket. The entire building had to be kept cool and they hadn't bothered to give you something warmer to wear.

He spoke into his radio, alerting the rest of his team as they combed through the rest of the compound. Right now, his priority was making sure you ended up somewhere safe tonight. "You're safe now, alright? Nobody will put their hands on you again."

Not a place with sterile white walls, a bed to sleep in with more than a thin foam pad, a place where your every move wasn't monitored. A place where the human part of you could feel safe again.

Soap

The power to the compound was cut off when Soap's team breached the tight security system. It was a faulty system — unlocking all the electronically sealed doors instead of the opposite. And the lights, instead of a blinding white, were dim and flickered repeatedly. Most likely the emergency ones.

Enough light to guide you through the corridors, but not enough for his trained eyes to be entirely sure of no threats.

He was using his instincts, his sensory training; all he had to rely on as he crept through the halls. Eerily silent halls. The only sound is the hum of all the technology littering this place and his boots hitting the smooth tile.

Eventually, he found one of the testing rooms; a place that is bound to have some chemical components stored.

Through the glass viewing window, he could see that this space was heavily used. Video cameras, viewing chairs, viles and IV bags stored on refrigerators shelves. Most chilling - the chair with restraints. The one you’d been bound to so many times, poked and prodded by medical tools.

The longer it went on, you felt it more. You weren’t lucky enough to go numb to the pain. It had the opposite effect. Every ache, every stab, every head-splitting migraine.

Soap’s brows knitted together in focus as he maintained his stealth, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of actionable intel. Though this room was dimmer than the rest, with emergency lights even more faulty than the ones in the rest of the building. He had to squint to clear the space in front of him, which hindered the rest of his senses.

Perhaps that's the reason he didn't hear the enemy behind him, or why he got a few stabs into Johnny's abdomen before he managed to fight him off. He slumped against the wall of the lab, comms jammed and unintelligible. Soap had convinced himself this was it, the moment he began seeing double from blood loss.

This was your long-awaited opportunity to escape - the electronic lock on your room failed when the compound was breached. You glided down the corridors, eyes trained ahead of you. What would the world out there be like? Would you ever have a semi-normal life again? This wasn't something you just move on from.

A sharp pain in your abdomen made you wince. But it wasn't pain from a true injury; it was a phantom ache. Someone nearby was hurt — someone deserving of your help.

It was a heavy debate; make your escape now, leave the maimed individual to fend for themselves. But your empathy outweighed your selfishness. The faint distressed prayers got louder as you crept inside one of the testing rooms.

The figure, one of a soldier, clutching his stomach in the same spot you had just felt the pain. Soap's eyes could barely adjust to the person approaching him, only managing a mumble. From his perspective, it must've been terrifying. A gowned, sickly patient with shaky hands outstretched to him.

He made his best attempt to fight you — which wasn't much of a fight at all. You lifted the crimson-soaked tee, wincing as the phantom pain kicked into high gear. The closer you got to a person in pain, the more intensity there was. It was time to use your new abilities by choice. Not one of the scientist's papercuts, not a wound they intentionally inflicted on a lab animal.

Your hands hovered over his inflamed stab wounds, teeth gritted in focus as you knelt next to him. One moment, Soap was delirious from blood loss, sputtering out incomprehensible phrases. The next, the searing in his abdomen reduced to a mild ache.

Then a tickle. And then nothing except the warmth radiating off your fingertips. The stab wounds faded from his flesh right before his eyes.

You had taken away his pain; somehow, in some way.

For a moment, he imagined this was heaven. An angel of mercy escorting him to the high place, though he was always convinced he'd end up in the fiery one. When not blinded by pain, he could finally muster the ability to speak again. "Who are you?" He wanted to ask what you were, but the empathy bleeding from your eyes pulled at his heartstrings. Those eyes; cloudy on the irises. And your sickly features, now filled with more life after healing him.

You were much too drained to answer. It was your first time saving a human in such a critical condition. Healing drained every ounce of energy from you. Before you could answer, he rose to his feet, wrapping one of the stray quilts around your trembling shoulders. "Ye saved my life, it's the least I can do."

Gaz

The raid was by no means straightforward. Nonetheless, it was strange to Gaz how few intel pieces he found. A few files he skimmed, some compelling blueprints — but nothing actionable. Once again, the rules of engagement prevented him from pushing the bounds of the code he followed. Another catastrophe is around the corner with an aloof public, yet there's nothing he can do but follow orders.

But there was more to this facility than met his eyes. Kyle knew it, and his instinct was rarely wrong.

There was a rattle on one of the lower levels, like that of a chair scraping against the floor. A faint scream. Then silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no enemies making callouts, not even his comms alerting him to check that level. It was obvious he was the only one who heard it.

He kept his sidearm raised ahead of him, eyes dancing around the motionless halls of the place. Whatever it was, he was going to find it; with or without following orders. "Anybody down here?" Gaz's own voice echoed off the walls. Still, no sound followed, not while he crept down the flight of stairs. Down the hall, he swept every room, finding nothing and no one once again.

Get out of there, Garrick. There's nothing here.

Price's comm almost swayed him — almost made his shaking hand that was hovering over the last door knob lower. Then he heard another clatter inside the room, one he couldn't ignore, despite his Captain's firm orders to evac.

He could take a serious hit for this, he knew that.

It wouldn't be his first time pushing the limits. Every time he did, he saved someone or something. If he didn't do that this time; he wasn't sure he could handle that weighing on his conscience.

It wasn't an enemy, he would've attacked the Sergeant's weak points by now. Kyle opened the door labeled Observation — his last hope of making this treacherous move worth it. Another shuffle sounded from inside. "If you're in here, show yourself!" The door creaked open as his sidearm remained at the ready, though it quickly dropped to his side when he caught a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

You curled into a ball and let out gasps and whimpers. Around you, a blood trail led up to the body of one of the technicians. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you heard the shots, and his hands were on you. You acted on mere impulse, which seemed to be more common after all the experimentations.

Gaz felt like he had dry-swallowed a big pill. You weren't a hostile, not even a scientist. You were some form of maltreated lab rat — one that had finally snapped and didn't know what to do with themselves.

You raised your head from your hands, showing him your face wrinkled with both fright and shock. An obvious adrenaline high, from what he was seeing. Kyle held out a hand, holstering his weapon as he approached slowly. "I'm here to help, alright?" He spoke cautiously, kneeling beside you to meet your crouched level. His hand found your forearm, tracing a hand over the number tattooed on your skin.

The thought was sickening — a human being meddled with, imprisoned in this place for testing. His instincts were proven right again, yet another person he could still save. It was tempting to act on that instinct again, to put up your walls. But this soldier was your last chance at freedom, and whatever half-normal life you might be able to salvage after all this.

His hands found your waist next, guiding you to a standing position. "You stay behind me and you'll get out of here. I promise you." Kyle spoke to you softly, before leading the way out of there. You'd never seen the outside of the observation room, not once in all the time you had been kept there.

He allowed you to cling to him as he retraced his steps, ascending the staircase. Gaz had saved you — point blank. Any longer, and you would've been an abandoned trial by the scientists, or wrongfully executed during the siege.

No amount of paperwork would make this choice any less worth it.

[tellmealittlelie]

Ocean Deep - Chapter 1

Previous: Preface

TW: Mentions of assault, blood, injury and scientific experimentation of humanoid creatures.

________________________

It was nearing dusk when the little schooner finally puttered into obscurity - no other boats in sight as far as the eye could see in all directions, and land was, at this point, a simple figment of imagination. They had been motoring forward since dawn, and now, just over thirteen hours later, the captain and his crew were absolutely sapped.

Two of the men, at their captain's orders, wheeled over their cargo to the side of the boat, leading the schooner to tip slightly to the side. The men cleared off the clutter on top of the container - a disguise if someone had met them before they had reached their destination, piles of boxes, hooks, bait and rods were cleared to the side and the spare sail that had acted as veil, was removed deftly and flung to the side.

The captain, a stout man, fumbled with his keys before unlatching the padlock and letting in a rush of air to the contents of the container. The captain tentatively peered inside, but seeing that the creature continued to lay unconscious, though, - most probably dead, or at the very least near death - he hummed to himself lazily.

It was a pretty little thing, or at least it used to, and it had certainly been quite useful to study, but now, his toy broken beyond repair, it was time to dispose of it, in the most convenient way possible. He unlatched the side of the box, letting one of the long walls drop down and allowing the blood tinged water to spill out and into the ocean, the creature following shortly after, the water pushing it out and down into the black depths. 

He only let his crew a final moment of reprise before ordering everything to be placed exactly as it had been before and charting a course back to the mainland.

The creature was, as one of the men said to another, out of sight and therefore out of mind. The body would surely fit in with the others of the same species on the ocean floor and their actions would therefore never be traced back to them - and it was easier than burning the thing, lest a scale remain and cause people to start asking questions.

~~~~

As the body slowly sank to the bottom of the ocean, it left a slow trail of blood behind it, tainting the water above it a sickly pale pink. Luckily, no creature reached for the body, the sharp scent of chemicals leading them to swim away rather than closer to inspect the oddity. 

However, not all creatures were repulsed, once the body was almost at the bottom of the ocean - where light was hard to come by - a ghostlike creature steadily approached the body with lightly veiled curiosity.

When he got a better view, he swam closer and after a moment tugged the body closer to him, noting the dull colorless sickly scales and the wounds littering it’s - his - body.

The ghost brought the man closer to his chest and after adjusting his new charge in his arms, took off back towards his den.

He wasn’t sure why, but something seemed to be calling for him to care for the man, to protect and heal his bruised and bloodied skin and brighten his scales to see their true color.

It was only a couple of minutes before he reached his den and he slipped past the barrier easily, before laying the man in a soft nest of collected human scraps; pieces of cloth and delicate seaweed latticework which made the nest homey and comfortable.

The ghost went and gathered his things from the shelves, keen eyes seeing easily in the dark. He slathered on a thick healing balm and then wrapped the wound up, quickly but effectively, with clean, thick strips of seaweed.

As he pulled away he finally noticed a plastic human cuff tightly wound around the man’s wrist. The ghost peered closer until he could read the black, uniforme writing spelling out: S141-OAP.

The ghost leaned back, he knew he was getting himself into something when he took the little merman back with him, but he had thought that he might be more use than problem to him - but now, maybe the baggage that this little thing was bringing along with him was more effort than what he would receive in compensation.

Ah, well, he wasn’t so cruel that he would toss out the bloke now, he would wait till he woke and if he was agreeable to work for him, perhaps he could stay a bit longer, if not, there was a door and he could get the hell out.

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

The ORION team stumbled across a previously undiscovered planet during a routine atmospheric probe. Their spacecraft, equipped with advanced long-range scanners, detected unusual energy signatures emanating from an uncharted region of space. Initially, the readings were faint and erratic but as they drew closer, the signals grew stronger and more distinct, piquing their curiosity. That next morning, before the debriefing, each team member meticulously prepared for the mission. Jorlan started by running diagnostics on all their devices. While waiting, he delved into the latest data collected from their recent missions and analyzed the raw data streams in order to compile the data into a series of comprehensive reports, complete with visualizations to make the information more accessible for the team. Zerath began his day long before anyone else with a demanding training session. Afterward, he reviewed the latest intelligence reports with Zyri. He considered various scenarios they might encounter, from ambushes to environmental hazards, and outlined responses for each. Meanwhile, Zyri tried to decipher the energy signatures to no avail. Velana spent the morning in the laboratory where she conducted final analyses on biological samples collected from their latest expedition. Each observation was carefully documented, contributing to the growing body of knowledge about the new life forms they encountered. Despite extensive records, there was nothing that could prepare them for what was to come. As each team member entered the briefing room, they were greeted by a large, central table surrounded by ergonomic chairs, each equipped with individual data screens. The room’s walls were adorned with interactive displays showing real-time data feeds, star charts, and mission objectives. The central holographic projector hummed to life, displaying a rotating 3D model of the planet they were orbiting. The planet's surface appeared rugged, a vast expanse of reddish-brown terrain marked by deep canyons. Dust storms swept across the surface, creating an 3D render of swirling particles. Velana stood at the center of the room, her eyes scanning the holographic display that projected a detailed topographical map. "Preliminary scans indicate a complex network of underground caverns," she began, "These caverns may harbor unique alien life forms adapted to the harsh, subterranean environment." Zyri tapped her datapad and outlined a few zones of interest. "There are also unusual energy signatures emanating from deep within the caverns. If we can decipher their source, it may open new avenues." Zerath stepped forward, his expression serious. "While the scientific prospects are promising, we must proceed with extreme caution. The unstable terrain and frequent dust storms pose significant risks. We don't know what kind of creatures might be lurking in those dark caverns and any misstep could be deadly. Stay alert and stick to the safety protocols." Jorlan stepped up and tried to surpress a smile as he tapped his handheld device to project schematics on the center console. "Before we go, I’ve got a new piece of equipment that I’ve been dying to field-test: a helmet. It isn’t just about protection; it’s equipped with an integrated augmented reality display, advanced environmental sensors, and a real-time communication system.” He carefully pulled out a few high-tech masks, placing them on the table with a sense of pride. The masks were impressive, designed with a sleek, modern aesthetic that spoke of advanced engineering. The main body of each mask was made of a lightweight, durable material with a matte black finish, giving them a streamlined, almost futuristic look. Across the front, a curved transparent panel covered the mouth area, allowing for clear visibility of the wearer's facial expressions while still providing protection. As the debriefing came to an end, the ORION team geared up and prepared to descend to the planet's surface.

[jesseirl]

REGRETEVATOR OC MASTERPOST

Basic Information + Design

(most recently added information will be highlighted in green)

Description

Me_ATY is an aloof amalgamation of animal meat and misplaced bones. She created her own body to become more human like, though oblivious to human anatomy. She has a very ominous and straightforward personality, and she takes everything literally. Me_ATY has a strong disliking towards Party Guest and Wallter, and a strong liking towards Fleshcousin.

On the Frightening Floor, Me_ATY has a 15% chance of emerging from the fallen floor of the elevator, clinging onto the wall until the floor reappears. For meeting her, you will receive the badge, “IN THE FLESH”

Me_ATY will sometimes blink in morse code, sending secret messages.

When the player shoots Me_ATY with 10 darts, she will bite off one of your limbs dealing 20 damage. Every 10 times you shoot her she will bite a limb off, eventually getting to your head and killing you. For this, you will recieve the “CHOMP CHOMP” badge.

If the player throws exactly 14 tomatoes at Me_ATY, she will bite the players head off.

If Wallter is in the elevator, Me_ATY will take a bite out of his arm.

If MR is in the elevator, she will not enter.

AUDIO + RELATIONSHIPS CHART

Q & A

Q: Why is her name spelled Me_ATY?

A: Me = standing for "Molecular Extraction". This refers to the process of extracting DNA or other molecular material from specimens for cloning or scientific study.

ATY = "All Types of Yields". it refers to different cuts or preparations of meat.

Q: Why 14 tomatoes specifically?

A:When I was a child I ate 14 tomatoes in a row before vomiting

FANART SECTION!

UPDATES EVERY MONTH

(creds in alt txt)

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 14

Tommy comes into the clinic and you offer your medical skills to both him and Joel. Continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-13 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and treatment of injuries from canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI!

Length: 5.4k

Sunday, October 4, 2009 - 3 months later 

You came out from the exam rooms and frowned. It took you a second to place the song just starting on the speakers in the waiting room. 

“Marta!” You said. “Is that Back in the U.S.S.R.?” 

“It is indeed,” she leaned across the front desk. 

“I haven’t heard that song in years!” You resisted the urge to dance in a waiting room with half a dozen patients as witnesses. The CD case was sitting on the desk and you gaped at it. “Is that the whole White Album? Where did you find that!” 

“I didn’t,” she smiled. You smiled too, shaking your head. “Andrew told me to keep my mouth shut about it until Sunday afternoon. Said you’d need it.” 

“He’s a sneak,” you said. 

“He also said you work too much, that you need to stop changing his schedule and that you need to stop conspiring with Jess,” her smile shifted to a smirk. “But I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that today.” 

“Oh I’m sure he’ll tell me himself later this week,” you rolled your eyes, still smiling. 

“You’ve got one in exam four,” she handed you a chart. “And Kristen is in with one in exam seven when you’re done there.” 

“Well, as long as we have The Beatles,” you said, tapping the file on the countertop in time to the music before heading back to the exam rooms. 

It was a small miracle that Jess had actually kept Andrew away from the clinic that day. He’d been almost unreasonably protective since Joel had left three months earlier and with your birthday the next day… You didn’t want to disrupt his life any more than you already had. He needed to do things like have a day off. His life was on track. 

The day after Joel left, you didn’t move. Andrew came by to make sure you were still alive. His knuckles were banged up. You stared at the wall. You slept. You stared at the wall some more. Andrew came back Monday morning, letting himself in your apartment and all but dragging you out of bed. 

“You can come to our place or you can go to work,” he said, standing at the edge of your bed, your face pressed against his stomach as he ran his hands over your tangled mass of hair. “Those are your choices. You need to get cleaned up, you need to get out of bed, you need to eat something. You’re not going to just rot here.” 

“I’ll go to work,” you said softly. 

“Then let’s get ready for work.” 

He walked you to the school, stood outside until he saw you go in the doors to make sure you didn’t just turn around and go back home. You didn’t go get your cup of bad coffee or stop and say hi to other teachers. You just went to your classroom and stared at the wall. Unlike in the schools before the outbreak, they’d let you paint your room. Andrew had helped. There was a solar system in one corner and a forest in another and flowering vines that framed the cracks in the cinderblock. 

Your room was the only one in the building like this. The FEDRA teachers were different than the teachers you were used to before. Everyone decorated their rooms before, doing everything they could to keep students engaged. From what you gathered for the regular schools in the QZ, that was still the case - or as much as it could be in the end of the world. But at what amounted to a military school for orphans of the war on humanity, the bare necessities were all there was. It was part of why you decided to teach at this school. Someone, you thought, needed to be invested in these kids. Why couldn’t it be you? 

So you’d decorated your room. Made a bookshelf and stocked it with things you picked up on the black market that had been brought in by smugglers and let the kids borrow what they wanted - everything from old copies of Scientific American to the Harry Potter books (you were still disappointed you’d never find out how those were going to end.) 

As you stared at the vines you’d painted four years ago, you decided that you couldn’t shut down on these kids. They had no one. You couldn’t just be one more person to leave them. You could be the one person they knew loved them. 

You made yourself smile as your students came in. Just because you didn’t matter to anyone else doesn’t mean that they didn’t matter to you. They were worth it. 

You threw yourself into your work. You picked up extra shifts at the clinic. Before, you had Sundays and Wednesdays off but now, you were there every day. Elias had talked to you twice already about burnout but you’d just shrugged him off. All you cared about was finding something that forced you to keep going, something that made you feel something besides hollow. The clinic and the school could be those things. You’d make them be those things. 

You quickly knocked on the door of exam room four before letting yourself in. 

“Hi there,” you smiled, without looking at the patient for a moment, just opening the chart. You froze. 

“Hey Kid.” 

The door closed and latched behind you. Dear Prudence was playing. 

“Hey Tommy.”

You stood there looking at each other. 

“I didn’t think you’d be in today,” he said eventually. “Thought you didn’t work on Sundays.” 

“I do now,” you shrugged. “I like keeping busy. There are no other doctors here right now but I can do a quick eval and see if a nurse can handle what you need or…” 

“No,” he waved you off. “I don’t have a problem with seeing you if you don’t have a problem seeing me. Wouldn’t blame you if you did but…” 

“I don’t,” you said quickly. He smiled. It reminded you of Joel in a way that made your heart ache while making everything seem lighter. You went to the sink and washed your hands, looking over your shoulder at him as you did. “How’ve you been?” 

“Tryin’ to stay out of trouble,” he said. “Don’t know how good a job I’ve been doing at that though.” 

“Not one of your considerable talents, I will say,” you teased. “What brings you by today?” 

“My inability to stay outta trouble,” he smirked. 

You laughed

“Alright, let’s see it.” 

He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of one side of it. There was a makeshift bandage  around his bicep and you frowned. The blood was dried and the bandage looked like it had been on for far longer than it should have been. 

“Well that’s coming off,” you frowned. “And it’s probably going to hurt. The hell have you been doing, Miller?” 

He just looked sheepishly at you while you unwound the dressing, trying to do so as gingerly as possible. He still winced as the dried blood and discharge pulled on the open wound. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy?” You shook your head, looking over the injury. “The hell didn’t you come see me sooner?” 

“It didn’t seem that bad at first,” he said. “But it hasn’t been getting better and…” 

“Yeah, it’s infected you idiot,” you rolled your eyes, dropping the bandage in the trash. “When did you get this?” 

“Last week?” He winced. You sighed. 

“And why was someone shooting at you last week?” You asked. He went to respond and then glared at you. 

“Never said I got shot,” he said. 

“Yeah, I’ve had a partial shoulder shot, Tommy,” you glared at him. “I know what they look like. Who was shooting at you and why. Please tell me I’m not conspiring against FEDRA by treating you right now…” 

“It wasn’t FEDRA,” he rolled his eyes. “Just… had a run in with some bad people is all.”

You looked at him for a moment. 

“It wasn’t in the QZ was it?” 

He paused. 

“No.” 

You groaned. 

“What the fuck, Miller?” 

“Can you spare the lecture, Kid?” He asked. “Can you fix my arm or not?” 

“Nope, I’ll have to cut the whole thing off.” 

He rolled his eyes. You sighed. 

“Yes, I can fix your arm,” you said. “But it’s going to be a process because you didn’t come see me sooner. It needs debridement, I’m going to do some fairly intensive antibiotics because right now your shoulder is a goddamn Petri dish for a super bug and I want to nip that in the bud and then you’re getting stitches. And I swear to God Tommy if you don’t follow my directions for wound care…” 

“You’re not as scary as you think you are, Kid,” he smirked. “But I’ll listen to ya.” 

You glared at him but went and got what you needed from the supply room and scrubbed in before gloving up. 

“You’re lucky I like you,��� you said, sitting next to him on the exam table as you injected his arm with local anesthetic. He winced. “Otherwise I’d just do this without numbing you up just to teach you a lesson.” 

You got out a scalpel and forceps, testing his arm after a minute before starting in on the infected tissue. 

“That’s disgusting,” he sounded a little sick. 

“Yeah, well, this is the price you pay for being a dumbass,” you said, focused on his arm.

“Your bedside manner is shit, Kid, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“You’d be the first,” you replied, depositing some of the tissue on a sterile cloth and going back in. He laughed. “Hold still or I will take off your arm.” 

He looked straight ahead for a moment while you worked, eyes narrowed, trying to make sure you were getting all the infected tissue while not taking any of the healthy with it. But after a few minutes he looked at you. 

“So how’ve you been?” He asked. 

“Busy,” you said noncommittally. 

“C’mon,” he said. “You know what I’m askin’.” 

You were quiet for a minute. 

“He told you then,” you said eventually. 

“Yeah.” He was still looking at you. You resisted the urge to cry. You couldn’t fuck up your sterile field. 

“Well, I’m still here,” you shrugged as you deposited more tissue on the cloth, giving the wound a final look. You grabbed the saline and went back to it. “May not want to tell him that, it’d probably be a let down.” 

“Look, Joel’s a fucking asshole but he’s not that much of a fucking asshole,” he said, sounding a bit defensive. “He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“He said he never wanted to see me again,” you irrigated the wound and looked it over again. “A lot easier to do if I dropped dead or left town.” 

Tommy didn’t say anything. You put the saline away and got out the suture kit. 

“I’m going to stitch you up now,” you said. “Let me know if you feel anything, I can add to the anesthesia…” 

He just nodded and you started stitching. 

“How is he?” You asked after a moment. Tommy paused a moment before answering. 

“Survivin’,” he said eventually. You nodded slowly. 

“He going outside the QZ too?” 

“Not sure I should be telling a FEDRA doctor anything about that,” Tommy said wryly. You glared a him. “But yeah. He is.” 

“Tommy,” you groaned. “Jesus Christ…” 

“You think I can control a damn thing that man does?” He asked. You glared at him. “We both know he’s going to do whatever the fuck he wants, whatever he thinks is the best thing for everybody because no one else can take care of shit like Joel fuckin’ Miller can…” 

“Been sitting on that feeling for a while there?” You half smiled. 

“Something like that,” he muttered. 

You finished stitching his arm and gave him a shot of antibiotics.

“That’s going to start clearing the infection,” you said. “But I’m sending you home with pills, too. You take every single fucking one of them or I swear I will come and shove them down your throat like I’m drugging a dog. Bacterial infection is a shit show here as it is, I will not let you make it worse because you create an antibiotic resistant strain of super bacteria by not completing your meds…” 

“I’ll take the drugs, Kid.” 

“Good.” 

You wrapped his arm and sat back, looking at your handiwork. 

“Come in like that again and I’m not giving you the anesthesia,” you said, cleaning up your supplies. 

“Well there’s some incentive for you,” he laughed, shrugging back into his shirt. You threw away the trash and your gloves and leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching as he buttoned his shirt. 

“How often are you leaving the QZ?” You asked.

“Don’t exactly have a set schedule,” he said, cagey. 

“Tommy.” 

“Bout twice a month.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“And how often are you getting fucking shot at?” 

He laughed a little and gave you a cocky smile. 

“Bout twice a month.” 

“Jesus Christ…” you muttered.

“They’re bad shots, Kid.” 

“Not that bad.” 

You sighed. 

“I’m only saying this because I know you’re going to keep going out there regardless of what I say about it,” you said. “But next time one of you is hurt and you don’t feel… comfortable coming to the clinic, please get me. I’ll come to you, you can come to me, I don’t really care. Just please don’t get yourselves killed because you’re stubborn idiots.” 

“That go for my idiot brother, too?” He asked, watching you. 

“Course it does,” you said. “Just hit him over the head with a frying pan after taking a thorough medical history so he doesn’t have to see me when I treat him.” 

Tommy snorted, shaking his head as he got down from the exam table. He looked you up and down, a sense of sadness on his face. 

“He’s an idiot, Kid,” he said, meeting your eyes. “I love him but he’s the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.” 

“He’s not,” you half smiled at him. “But I appreciate the thought. Try to make sure he stays in one piece? Look out for him?” 

“I will,” he said, leaning in and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You pressed the bottle of antibiotics into his hand and watched him leave the exam area, staring at the door he left through for a moment before going to the next exam room. 

Your birthday was a Monday. It was hard to not think about the year before, the day that Joel and Tommy made it to the QZ. You’d thought, for a while, that it was a sign that the day might not be cursed. It could hold the best and the worst of life, it didn’t matter. It felt less good now. 

This year, a long workday helped. Your students were particularly well behaved for a Monday. You weren’t sure if they sensed that you were off or if it was just a coincidence but either way, you were grateful for it. The clinic was good, too. Enough patients to keep your mind occupied and body moving, not so many that you were overwhelmed. 

“Not a bad day all things considered,” Andrew said as you finished with your last patient’s chart a few minutes before 10. The White Album was on again. 

“It was not,” you said, perching on the edge of the desk. He leaned beside you. “Thank you for The Beatles, by the way.” 

“Course,” he kissed your temple and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Knew you’d need it.” 

“I come bearing cake!” Jess sang as she came into the clinic, plate in hand. “Andrew said it wasn’t really that kind of birthday but I figure hard days are an even better excuse for cake so…” 

“Any days are a good excuse for cake,” you smiled. 

“My sentiments exactly,” she smiled back. 

The three of you walked to your place and you put on the AC/DC album that you kept at the apartment specifically for when Andrew was being a jerk about your music or needed some cheering up. 

“Awww, real music,” he said as you cut the cake. “You DO care!” 

“Don’t read into it,” you shook your head and smiled a little, passing out plates. You poured each of you a beer and you gathered around your small table. 

“To an honestly not bad birthday for the shittiest of birthdays,” Andrew raised his glass. You shook your head. 

“If society ever returns, you’re not giving a toast at my wedding,” you teased. 

You’d only gotten halfway through your beer and your slice of cake - Jess, as it turned out, was a talented baker - when there was a sharp knock on your door. The three of you looked at each other, frowning. Andrew gestured for both of you to stay put and tiptoed to the door. He checked the peephole before opening it, holding the door against his side so whoever it was couldn’t see in. 

“Are you the Kid?” A woman’s voice you didn’t recognize asked. “I was told to come here and get the Kid, it’s urgent…” 

You got up and went to the door, ducking below Andrew’s arm. He groaned. 

“You couldn’t just stay at the table…” he muttered. 

A woman, about 10 years older than you, was standing there. Her lip was swollen, blood at her arm where her shirt was torn. She looked you up and down, assessing you. 

“You’re the Kid,” she said instead of asked it this time. “Jesus, you are young.” 

“I’m 31,” you said defensively. 

“Huh,” her eyes lingered on your hair. You’d put a ribbon on the end of your braid. “You look younger.” 

“Thanks,” you said wryly. Andrew pulled you back against him, his hand on your shoulder possessively. You crossed your arms. “I take it you know Tommy?” 

“And Joel,” she said. Andrew’s hand clenched you harder. “They need help and Tommy said I should come to you…” 

“No,” Andrew said before you got a chance to respond. “I don’t care what shit they got themselves into…” 

“I don’t think I was asking you,” the woman said. “Look, I don’t have time…” 

“How bad is it?” You cut them both off. She looked you over again. You sighed. “Before the outbreak would you call an ambulance or drive to urgent care?” 

“Ambulance.” 

You shoved past Andrew and went to grab the go bag you kept stashed under your bed for emergency situations where they called you into the field from home. The woman had followed you inside. Jess waved awkwardly from the table. 

“Celebrating?” The woman asked. 

“It’s her birthday,” Jess nodded in your direction. The woman winced a little. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“Hasn’t been a day worth celebrating in a while,” you shrugged. “Don’t know why that should change now.” 

Andrew grabbed your arm and you frowned up at him. 

“You don’t need to do this,” he said. The woman stiffened, sizing him up. You ignored her. 

“Yes I do.” 

He pulled you in for a tight hug and sighed. 

“Don’t let it destroy you.” 

You gave him a stiff nod and hurried out into the night with the woman. 

“Where are they?” You asked, walking quickly to the stairs. “Their apartment?” The woman nodded once. You started down the stairs and you looked her up and down. “Can you run?” 

“There’s a reason I was the one to come get you,” she said. 

You took off for their place the second you were down the stairs, glancing back to see that the other woman wasn’t far behind.

It had been months since you’d ventured into this part of the QZ. You’d actively avoided it. You tried not to think about the fact that it had been more than three months since you’d last seen Joel but you knew it would hurt. His picture was still on your bedside table. You thought about him all the time - when you found a clever line in a book you’d share if he were reading beside you, when you remembered the way he’d touch you without thinking about it because touching you was the most natural thing in the world, when you tried to channel his blunt way of moving through life when something about the QZ was especially frustrating. You’d missed him desperately before he came to Boston. It was worse now. He was so close, close enough that you could be touching him in just minutes and he’d never been further away. You were worried you were going to be stuck like this - longing and alone - forever. 

And you were still running to his side. 

The woman let you into their apartment. Joel was flat on his back in the middle of the living room floor, Tommy beside him with a towel on Joel’s side. 

“Hey Kid,” Tommy said sheepishly. He was bleeding, too, what looked like a shallow knife wound on his ribs. You glared at him, going to the other side of Joel and dropping your pack next to him. 

“I just patched you up fucking yesterday, Miller,” you said. “And this is what you do?” 

“Can you lecture me after you save this asshole?” He asked. 

“Move the towel,” you ordered. “I need to see what I’m working with.” 

He obeyed, pulling the cloth away and revealing a bullet hole in Joel’s stomach. 

“Son of a bitch,” you breathed. “You just had to fucking go outside the QZ again, didn’t you?” 

“I know, I know,” he said. “Please say you can fix this…” 

“I sure fucking hope so,” you looked between him and the woman. “Which of you is better with blood? Both with seeing it and have lost less of it?” 

“I think I’ve lost less,” the woman said. Her fingers were winding around themselves. She was nervous. 

“Good,” you said. “Tommy, move.” You grabbed the bag and went to where he’d been and looked at the woman. “You… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” 

“Tess.” 

“Tess,” you repeated once, nodding. “You’re with me. Go wash your hands like you just swam in a sewer and you’re about to eat a sandwich. Tommy, I need light, a fuck ton of light. And boil water, I’m going to need sterile water.” 

They both rushed to obey while you assessed the situation. Joel was unconscious. You tried really hard to not think about the fact that it was Joel who was unconscious. The bullet wound was your primary concern. You checked his pulse. It was a lot weaker than you wanted. 

“Tommy,” you called. “How many towels have you gone through?” 

“Three, I think?” He called back, running in with flashlights and depositing them next to you. 

“Shit,” you muttered. Tess came back from the bathroom and you pulled a pack of gloves from your bag. “Put those on, hold pressure on the wound. I need to go scrub because I need to get in there.” 

You pulled off your button down shirt leaving just your tank top below and left Tess there, trusting her to follow your instructions. You were still fighting not to panic about the fact that it was Joel bleeding out on the living room floor. You focused on the water running over your fingers, the soap, anything but whose life you were about to try to save. 

Tess was holding the towel against Joel’s stomach when you came back in and you pulled on gloves, getting on your knees beside his body. 

“This is going to be messy for multiple reasons,” you said, looking between Tess and Tommy. “Either of you ever drawn blood before?” They glanced at each other but were silent. “Either of you happen to know his blood type?” 

“You don’t?” Tommy asked. 

“Why would I know Joel’s blood type?” You looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Weren’t you studying for that doctor exam when you were…” 

“Yeah, I didn’t go around memorizing everyone’s blood types!” You closed your eyes for a second. This was going to take a small miracle. “Doesn’t matter. I’m O-, either of you O-?” 

They shook their heads.

“Why’s that matter?” Tommy asked. 

“Because I’m basically a walking blood bag,” you said, cracking your neck. “And he’s going to need a transfusion…” 

“How are you going to transfuse him while operating?” Tess gaped at you. 

“Fucking carefully I guess!” You snapped. “This is going to be a first for me, too, but unless you guys want to move him to the clinic and get potentially executed by FEDRA for leaving the QZ…” 

“Right,” Tess nodded. “Right, OK…” 

“Any other emergent injuries that I should know about besides the gunshot wound?” You asked. They were silent. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright, let’s do this. Tommy, I need light.” 

He held the light over Joel’s stomach and you palpated his stomach, finding the bullet. 

“Tommy,” you glanced up at him. “I’m not sure how unconscious he is, but if he starts moving, you need to hold him down. I don’t have anesthesia and I can’t have him thrashing around when I’m wrist deep in his abdominal cavity. If the call is light or holding him still, drop the light and hold him down, got it?” 

He swallowed hard and then nodded. You picked up the scalpel, took a deep breath, and cut. Tommy made a gagging sound and you ignored him. You located the bullet quickly, lodged in the large intestine. All things considered, he got lucky. It had missed the pancreas, the stomach and the small intestine. 

“Tess,” you said as you got ready to extract the bullet. “I need you to try to monitor his pulse. If it gets any fainter, we’ll have to start a transfusion now. Once I start pulling the bullet out, the bleeding could get a lot worse.” 

You pried the bullet free, trying to move it as cleanly as possible down the path it had entered his body through - easier said than done without the proper tools. And he did start bleeding more. You just hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. 

“I need gauze, from the kit, in the sterile packs.” 

Tess moved quickly ripping it open. You yanked it out and stuffed the wound, giving you time to repair the damage to the large intestine without flooding the abdominal cavity with blood. “He’s getting pale,” Tess warned. 

“Pulse?” 

“I think it’s OK…” 

You nodded, swapping out gauze. 

“Tommy,” you said. “I need that water…” 

He grabbed the still warm kettle, handing it to you. You splashed some on your skin. It was hot but didn’t burn. You cleaned the area and watched to see if he was still losing blood, if there was a repair you’d missed. You were pretty sure you’d caught everything. 

“Good news,” you pulled the gauze from his body. “Damage was pretty minimal and it was a simple repair. I’m going to close him up, then we can just tap into me and finish this up…” 

You stitched him up quickly and yanked the gloves off before switching them for a clean pair. 

“In the bag, there should be a needle pack, alcohol wipes, some tubing and a tourniquet,” you said. “I need all of it.” 

Tess moved quickly again, handing you the supplies. You didn’t have a bag to transition the blood from you to Joel, so you were going to have to settle for a direct transfusion. It wasn’t something that was ever really done anymore, but you’d read enough about it, you were pretty sure you could figure it out. You got everything set up and sat down, your back against the couch, before putting the needle in your own arm. You removed the tourniquet and blood started flowing from you into him. You slumped over a bit, finally able to take a breath. You kept his wrist in your hand to monitor his pulse. 

“He should be largely out of the woods,” you said. Both Tess and Tommy visibly relaxed. “He’s going to need to take it easy for a while. Tommy, those antibiotics I gave you yesterday? Give Joel the same dosage. Track how many you give him, come by the clinic sometime this week when I’m there and I’ll give you another bottle.” 

“Thank you,” Tess was watching you. “For doing this. Your friend was right, you didn’t have to…” 

“Yes I did,” you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the couch. “But I would have anyway.” 

Tommy brought you a glass of water and you chugged it, trying to pay attention to how long you’d been transferring blood and how strong Joel’s pulse was. His color was getting a bit better. Tess and Tommy were talking in hushed tones in the kitchen but you didn’t care. 

You hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d seen Joel without tension in his face. He was soft and beautiful like this. It reminded you of life with him in Texas, when the biggest problems you had were whether or not Sarah should do regular soccer or travel soccer. You had to resist the urge to touch him, kiss him. Fuck, you loved him. You’d always be stuck loving him. 

You decided to enjoy it. You doubted you’d have a chance to see him like this ever again, so you quietly memorized his face, the flecks of gray coming into his beard, the creases around his eyes, the precise arch of his nose. You looked away for a moment to check the status of his incision - relieved to see that it wasn’t oozing blood - when the hand that was in your fingers started to move. 

You tightened your grip on him - not wanting to disturb the transfusion - but watched his face. “Tommy,” you called over your shoulder, still watching Joel.  He and Tess both rushed over, the three of you watching as Joel slowly came round. 

His eyes found you first and you braced yourself for his wrath, but it didn’t come. 

“Hey Baby,” his lips tugged up at the edges. “Did I die? What are you doin’ here?” 

“Not dead,” your heart was racing. “You’re very much alive, despite your best efforts.”

“He doesn’t remember,” Tommy said. “Why doesn’t he remember?” 

“He will,” you said. “He’s just out of it. He probably won’t remember this at all, which is just as well…” 

“Always remember you…” he muttered. He tried to sit up but you pushed him back down. His eyes drifted over you. “Even dead you’re so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Not dead, Joel. Giving you a blood transfusion right now,” you said. “And you just had surgery. You need to lie still for me, OK?” 

“Knew you’d be a doctor,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. “My girl the doctor…” 

“That’s me alright,” you said, feeling light headed. You looked up at Tommy. “Hold him down for me? I think he’s got enough blood now and I can’t stand losing much more…” 

Tommy listened as you stopped the transfusion and got everything cleaned up. Joel was unconscious again, but no longer bleeding out. 

“He’ll need to be monitored for the next 48 hours,” you said, writing out some basic care instructions. “Anything goes to shit, Tommy, you know where to find me. And don’t forget about the antibiotics. We can’t have him getting infected…” 

“We can pay you when we cash in from this run,” Tess said, her hands in her back pockets as she watched you. You frowned. 

“I don’t want your money,” you said. 

“I’m not comfortable owing someone,” she replied. You read between the lines. She wasn’t comfortable owing you, Joel’s ex. Something told you that Tommy hadn’t mentioned the specifics of your relationship to Joel. And Joel had moved on. Of course he’d moved on. There was a stabbing pain in your chest that you’d have to cry about once you were out of here. 

“You don’t,” you said, desperate to go home. “Really. Hippocratic oath and all that…” 

“There has to be something you need,” she said. 

You looked at her, thinking for a moment before settling on something. 

“Can you take me outside the QZ?” 

A/N: Soooooo please excuse any and all medical errors in this sucker. I word for a living (that's right, I write all day at work and then I get on my personal laptop and write all evening because why not.) I know jack crap about anything medical beyond what some googling does and the fact that I binged watched both Grey's Anatomy and E.R. at the start of the pandemic. This is probably a medical disaster area but just act like I know what I'm talking about, OK? It'll be way more fun that way.

Thank you as always for reading! We're into the QZ era of the story which I might be weirdly excited about given the realities of it. I have lots planned for this chunk of the fic and I hope you all enjoy it. I love love LOVE reading all your comments and seeing what you respond to and connect with. Thanks so much for sticking with this story! I love you all!

Taglist (just comment below if you want to be added!): @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter

[saturnine-saturneight]

Writing Share Tag

Tagged by @fortunatetragedy [here] and @rotting-moon-writes [here], thank you :)

Have the freshly edited part of chapter 1 where Nat cons their way into a highly sensitive facility through cold(?) reading.

A door towards the side of the parking garage opens. Their eyes have to adjust to the dim light for a moment before they're able to make out why: a short, blond woman waddles across the concrete and quickly disappears into the booth. Her tired, grey face appears again behind the glass, and Nat has to quickly roll down a window as her mouth begins to move. "—visitors," her voice crackles. "Sorry, what?" "I said, no visitors." Nat looks over their shoulder at the shut gate, the hairs in their neck pricking up. That's just their luck, to hit on a place that would throw innocent visitors back out into a storm. Where on Earth are they, even? A lone building in the middle of the desert. Not charted on the official maps. Mostly built out of steel and concrete, not much stone, and with ugly, greebled walls that all the sand catches on. So probably built around a hundred years ago, maybe longer. Their eyes flick to the space in front of them—the parking lot is too big for a regular researcher team, and too small to hold a whole scientific community. There were also no satellite dishes outside, so this cannot be a weather station. No high towers on the outside either, meaning no space for sentinels to hunker down and guard the invisible containment borders that govern the desert. That means— "We're the water filtration techs you called," Nat lies, hanging their elbow out the window. The guard, a woman in her forties, leans over a table towards them, eyebrow raised. "Sup?" Ron waves to her. "…Cards and identification," the woman purses her lips. Oh, bingo. It actually is a water facility. And there's always something wrong with these damn things, of course they're waiting for techs at any given moment.

I am tagging @writingrosesonneptune @davycoquette and @transthadymacdermot :)

And a warm hello to the Twin Suns taglist!

@fortunatetragedy @cowboybrunch @fairytaleinagem @marlowethelibrarian @gioiaalbanoart

[ascorpiosramblings]

Dear Sputnik

(an attempt at a song inspired fic for Aventurine x Ratio because that's my comfort ship fr)

"Empty

It starts yet again, an endlessly empty day

Lonely

There's only loneliness in this cold atmosphere that drives me crazy

I follow that meteor shower, the compass that leads me

I run aimlessly to find the answer, find the answer

At the edge of my universe, dimly lit

My long wandering finally meets the end, meets the end"

He sat surrounded by star charts. An empty room, save for him, illuminated by a single lamp in the corner. He gazed up at the stars outside his room. The stars illuminated by moon. He sat in his room reading the charts, the chilly air flowing in the window and enveloping his body. It was of no consequence, the familiar cold was simply a guest he had grown accustomed to with all the nights he spent alone. The laurels hung up on the walls spoke for themselves, as they shone even with the dim light of the lamp, all serving as reminders about the time he accomplished a feat in the scientific field. Yet the grand stories don't bring the company of another. If anything it brought about rejection from Nous.

Another special traveler, traversed hardships and emerged the final victor. Running and searching for solace and freedom. Aventurine sat in his office, paying no mind to the reports in front of him. Scoring a win for the IPC was routine for Aventurine. He was no stranger to praise from his coworkers for a job well done, but even being surrounded by people in a room didn't get rid of the cold emptiness that followed him. The stars in the sky were enough to occupy his gaze. The stars were not alone. Something he could only dream of. This emptiness followed him everywhere he went.

"For this assignment the IPC will be collaborating with the intelligentsia guild."

"Oh my Sputnik

It's my fate, I finally found you

Call me destiny

Because I know you are another me"

Aventurine was assigned as the point of contact. He was there to receive members of the Intellegensia guild and guide them to the main office. To his surprise, he found only one man. The person in front of him was a few inches taller with amethyst hair and face painted with a stern expression. He was surprisingly muscular for a scholar in contrast to the small and nerdy mental image in Aventurines head. It was hard not to compare him to an old statue with each and every nook and cranny of the body defined beyond belief. He shook himself out of such scandalous thoughts as he reached his hands out to shake his.

"Aventurine of the Stratagems, at your disposal. Just a cog in the machine of the Strategic Investment Department. Pleasure to make your Acquaintance." "Dr. Veritas Ratio. A scholar and teacher of the Intelligentsia Guild, and one of the mediocres." The two shook hands. Marking the start of something beyond just a business partnership.

Months passed and the one thing Veritas didn't expect was for the blonde man to hold his attention firmly captive. "Life is a grand gamble and I'll always be the Final Victor." That's what he had said. A philosophy so radically different to his calculated approach to life. It was like an unpredictable variable had just entered his perfectly linear equation. But to his astonishment, he wasn't too opposed to the change. His office saw the company of Aventurine, and for the first time, Veritas felt an unfamiliar warmth.

A single warm frozen hand

The moment we hold each other, everything melts

You are my orbit

You're my one and only

Fly through the night sky with you

Sitting in Ratios office, Aventurine looked around, taking in the countless achievements that decorated the plain white walls. Painting the image of a perfect figure of a boy everyone admired, a boy Aventurine could never be. But it was silly considering he wasn't a young boy anymore, such fantasies were simply silly to entertain. Yet the memories didn't stop, he was still reminded of the cold nights he spent all alone, without his parents, without his sister, just alone in his cell, the only feeling coming from the searing pain of his brand.

The cold was replaced by warmth, warmth of a firm hand and a soft fabric. Taking a second glance he saw Veritas closing a window. "If you were cold you simply needed to speak up" The taller man said as he went back to going through documents. Yet Aventurine felt more warmth than just from the blanket. Glancing at him again he could see the soft line highlight the contours of his face, the concentration reflecting from his eyes as he analyzed every line of a paper that seemed insignificant to Aventurine now. It was subconscious how his hand reached out to trace his jawline. When he came to his senses Veritas already had a crimson hue on his face as he froze.

He expected a hard slap, but to his surprise he got Veritas fumbling over his words yet not daring to remove Aventurines hand. Emboldened by this, Aventurine moved his hand, cupping Ratios cheek. "Flustered are we doctor?" He spoke in confidence as Veritas put his own hand over his. Now they had matching scarlet painted on their face. "I suppose it goes for the both of us".

Its as if Aventurine was floating when he came closer to Veritas. But then he came to his senses. They were supposed to be working. His hand came back to him as he tried to calm his beating heart. Yet he wanted to be closer to him, he wanted to hold him. But this was too ambitious. He pulled back for the sake of his heart.

Ratio couldn't control his heart at the moment as well, he could feel heat on his face and ears. There was something dangerously magnetic about Aventurine. He almost wanted to get on his knees and grovel for Aventurines tender affection but for the state of his self respect and dignity he restrained himself.

If I hold hands with you

My wounds become bright signs

Rounding the universe countless times

Our orbits are finally overlapping

We met like it was a miracle 

His frequency in visiting Veritas in his office had increased, that night left unspoken. That office felt especially warm when occupied by Veritas. It had been a few months since their initial mission was completed, though Aventurine still came up with excuses to sit with Veritas.

Though as of late Aventurine didn't visit Veritas as much due to work obligations, a chance with didn't fail Ratios notice. His office was cold without the others presence and Veritas felt it with his every move. Until days later the door swung open to reveal a bandaged blonde Veritas had been waiting for so long.

"What happened ?" He rushed towards the man. "A simple failed Gamble." Veritas caught Aventurine as he slumped against the wall. Guiding his body safely to the nearby chair Veritas scrambled to evaluate his overall health. This unusual worry overcame the normally stoic man seeing the object of his affection in such pain- wait object of affection? Veritas brought his thoughts back into focus as he checked Aventurines overall health.

"You hands are gentle doctor" This remark made Ratios heart go haywire. He could feel the redness on his ears as he focused on the task of caring for Aventurine. "Why are you doing this doctor?" This made Veritas stop. Why was he doing this? He just didn't want Aventurine hurt. But he never did this for anyone? He was already bandaged and tended to so why? "I simply want to know if you're ok"

It had been a while since Aventurine was cared for. The pain wasn't that bad. He had a hot iron leave a permanent mark on his skin against his will after all, so pain was simply an inconvenience that lasted for some time. But Veritas tenderly checking the bandages somehow became an ointment he didn't know he needed. This was what he missed on his mission, the company of the stoic scholar trying to heal his wounds. The tips of the doctors fingers spread warmth in Aventurines body as he quietly let Veritas work. He leaned back, getting comfortable and letting his eyes take a break and drifting off to the land of dreams.

Seeing Aventurines sleeping form Veritas felt unexpected feelings. He was the only person he'd worried for and cared for. When and how did this happen? The answer escaped him. But seeing the sleeping man Veritas realized that this was uncharted territory. He did his best to be stoic but the blonde seemed to challenge that with every move. The way his heart sped up seeing Aventurine smile, the way his voice captivated him more than any song ever could. He was artwork, one that Veritas wanted to keep his eyes on for as long as he could, to study every detail of his perfect face and engrave it in his memories. He wanted to spend as many hours as he could listening to any story Aventurine wanted to tell, to be close to him as they stargazed together. He was in deep, none of his degrees prepared him for feeling such a way.

Aventurine woke up with a blanket around him with his legs propped up on a stool for added comfort. Glancing to his right he saw Veritas hard at work. Aventurine found himself lost in the charm of the scholar in front of him, a charm that even Veritas was unaware of. It felt as if his heart was screaming at him to declare how attractive he found the man in front of him, yet there was always his voice, reminding him how everyone he loved once are now gone, all of it was his fault and that he'd drive away Veritas too. The pain of old memories found their way to his neck as if chocking him again. Suddenly he was all alone as he drowned, stuck in a prison of his own making. His heart sped up and he could feel perspiration on his palms. As if this was even something he'd deserve in a million years. But he was a gambler at the end of the day, he had to take the chance even if it was slim.

"Veritas, this probably is very stupid of me but I really like you and want more than...whatever we have"

In a crumbling world, I found a star called 'you'

A/N: If you guys like it let me know if you want a part 2, with the rest of the lyrics.

Also I am taking requests if you have any

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @eridanidreams .

If you are reading and have a WIP you would like to share please do!

Tag!

my wip is the next installment of the Sam Coe x Doc Melody fic.

Here's the ao3 version

Words: 1,303 Contains spoilers for the UC Vanguard questline and early main story mission.

“I have just as much right to those maps as anyone else in the family,” Sam shouted at Jacob.

Cora sat at the table, munching on some candy Jacob gave her. Sam had asked her to let him handle it but Cora wasn’t one to stay quiet, “It’s important, Grandpa. There might be a huge scientific discovery in the Nest and we’ll only know if we get there.”

“You’re not going to the Empty Nest,” Jacob spun on her, “it’s too dangerous.”

“Of course she isn’t, Jacob. I’ll be going with Sam,” Jamie said with a smile.

“You are?” Sam looked over at her, trying not to look too shocked.

Jacob scoffed, “You may have been raised in Ashta country but you’ve been softened by decades of desk work. The fringe would eat you alive.”

“I see you’re still projecting your own insecurities on others?” Jamie tilted her head to one side, “my research takes me to corners of settled space infested with spacers, crimson fleet, and just plain cranky, trigger happy survivalists regularly. Not to mention the xeno plentiful planets I’ve surveyed. I may appear soft, but I’m more than capable in a fight.”

Jacob stared for a moment, looking her over and trying to gauge whether she was bluffing. “Ashta aren’t spacers.”

Jamie rolled her eyes, “No, they’re big, chitin covered stalker predators that sit at the top of the food chain on Akila. And I’ve been facing them with shotgun in hand since my Dad figured out I could fire one without falling over. Stop trying to paint me as some fragile desk sitter when I’m anything but.”

“I’m not handing over the maps.” Jacob crossed his arms, “I will not let you two plunder the family legacy for profits.”

“What profits?” Sam shouted once more, throwing up his hands, “we’re trying to see why the place is void of life.”

“It stands to reason there is something there. Something you’ll run off with and ruin the Empty Nest forever.” Jacob glared at Sam. Jamie sighed and rubbed her temple. Sam went to yell some more but she held up a hand. She took a deep breath and looked at Jacob,

“You’re right, there is something hidden in the Empty Nest. And that thing is disruptive both to modern tech but also to the sensitive sensory organs of xenos like Ashta. That makes it incredibly dangerous for Akila City.”

Sam looked puzzled at her but held his tongue.

“It hasn’t hurt the city in 200 years,” Jacob said with a smug look.

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t mean directly. Use your head, Jacob. If the Empty Nest can’t be detected with tracking scanners and also isn’t full of Ashta then what might fill it’s walls?”

Jacob just stood there glaring.

“Sounds like a good place to hide things,” Cora said from the table with a wink, “maybe those dummies Dad talked down at Galbank were hiding there before coming to the City to rob it.”

“Exactly,” Jamie smiled, “smugglers already love caves. Finding a cave that can’t be traced is like natural shielded cargo. You can put whatever and do whatever you’d like.”

“Anything that is strong enough to deter Ashta would deter people,” Jacob insisted.

“Then how did Solomon find it?” Jamie asked. “Why doesn’t the story include him getting headaches or hiding the location due to dangers. No, he charted its location and talked about it openly because he wanted someone to follow-up on it. Sam is trying to do just that and you’re stonewalling him.”

“You aren’t getting the maps!” Jacob yelled.

“You owe me!” Jamie snapped back.

Jacob blinked. Then he shook his head.

“Yes, you do. And I kept the value estimates on those pieces I gave you. Maps or the full credit value.”

“You know I can’t…”

“Other option is I take up the matter with Leah. Let her know the arrangement and how you’re flaking out.”

“You wouldn’t dare, those where donated.” Jacob was losing color.

“I let you donate them under the agreement I would get something of equal value back.”

“You really think the maps are worth the old things you gave gramps?” Cora asked.

“I do,” Jamie didn’t break eye contact with the old man.

“The agreement was a favor. Like getting you access to a restricted site or…”

“Maps will do. Less work for you too, I know you’re getting up there in years and just want to kick back with a whiskey in hand.” Jamie was now the one looking smug.

Jacob looked like he was chewing his tongue, the silent tension suffocating the room. He reached into his suit pocket and threw a keycard at Sam, “for my office. Take the damn things and go. Cora stays here while you plunder the nest.”

“Was already the plan,” Sam caught the key and hurried to the office door.

“I don’t want to hear any whining about either of you getting hurt,” Jacob said to Jamie.

“Gramps, the Professor has fought terrormorphs, she can handle a few ashta.” Cora was walking over from the trash can as she spoke. Sam stopped just outside the office doorway, the maps now in his hands, and stared slack jawed at his daughter. Jacob shared a similar look.

“It’s a whole section in her latest book on biological threats to humanity from ancient times to now. She fought her first terrormorph on Tau Ceti when she went out to a meet people at a meat processing plant in a tiny colony for other research. The whole colony was dead except for one guest, a xenobiologiest named Hadrian Sanon and—“

“We’ve heard the SSNN reports about Tau Ceti, sweetheart.” Jacob said, “they never mentioned Dr. Melody.”

“I personally requested anonymity during the ongoing crisis. SSNN and FC outlets aren’t known for giving space to instant celebrity and if Hardian and I wanted any chance at solving the puzzle when we needed them to steer clear. After it was over I got permissions from the UC cabinet and the amnesty board to write about my experiences.”

“In the book she wrote about how it felt to have a terrormorph try to hijack your mind. How it made her hear things and see things and at times seemed to pull at her limbs but she was able to resist like Major Sanon and put the monsters down. And one of the Terrormorph in Londinion summoned an ARMY of xenos that burrowed out from under the ruined spaceport and they had to activate this old radio towers to play a frequency to drive them off while also fighting the massive thing.” Cora pointed at her dad, “they had the body of that one on display in the MAST district for a while, remember? We went to see it with Noel and Barret. It was HUGE!”

“It was huge,” Jamie agreed as she closed her eyes a moment and breathed, “wasn’t immune to shotgun blasts.”

Cora let out a bubbling laugh, “No it wasn’t! Blam, Blam, Blam and down it went!”

Sam tripped on his words as he tried to steer the conversation away from thoughts that terrified him, “alright, I think we all now know Doc here can handle herself so lets us go and find the nest. You were right, by the way, it’s smack dab in Shaw territory so we’ll need to be ready for xeno and human resistance.”

“What?” Jacob looked insulted. Not at what Sam said but the idea that Shaw could be set up on perceived sacred ground.

“You heard me,” Sam growled, “Jamie was right.”

“Alright you two,” Jamie winked at Cora and then strolled up to Sam and tugged his arm, “Let’s swing by my ship so I can grab my equipment and then we’ll go empty the Nest.”

[astroshitter]

moon dominant in the birth chart

Dominant Moon- The dominant moon people are often sensitive and are inclined to big mood swings. they are likely emotional and deep. If you got a dominant moon energy in your birth chart, then you are likely to be idealistic and constantly looking for perfection. Your strength comes from the ability to find common ground between opposing forces that others see as irreconcilable. Those born with the Moon dominant in the chart are strongly influenced by the Moon, especially the full moon transits alongside their natal moon phase in transition. At times when the moon is full, the effect will be natural to the individual's personality, since it is its complete phase, those affected by the moon also experience ebb and flow in the theme of the house their natal moon's located in deals. it is also likely to deal with the zodiacal sign's theme in which their moon is placed in a much greater influence then other charts. Although, dominant moon also brings nice qualities such as sensitivity to others, nurturing, sentimentality and potential talents in bakery, cooking, decoration, consultation, intuitiveness and with some aspects even music. Now, on the downfalls it contributes to sometimes inclusiveness, strong emotions that can form the basis of any internal conflicts(but good relations with the self as well). As ruled by the moon this may be difficult because it brings dissonance between the ego, which is represented by the other luminary (the sun), to the emotions and subconscious (moon). You are often torn between your need to respond and your contained emotions, this may be the source of most of the conflicts between you and anyone you know, the problem is that even when you try to do things for yourself you run into a blocking psychological wall, because you feel that your desires are contrary to your deep loyalty to the people you love. Probably when you were younger, you were more analytical and skeptical, with time and the years that will pass you will be able to find the place to include things that have no scientific explanation, with increased subconsciousness and spirituality in your life.

[thoughtportal]

What all these women have in common is that they’ve become fixtures in Western institutions in the past few years. Houghton is currently the subject of a show at Australia’s Art Gallery of NSW that finds a parallel for her drawings in the abstractions by Wassily Kandinsky, a much better-known artist. Blavatsky’s name recurs regularly in texts for exhibitions, including the 2018 retrospective for af Klint at New York’s Guggenheim Museum, which became the most well-attended show ever staged there. It turns out you can cram all this art referencing invisible worlds, spectral figures, and more into museum walls, those hallowed settings where art history is made.

Is there any way to free these women from the deadening force of the canon? Higgie makes a valiant attempt by writing something that is not necessarily a history. The Other Side broadly has a chronological structure, but it does not always move from Point A to Point B, as a textbook might. Partly, that is an attempt to reflect the very nature of this art itself, which, as Higgie points out, resists rationality and scientific study.

[lordisitmine]

TTNBD BLOG PART SIX

This blog covers chapters seven and eight of the story.

CHAPTER SEVEN – SUMMONING CIRCLES

Black Butler was one of my first fandoms. Not my first anime, by any means, but one of the first series of any kind that I consumed fan content for. I was new to the world of fanfiction back then, certainly not writing it yet. But some of the first fanfiction I read was Sebastian/Ciel.

The first fandom I wrote for was Supernatural. If you look at my works catalogue on AO3, you’ll see it’s the one I’ve written for the most as well. While it wasn’t my first fandom, I consider it my first in that it was the space in which I began to explore and hone my fanfiction writing abilities and specialties. I consider it my origin fandom, in a way. That series, its worldbuilding (or lack thereof) and its tropes make up the background from which I come.

So, when it comes to writing things about rituals and demons and other such things, I’m well-suited to the task. As I said in the last blog, I have an aversion to such things in reality, but in fiction, I’m old hat. I could say I researched ritualistic magic or the occult and took great pains to make it seem accurate to what may have been attempted in real life. But that would be a lie. When it comes to the ritual Lizzy and Sybil perform to summon Sebastian, I really just stitched together bits and pieces from stories I’ve read in the past, seen on TV or intuited from my own hypothetical actions were I in such a situation.

I have several 1899/1900 calendar pages on my wall in my writing space of the months in which the story takes place. It allows me to clearly and easily visualise the timeline of events and not lose track of them, all for the sake of maintaining proper continuity. I like to include references to actual events when appropriate. When Sybil mentions that the night of January 8th, 1900, is the first quarter moon, that’s true! I looked up the lunar charts for January 1900 and picked the soonest day when the moon was doing something definite so I could use it for the ritual. It’s amazing that the information about the phases of the moon from over a hundred years ago is available to us!

Sybil describes the balance of nature, how the sun and moon will be in the sky at the same time, and that will create harmony within the heavens. Lizzy refers to it as “a sort of homeostasis”. Homeostasis is a scientific term used in biology to describe the process by which a living organism maintains stability within itself while adjusting to varying external conditions. The term wasn’t coined until 1926 (I looked it up) but it’s a cool word and I wanted Lizzy to say something smart, because what’s the point of her going to medical school if she hasn’t become a bit of a nerd?

Also, it gives Sybil an excuse to mentally swoon. That, and the bit with the jam. I was trying to keep up the romantic tension and not let it get lost in the plot.

And then DRAT! They are interrupted by Simeon! He’s been out all night- doing what, we just don’t know. I won’t say it here but trust that in the final arc of the story, we’ll get more explanation about Simeon’s activities. Sybil is lying to her dad, thinking he wouldn’t approve of her frankly insane plan. And she’s right- he wouldn’t, but not for the reasons she thinks.

And now, it’s time for the BURNING BRIDES case! This is the case covered in the third episode of the second season of the Black Butler anime, entitled “Wench Butler”. A couple of readers have asked me how I came up with the case, and it reminded me how few people have watched the second season, or at least how few people remember it. I also have not watched it in many, many years, but I’ve taken so many pieces of it for this story.

In the episode, Ciel is assigned a new case by the Queen. There have been a few suspicious deaths- young women, all recently married, have been dying via spontaneous combustion- a truly horrific way to die, if you ask me. In her letter, the Queen mentions her “Spider”, and Ciel is intrigued, not knowing who this other investigator might be (it’s Alois).

Ciel and Sebastian eventually figure out that the victims all had their portraits taken by a pair of photographers- a married couple, the Turners. Margaret Turner, the wife, always wanted a passionate, romantic marriage, but hated her husband and her life and resented these women for their happiness and youth. So, she uses phosphorous powder, normally ignited to make the flash necessary for photography at the time to immolate her victims. When caught, she states that there was “a man with golden eyes” (Claude) who told her that the commission of these crimes would bring her happiness and that he would come to take her away from her sad life. She then commits suicide via the same method she used for the murders.

I kept most of this and just reworked some of the timing and conversations. There was a scene in the episode where Sebastian and Ciel run into Grell Sutcliff- I wanted so BADLY to have Grell appear again, I love her so much, but it was messing with the timing and tension, and it was just a whole extra scene to write, and I wanted to keep the story going. Also, trying to cram in every single character cameo I can think of would muddy the waters too much in my opinion. So, I left it out.

But I wanted to include the case itself. I always really liked the concept of it. And I specialise in re-working canon material. I’ve never been a huge AU person (i.e. high school AU, modern AU, coffee shop AU etc.)- I don’t write them (I think I wrote a Steve/Bucky coffee shop AU ONCE, for a request), and I don’t read them. Everything I write is within the canon of the series I’m writing for; I find that space much more rewarding to play in because there are rules you must stick to but still so many possibilities for what you can achieve and finding that balance is super satisfying. Things like soulmate AUs and stuff are my favourite though because again, they can exist within the boundaries of canon but make things so much more exciting in their own way.

Anyway, enough of my tangents. Back to the story. Ciel and Sebastian are investigating, being cute at a crime scene (what else is new) and they’re being watched. Ciel is not as good at being subtle as he thinks he is, so Claude was able to pick up his scent when Ciel was following him and Alois before- and they’ve decided to return the favour. But they’re also not as subtle as they think they are- cue a rooftop chase.

I like to think that Ciel is really fast. Like, I know Sebastian is fast- we see it all the time. But something about Ciel being slightly smaller makes me think that he might be able to move that much more quickly, though Sebastian will probably never admit it. I can’t wait for the later chapters of the story where Ciel begins to hone his skills. He hasn’t had a reason to properly learn how to move and fight- he and Sebastian have been living in peacetime, so to speak, since the end of TTEOE. But running fast doesn’t require a lot of practise, so Ciel catches Claude and Alois pretty easily.

Good God, Ciel remarked. Is that how I looked all those times you had to carry me?

No. You were far more distinguished.

Why do I get the impression you’re only saying that to spare my pride?

Sebastian looked facetiously wounded. You know I am incapable of telling a lie.

Ciel scoffed. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Just popping that in there to tell you once again how much I love writing banter for these two. It feels so correct, it practically writes itself, really.

I couldn’t decide whose POV this conversation should happen from, so I switched throughout. I try to be careful when I employ this technique- it can quickly make things a little soupy, for lack of a better term. But I wanted this exchange to have observations from both Alois and Claude. Alois is trying to be brave while internally pissing his pants, and Claude is falling into a quick and disgusting obsession with Ciel, which is also taken directly from season two of the anime.

I couldn’t resist having Ciel comment on Claude’s name. A Faustian demon having the last name Faustus is the most basic-bitch bullshit, and I would expect nothing less from Alois Trancy.

I loved writing Alois and Ciel’s exchange. They’re both such spitfires, stubborn and bitchy and uncooperative. The funniest part of the conversation to me is the fact that Sebastian and Claude are standing no more than six feet away, glaring daggers at each other and ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. I just imagine those wavy red lines radiating off of them like you see in an anime when a character is frustrated or angry.

If it wasn’t clear already, Claude is straight up lying when he says that Sebastian murdered Alois’s brother. This brings up another topic I wanted to discuss, which is the thing demons are always saying about how they don’t lie. I always just assumed that statement itself is a lie, and that’s the joke, right- lying when you say you don’t lie? Obviously if a demon’s master gives them an order to answer a question honestly, they would have to, but outside of orders, I think demons can just bullshit all they want. Especially demons like Claude, who are already disloyal to their masters and stretching the limits of their contract’s rules to the absolute limit In order to complete their own goals.

Claude telling Alois that Sebastian killed his brother is also straight out of the anime- he lies to Alois there too, so I don’t feel weird about doing it in this fic. Demons are creatures of treachery, after all, and will ultimately do what’s good for themselves in the end. The only question is, why would Claude lay they blame on Sebastian? What could he stand to gain? Questions, questions, questions…

As I said before, for a lot of this summoning ritual, I’m writing off the top of my head. The thing about salt is true, though- salt is a purifier/preservative, so it’s often considered to be symbolically protective. Pouring salt lines in doorways and windowsills will supposedly protect a household, as no evil can pass through the barrier. That’s a thing in Supernatural, but Supernatural didn’t make it up, is what I’m saying.

The way I imagine this ritual works is like: Lizzy focuses on Sebastian. Sybil reaches into her brain with her witchy powers, connects to the spirit network and just pulls really hard on the threads of the universe until Sebastian appears. That’s all pretty vague but I don’t really think the specific mechanics of the ritual matter all that much. It’s magic, don’t worry about it.

The rest of this chapter was one of the first things I wrote for this fic. Not the very first- The scene in chapter one with Lizzy at Ciel’s grave was first written in 2019 (!!), but the first draft of this chunk of chapter seven is hand-written (I handwrite a lot of my fic) and dated as May 2022. I hadn’t yet figured out what the circumstances were for Ciel and Sebastian even being in London, or why they’d been talking to Claude, but I knew I wanted them to be making out when Sebastian got yoinked. It’s just very funny to me. Someone commented that it’s good Sybil and Lizzy didn’t wait much longer to start the ritual, or Sebastian would have been buck-ass naked when he showed up, and that gave me a good laugh. I hadn’t thought of that.

I love Ciel making Sebastian jealous on purpose. They both like annoying each other, it’s an Olympic sport for them, but we all know that Ciel secretly (or not so secretly) loves how possessive Sebastian is. He loves being needed and wanted and owned and *screams* I love writing it. Makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It was important to me that Sebastian show up in Sybil’s attic looking like an angry wet cat, only not wet. Frazzled maybe. He just got dissolved and pulled through space and then reassembled in a strange environment. You’d be frazzled too. I feel like I succeeded with my sketch.

Now that Ciel is a demon, it’s fun to have Sebastian be the one in danger because there’s actually more Ciel can do to save him- though his inability to really fight or anything is going to be a problem that needs rectifying (we’ll get there). He is, however, perfectly capable of smashing through a window and scaring the shit out of Lizzy and Sybil.

I knew from the very beginning that I HAD to have the moment Lizzy finding out Ciel is still alive be a cliffhanger at the end of a chapter. Nothing else would have done it justice. She was gagged. Gooped. Face? Cracked. Wig? Snatched.

CHAPTER EIGHT – A SOUL NO LONGER LIVING

Another Simeon flashback! I love writing these. I’m very fond of Simeon, much more than I thought I would be, considering he was basically only created to be a vehicle for exposition and plot continuance. We also get more insight into Ada, who I also love. I’m actually chipping away at a spin-off one-shot about their first few days together after making their contract it’s literally just porn but that’s beside the point. It’s quite a different dynamic than any other demon/master relationships that are seen in canon- but if there are many demons running around in the world, it would stand to reason that their contracts and relationships would be as diverse as they are.

In truth, I have ideas/intentions for a few spin-off one-shots of varying lengths for this universe. Don’t worry, I’m going to focus on finishing the main story first! But I’ve never been this excited to expand on a fic before. It’s a neat feeling, and I hope my readers will follow me along on the journey, even though I’m really just happy to write these ideas down for myself!

Ciel bursting into the room, dropping a “surprise, bitch” on Lizzy and then immediately ignoring her in favour of Sebastian is just very Him. I wanted this whole scene to be from Lizzy’s POV because again, I love that outsider shit, and she’s the one with the most new and overwhelming thoughts at this moment. As if it wasn’t enough that Ciel is alive, she suddenly sees him and Sebastian kissing- it’s a wonder her head didn’t explode! But that reveal was less surprising to her. Ciel and Sebastian were always… weirdly close, so she can’t claim to be too shocked.

He approached her, and she flinched. She never would have before- she would never have thought to be afraid of him- he would never have struck her. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. There was some power, some darkness radiating from him that made the basest part of her shy away.

When I wrote this, I had fully forgotten the scene early in the anime when Ciel does totally reel back to slap Lizzy and Sebastian has to stop him. It’s a small thing, but I was kicking myself about it when I realised my mistake- nobody’s perfect, I guess.

“The eyepatch you wore,” Lizzy said, and then felt quite stupid. “It wasn’t from an injury, then.” Tears began to burn in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “That was a lie as well.”

Here, at this moment, we get Lizzy’s emotional hang-up for the rest of the arc- the fact that Ciel lied to her. For the record, I didn’t even expect her to care this much. She just would not let it go, even when I tried to write her letting it go. Sometimes characters and stories develop a mind of their own, and you have to follow their lead until it comes to its natural conclusion.

I know a lot of readers were annoyed by Lizzy’s unwillingness to just get with the program already and believe me- I was also annoyed! But I also felt that it was more accurate to her character, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice that for the sake of making readers a little less annoyed. Sometimes characters are gonna do stuff you don’t agree with. That can be interesting. And sometimes, the consequences of their stupidity or stubbornness can be all the more satisfying as a result!

Thankfully, before things could devolve into even more arguing, Simeon shows up and the boys quickly bounce. Sybil telling Simeon that it was a bird that broke the window is another pseudo-reference to the fact that Ciel, to me, is a phoenix. He’s the big bird lol.

Alois is of course enchanted by the idea of immortality- if anyone would be looking for a way to weasel out of having to give up their soul, it would be him. Claude, of course, has no intention of ever doing something like that. He’s anti-love and anti-fun in general, to be honest. What a buzzkill.

I’m not going to go too into detail about Hannah’s revelation about this weapon, as there are things about it that have yet to be revealed in the fic itself. I’ll leave that for later commentary blogs. Rest assured, this weapon is bad news.

In a comment on this chapter, someone pointed out that at the moment Alois and Claude are discussing mating bonds and such, Ciel and Sebastian are back at their hotel having emotional, life-affirming floor sex. The juxtaposition of those two images made me laugh. If this was a show, you could have a hard cut between Claude being like “Romance is dumb” BOOM Ciel and Sebastian fucking. It’s hilarious to me.

Anyway, this scene was so self-indulgent to me. Sometimes you just gotta write stupid mushy shit, okay? They’re so in love with each other *cries*

“How can you say such things?” he looked at Ciel mournfully. “How can it be that I’ve failed you so, that you believe these lies about yourself?” He reached up and pushed matted, wet strands of hair away from Ciel’s eyes. “You have proven time and time again to be my saviour and my solace. You are and always will be the very reason for my existence- the purpose for which I live and breathe- whether you are of any use to me or not.”

What’s that meme that’s like “Do you like soul mate AUs or do you just struggle with your self-worth and are obsessed with the idea that someone could love you no matter what”? It’s me. I have exposed myself.

I think Ciel likes pain, like, in a sex way- at some point, all the shit he went through must have crossed wires in his brain- but in this scene, it was more about his need to feel something, anything, to remind him that he and Sebastian were both alive, and real, and safe and together. And it affected him so deeply that his blue flames came back, even for a second!

I didn’t intend for Ciel’s powers to be a part of the story, but I realised early on that Ciel needed some kind of internal conflict to give him a character arc as well as the external conflict of solving murders etc. I’m excited to get into it properly in the final arc of the story.

Sebastian, a demon, reciting scripture will never not be amusing to me.

“And they shall take of the blood and strike it upon the two side posts and on the upper doorposts of the houses… for I will pass through the land of Egypt in the night, and I will smite all the firstborn, both man and beast.”

The passage he is quoting is from the Old Testament book of Exodus, paraphrasing verses from the twelfth chapter. It’s the command God gave to Moses for the Hebrew people, which led to what became the first Passover. The Hebrew people were in slavery in Egypt, and God sent the ten plagues of Egypt, and the final plague was that God passed over the land of Egypt, and every firstborn human and animal died, all in one night. This is what made Pharoah finally break down and let the Hebrews go.

The Hebrew people themselves were protected from the plague because they sacrificed a lamb and used its blood to mark their doors so God would know they were his people and not harm them when he passed over. Thus, the term “Passover”.

Sebastian, using his blood to mark the walls and keep them safe, found it a cheeky, fitting reference. And yet again, he STOLE something.

Cambion is indeed a term for a being who is half-demon, half-human. The term originates in European mythology and was originally used interchangeably with the word ‘changeling’, a mythological creature that replaced a human child, but later came to mean a demon-human hybrid. The most popular use of the term is the creature from Dungeons & Dragons, a humanoid creature with bat-like wings and horns and a devil’s tail.

Obviously, Sybil doesn’t have any of those physical attributes, but her demon heritage is what makes her capable of seeing the dead, as well as her intuitiveness and her ability to successfully perform rituals like the one that summoned Sebastian despite the fact that she’d never attempted anything like it before in her life. Witches in general are just humans with an affinity for the spiritual, but Sybil has heightened abilities that can only be attributed to her non-human genetics.

I ended this chapter on another sort-of cliffhanger- I hate writing normal endings to scenes, it always feels awkward, so I always end up doing this haha. I hope it doesn’t get too annoying or boring. Like right now, for instance, me not knowing how to end this blog post.

Okay, bye, see you all next time!

[flimflamfandom]

Room Mates (vignette)

Ivy Pepper stared at the wall in her dorm room, and grumbled as she wiped the chalk off with cloth. “You’re lucky I took a picture of this, Helen, or my homework would be RUINED!”

“You’re lucky I even let you write up there in the first place!”

Ivy furiously scribbled down notes from her notebook, after VERY quickly getting some fi;m developed. She grumbled to herself as she worked. “Stupid Helen...bet she can’t even SPELL Nodal!”

Ivy had been working hard at a few problems her projective geometry teacher had given her, all to do with Self space dual curves. She HAD been working the math on the wall and writing the shapes onto graph lined paper. But Helen, the STODGY WENCH SHE WAS, had demanded she wash the wall off. So, she was back to work, trying to get her numbers down. 

Helen looked over her shoulder at her work. “That Y should be negative.” “I know it should be negative.” “Then why didn’t you write down that it was negative?” “Because I KNOW it’s supposed to be! You already bungled my process once!” “...is this really about that boy?” Ivy scoffed. “What? No. I don’t care WHAT you think about him. But I DO care that now I have to waste notebook pages like some sort of PHILISTINE!” “Yeesh, what is it with you and the chalk anyway!?” “The boys won’t let me into the workrooms! You know how boys are.” Ivy sighed. “Mathematics is a woman’s world and here they are, traipsing around like they own the place because every other science BeLoNgS to them.” She grumbled. “Makes me wanna hurl ‘em through a window.”

Helen shrugged. “I never knew anyone considered Math a girl thing.” “Sure, Emmy Noether?” “...who?” “The woman who figured out Commutative rings?” “...whats?” Ivy sighed, and opened up another sheet of notebook paper. “Commutative rings,” She said. “Are any ring in which multiplication is commutative.” She wrote a few things down. “So AB=BA for any B or A value.” “...You lost me at rings, actually, where do rings come in?” Helen turned her head to one side. “It’s a nonempty set with 2 operations and fulfilling certain requirements!” She began to write something down. “Here’s what you need for a ring.”

She hastily wrote, her tongue out, her eyes determined. Until she came up with...

1)  If a∈R and b∈R, then a⊕b∈R.

(2)  a⊕(b⊕c) = (a⊕b)⊕c

(3)  a⊕b=b⊕a

(4)  There is an element 0R in R such that a⊕0R=a , ∀a∈R .

(5) For each a ∈ R, the equation a⊕0R=a , ∀a∈R . a ⊕ x = 0R has a solution in R.

(6)  If a∈R, and b∈R, then ab∈R.

(7)  a⊗(b⊗c) = (a⊗b)⊗c.

(8)  a⊗(b⊕c) = (a⊗b)⊕(b⊗c)

...the rules for rings.

“...wow. That’s...a bit much, don’t you think?” “It’s not SO bad. It’s basic algebraic structuring, Helen! The building blocks of math!” “...sure it is.” Helen nodded slowly. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you aren’t able to follow this! You’re smart as a whip!” “I look at stars and make charts out of them, Ivy. The math I know about is geometry and-” “Well, if it’s geometry you’re after, take a look at my homework!” “Not THAT sorta geometry!” Helen said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I need some fresh air...you math people are bonkers.” Ivy crossed her arms and looked as she left. “Well, sure, go on and leave us mathematicians for your scientific breakthroughs and easy headlines! But when you need to calculate the trajectory of an asteroid, DON’T COME CRYING TO ME!” “I won’t!” Helen waved. She shut the door. Ivy grumbled.

Later that night, Ivy was still hard at work, and Helen came back in, with a few things. Looked like a brown paper bag of things. She looked over. “Still working?” “Mhm.” “Damn...Professor Holly really IS a jerk, huh?” “Yeah...I work better on chalk.” She said. “I guess I just...visualize it better.” “...” Helen handed her a small chalkboard. “It’s not the wall. But it’s there.” She smiled. “I also got you a coke. It’ll help you finish.” “...” Ivy smiled, warmly. “Thanks, Helen...sorry about earlier.” “It’s no trouble...so, self space dual curves, huh?” “Yep.” “How do those work?” “...I’m glad you asked...”

[chronicbeans]

The Oath

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" story

TW: Hospital Setting/Doctors, Mentions of Chronic Illness

I look up to the large wall in the break room. The ringing of music from my chest and the clicking of my gears is the only sound in the room. As such, the golden words on the wall seem to glare down at me with such intensity that I cannot look away. My robotic joints move on their own accord, approaching the plaque on the wall. The plaque was, supposedly, written by humans long ago, then sent to our world by accident.

"I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgement, this covenant.

I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures [that] are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick."

I stop at the last part, feeling an odd, uncomfortable feeling swell in my chest. I cannot help but remember the look on Aluminum's face after our last appointment when I read the line "I will remember that I do not treat fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being..." We may not be humans, but I feel like I have done something wrong, either way. His words were cruel, but I feel as though they were, in some way, deserved.

I hear the door open and shut behind me. Turning, I see the face of my colleague, Nurse Angel, staring at me. Her voice Pierce's the silence of the room, making her presence known. "Dr. Cogsworth, what are you doing? Your patients are waiting."

I wish to move, to go see them, but I feel I must ask this question. The burning in my chest increases as the words leave my mouth "Are we doing something wrong?" "What do you mean?" "Each patient is different. We treat them almost exactly the same. Patients with a specific GI disease go through the same medications and such, regardless of their differences in other health areas."

She crosses her arms "You must be crazy, questioning that. Look... here's how it works: patient comes in. Patient is sick with say... gastroenteritis. Treat gastroenteritis the way every other case of gastroenteritis is treated. It has been proven to work, after all! Patient is cured. Patient goes home happy. Any differences in treatment are due to outside forces, like allergies or such. Doesn't that make sense?"

I slowly nod my head, explaining "What about the patients that never get better? The chronically ill? Like-" "Like Aluminum?" I hesitate, before nodding again "You are letting his case get to you. I have never believed you could truly care for a patient. Let me tell you something: I never have. You get too close, Dr. Cogsworth, and I never expected you to even be able to feel anything. That robotic expression of yours tells nobody anything."

Nurse Angel takes a deep breath, before continuing "You are letting one patient get to your head. You already know the protocol for chronic illness here. Treat them how their chart says to. The only reason why Aluminum skipped to dupilumab was because he can't swallow pills. When you tried to give him pills, he choked. The liquid slurry was skipped, too, because the creators of dupilumab wanted more EoE patients to experiment with. If this is about him, you know how to treat his case. His condition is still not well-known, so we need to experiment as we please with his case. So, just follow protocol, while asking administration for changes as you see fit with him. The protocol has been proven to work. There are only healthy and sick people in the world, our job is to cure sickness. The chronically ill should just be seen as a lifetime job." With those words, she leaves.

I look back to the plaque one last time. That burning in my chest is spreading to my face. Before I know it, I feel liquid running down my cheeks. I bring a few stiff, shaking fingers to my face, before looking down at them. A clear liquid, which I know as tears, covers the tips of my fingers. I don't know why, exactly, but I am crying.

I am crying and all I can think about is the upset faces of my patients, as well as the words of frustration they have said to me.