#we need to take dr who back into our own hands. for our health

[innocet]

I for one welcome the impending second wilderness years

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 21

When someone you dread comes to the QZ, Joel takes matters into his own hands. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-20 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of past SA, PTSD response, torture. No use of Y/N. 18+ only, minors DNI!

Length: 7.2k

Friday, April 17, 2015 - Four Years Later 

“So you’re not going to be Dr. And Mr… Fuck, what was his name again?” Andrew snapped off a bite of jerky. 

“His first name was Simon,” you said. “I’m not actually sure if I ever got his last name.” 

“So you’re not going to be Dr. And Mr. what’s-his-name why?” 

“Because he had a weird problem with the fact that he’d sometimes have to share a bed with my best friend,” you shrugged. 

Jess groaned. 

“He was fine with it at first when he assumed the best friend had a vagina and he thought he could finagle a three way out of it,” you said, taking a drink of water. “Got a little less OK with it when I said the name Andrew…” 

“You guys don’t even do that much anymore!” Jess said. You and Andrew both looked at her for a moment. She sighed. “You do that every time I go outside the QZ don’t you.” 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Andrew kissed her temple. She sighed, leaning into him. 

“Almost like he’s attached to his wife and has a hard time coping when she’s out dealing with the end of the world,” you said. “He’s just strange that way…” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Who knew I’d be a part of the codependency club…. Well, hopefully now that the new batch of guards are coming in they won’t need me as much,” she sighed. “They’re supposed to be getting a few other people who are equipped to go help with field psych evaluations with this bunch…” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Andrew muttered. “They’re only after muscle, they don’t give a shit about anything else.” 

“Isn’t this group supposed to be pretty big, though?” You asked. “We’ve got Marta coming in to help with processing for health screenings in like an hour…” 

“You say that like it’s not going to just be more goons,” Andrew said. “With all the shit that’s going on… There was a shoot out just a few blocks away the other day. FEDRA’s losing their grip.” 

“They ever bug the clinic break room we’re going to be next on the executioner’s block,” you muttered. 

“Makes me nervous, talking about this stuff here,” Jess said. “No one likes it but…” 

You were quiet for a minute. 

“Any other dates coming up soon?” Jess changed the subject. “I still liked Sean…” 

“He did stick around for a bit,” Andrew nodded. “He lasted, what, four months?” 

“Yup,” you nodded. “I liked him, too. But, you know…” 

They didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. Sean had said “I love you” and had expected to hear it back. You just weren’t comfortable lying to him. He didn’t stick around long after that. 

“Nothing on the books yet,” you shrugged. “We’ll see what happens.” 

“You’re just going to end up fucking Tommy again,” Jess narrowed her eyes at you. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if I should be proud of you for figuring out how to have casual sex or if I should be frustrated with you figuring out how to do it with just one person,” Andrew said. You glared at him. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s very on brand for you…” 

“Hey,” you cut him off. “Why are we talking about my sex life? I don’t get to talk about your sex life…” 

“Ours is boring,” Jess shrugged. “Yours is way more fun.” 

You weren’t sure if fun was quite the word you’d use for it. 

Yes, you’d managed to branch out a bit since your split with Tommy. It took a few months but, when a guy in line for rations had asked if you wanted to hang out sometime, you’d said yes. Sure, you ended up having nothing in common with him but it was a start. Something you were now comfortable doing. Now you were having dates somewhat regularly. Even if you weren’t always sure you understood the point of it. 

You’d only been broken up with Tommy a few months when he showed up at your door late one night, just before curfew. You were already in bed when he knocked on your door. You frowned. Even months later, you recognized the knock. You all but jumped out of bed and tore the door open. 

“Hey Kid,” he gave you his signature, cocky smile. His bicep was bloody. 

“Of course you’re bleeding,” you sighed, opening the door. He smiled sheepishly but came inside. “You’re always fucking bleeding.”

He sat on your bed where he always had as you’d stitched him up and shrugged out of his shirt, hissing as the fabric passed over the cut on his arm. You gathered the supplies and turned on enough lights that you could see what the fuck you were doing. 

“Who’d you piss off this time?” You asked, cleaning the knife wound. It was jagged. 

“The usual,” he said. “Believe it or not, this isn’t how I wanted to see you again…” 

“Weird that you still go out and get into trouble then,” you muttered, checking the wound before starting to suture. 

“I’ve been thinking about coming by, saying hi for a few weeks,” he said. “Missed you. Weird not seein’ ya all the time. This was just… the push I needed.” 

“Everyone else OK?” You asked, glancing up at him. 

“Fine,” he said. “Tess made it out unscathed. Joel’s leg is better. He just got decked in the face this time out, which he probably deserved for somethin’ else stupid he’s done lately.” 

You laughed a bit at that. 

“Probably did.” 

By the time you’d stitched him up, it was past curfew. 

“I can take the couch,” he said, but you waved him off. 

“We shared a bed for a year,” you replied. “Just shower first, you’re gross.” 

You were reading when he climbed into bed beside you. 

“Kind of a weird place to ask it but, think we could be friends?” He said. “Meant it when I said I missed you. Don’t expect anything else but I’d like to be friends.” 

You looked at him for a second, the shadow of familiar longing in you. You ignored it. 

“I’d like to be friends, too.” 

And you were just friends, for a while. It took some adjustment but you liked Tommy as a friend. He was funny, he shared a lot of the concerns you had about FEDRA and what was going on in the world, he was unfailingly kind. 

A few weeks after you broke up with Sean, the two of you were sitting on your couch, watching a movie Tommy had found on his last trip outside the QZ, Cruel Intentions, something you’d never bothered to see before. You liked it well enough but the sex scenes… you hadn’t had sex since the split with Sean. The scenes were making you fidget on the couch, rearranging yourself to try to get some kind of relief from the ache between your legs. 

The movie finally, mercifully, ended and Tommy looked at you. 

“Proposition,” he said. 

“Shoot.” 

“We have sex.” You raised your eyebrows, he pressed on. “As friends. We’ve already done it, I have a good time, you have a good time…” 

“You’ve just got a one track mind,” you rolled your eyes at him. 

“No,” he said. “I can just tell when you’re turned on and I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.” 

You glared at him. 

“No strings, no pesky feelings, just sex when we both want it,” he said. “That’s it.” 

You thought for a second. Could you do that? You supposed the last time you’d had sex with Joel it had been just sex. You’d kind of hoped it would be more but you knew that it wouldn’t be. 

“Just sex?” You asked. 

“Just sex,” he nodded. 

Just sex with Tommy turned out to be pretty damn fun. It wasn’t something you did all the time but it was enough to you from being too focused on the sex part on the rare occasions you did try to date someone new. It was easy enough to cut off when he found someone he was interested in or you did and easy enough to fall back into when you were both single again. 

It was during one of the “just sex” periods that Tommy brought you to meet some of his… friends. 

He’d just gotten back from a smuggling run and had a pack full of stuff when he showed up at your door with a broken finger. 

“Figured why try to fix it myself,” he teased you. You just rolled your eyes and let him in. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” he said slowly as you set his finger. You just raised your eyebrows at hm. “I’ve got to run this stuff to a meeting tomorrow night. You should come.” 

“What kind of meeting?” You frowned. 

“Just some like minded folk,” he shrugged. 

“You’re being awfully cagey, Miller,” you said. He shrugged again. You smirked a little. “I’m not going to a swingers club with you…” 

“Damn, killing all my dreams here, Kid,” he teased back. 

The next night, he came by the clinic as you were finishing, the pack on his back, and led you across town to a building that FEDRA hadn’t done anything with yet. 

Your body tensed. It reminded you of being outside the QZ, like a clicker or a raider was going to jump you at any second. 

“You’re OK,” he said quietly, leading you down a hall. There was a firefly insignia painted on the wall where he turned.

“Tommy,” you hissed. “Are you mixed up in…” 

“Just listen to what they have to say,” he said quickly. “It’s not what you think.” 

“Don’t know what the hell kind of death wish you have,” you muttered. He ignored you. 

The meeting was informal. It was Tommy, a handful of other people and a woman named Marlene who seemed to be running things. They didn’t seem to want to talk openly with you there, but they seemed to have enough understanding of whatever the fuck it was they were doing to not need to say much explicitly. Something told you that Tommy had mentioned bringing you along before. 

After the meeting, you hung back with Tommy and waited until Marlene was alone. 

“This is the friend I told you about,” he said, nodding at you. Marlene looked you over. 

“So you’re the doctor,” she said. 

“So they tell me.” 

“Tommy says you’re doing some research,” she said. You glanced at him. “I’d be curious to learn more.” 

“Not a lot to say at the moment,” you shrugged. “I’m trying to use some preexisting research on slowing the growth of fungal infections to see if I can develop a way to stop cordycep progression after transmission. Like an emergency injectable or, maybe someday, a vaccine. So we can have time to excise or amputate the infected tissue. I haven’t found anything that works yet, though.” 

“What if you thought a little bigger,” Marlene said. 

“Bigger.” 

“Bigger,” she nodded. “Bigger like a cure. Like it doesn’t matter if you’re bitten beyond needing some stitches. Bigger like we get our fucking planet back.” 

You laughed for a moment before you realized that she was being serious. 

“You’re talking about developing a cure for cordyceps,” you looked at her. 

“I am,” she said. “And I’d like your help. You don’t have to only develop what FEDRA wants…” 

“FEDRA barely tolerates the work I’m doing now,” you scoffed. “I’m not developing this for them, I started doing this on my own and my boss was willing to let me use some facilities to do it in…” 

“But a cure…” 

“A cure is so far beyond unlikely,” you said. “We have nothing to build a cure off of. Right now, I’m looking for a bandaid…” 

“Bandaids don’t do much for bullet holes,” she replied. 

“When you’re the one patching people up, you come talk to me about bandaids,” you snapped. “Until then, let the professionals handle it.” 

She laughed darkly. 

“Didn’t think you’d be such a supporter of FEDRA,” she said. 

“I’m not,” you replied. “I’m just a realist. I wish FEDRA just didn’t exist but they do and we’re stuck in the reality we’re stuck in. I’m not going to sit here and wait for some magical cure to manifest, I’m going to work with what I have and try to do what I can to make it better.” 

She considered you for a moment. 

“If your research pans out,” she said. “Would you consider sharing the formula with us?” 

“Yes,” you said. “Of course. I plan to give it to anyone who asks for it. A hope for survival shouldn’t be a tool for power, I don’t intend on just giving it to FEDRA to leverage as they see fit.” 

“We have a lab,” she said. “Out west. We could provide you all the support you’d need…” 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m not going out there with infected and raiders if I can help it. And my life is here. My friends are here, the clinic, the kids at the school… I’m not going anywhere.” 

She sighed. 

“Well, Tommy knows how to reach me,” she said. “If you change your mind. Which I hope you do. You would be an asset to our mission.” 

Tommy walked you back to your place in silence. He stopped outside your door and you just sighed. 

“You’re being an idiot with them,” you said. “Don’t let it get you killed.” 

You doubted he listened to you.

Marta poked her head into the break room. 

“Just got word from the front gate,” she said. “They’re heading our way.” 

“That’s my cue,” Jess said, getting up and stealing a kiss from Andrew. “See you when you get home. Try not to wear yourself out.” 

“I make no promises,” he said. She rolled her eyes, waved by to you, and left. 

Andrew looked at you. 

“Ready to get fucked by FEDRA?” He asked. 

“Sounds like your average Friday to me,” you replied, cracking your neck, downing the rest of your water and heading to the exam area. 

Things went smoothly at first. Marta and Andrew divided the men up, each of them handling intake for half of the 100 or so troops FEDRA was sending in from other QZs and training facilities. Then, the men went back to the exam area where you and the other doctors and nurses did quick exams and sent them on their way. You were on your 14th exam when you knocked once on the exam room door and went inside, without paying much mind to the name on the chart. “Hello,” you said, opening the file. “I’m…” 

“I remember you.” 

You looked up. Your stomach clenched. You had to swallow to keep from vomiting. Your heart pounded. Your hands shook. It took everything you had to not run. 

You looked down at the file in your trembling hands, skipping over the first name and going to the last, even though it was burned in your memory, just like his face. 

McCarthy. 

“Always wondered if you’d made it through,” he smirked at you. “You look good, hardly know it’d been 12 years. How old were you then?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your throat was dry. “I’m just here to do a quick exam.” 

“Oh, c’mon now, I know what we had was more memorable than that,” he said, looking you up and down. Your stomach turned. “Know it was for me. You had… Well let’s just say, been looking for a girl to measure up since.” 

“I just need to take some vitals,” you managed, getting the blood pressure cuff off the wall. 

You barely remembered taking his vitals. Everything sounded like a high pitched whine, you could hardly hear or register anything he said. You were hyper aware of the feel of everything in your body, of every blood vessel, every muscle, every function. Breathing took conscious effort. So did blinking, swallowing. All you wanted to do was throw up. 

After what felt like an eternity, you stepped back from him. 

“You’re all set, Officer McCarthy,” you said. 

“Have to look you up now that I’ll be in town,” he smirked. “Good to know that I can just start here.” 

You knew your eyes must look like dinner plates, so wide and afraid. He seemed to like that. 

“See you around, Doc.” 

He winked, closing the door behind him. The second he was out of the room, you locked the door and doubled over the trashcan, throwing up. Your body just rejected everything you’d eaten that day, coughing and choking in its rush to expel it. 

You’d spent the last 12 years pretending that McCarthy didn’t exist. That it had never happened. When he came to mind, you tried to shove the thoughts down, tried to avoid them, deny that there was anything to think about to begin with. 

You rinsed your mouth out in the sink and tried to keep your tears under control before you rushed out of the exam room to find Dr. Lee. 

Thankfully, he was just stepping out of an exam room when you did. 

“Lee,” you said quickly. “I need you to cover for me, I have to go home.” 

He groaned. 

“Come on, we’re slammed…” 

“I know,” you said, looking up at him. “But how often do I ask to go home early? I have to go home, I can’t…” 

He looked at you and frowned. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Get out of here.” 

You all but sprinted for the door and out into the sun. You took moment when you got outside, doubling over with your hands on your knees to catch your breath before starting your walk home. You needed to curl up under your blanket, feel safe in your own space. It seemed like you might snap in half if you didn’t. You’d just started to calm down, to get your heart to stop racing, when McCarthy stepped out from an alley and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down it with him. 

You froze as he put your back against the wall, his arms caging you in. 

“Now I know you remember me, pretty thing,” he smirked. “I’m the guy who saved your life, the lives of those kids you were with, you wouldn’t forget a guy like me…” 

“You have me confused with someone else,” you could barely talk. He ran his nose over your cheek, smelling you. 

“Bet you still feel the same,” he said. “Bet I could find out…” 

“Please,” you choked. “I just…” 

“Hey!” 

Suddenly McCarthy’s body was pulled away from yours and Joel was in front of you. 

“The fuck is this?” He asked, facing McCarthy. Your hand went to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt, desperate to get your heart to slow down. “Because it looked an awful lot like you were hasslin’ this girl.” 

“No trouble,” he said. “Just… an old friend. We go way back, all the way back to the outbreak. Don’t we, Sugar?” 

Joel looked over his shoulder to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Joel snapped. “Catch you botherin’ her again you’ll regret it.” 

“Careful who you talk to,” McCarthy tried to step up to him, but Joel had several inches on him. “Probably don’t want to piss off a FEDRA officer.” 

“I don’t give a shit who I piss off,” he growled. “Get the fuck out.” 

He stood there and watched him go before he turned to you. 

“Hey, Baby,” he said gently, reaching for you. You flinched back, your stomach turning. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you managed. 

“I just want to help…” he began but you cut him off. 

“I know,” you said. “But just… don’t touch me, please don’t touch me, just don’t touch me…” 

“Won’t touch you,” he said, hands up. “Promise.” 

You nodded quickly, trying to not hyperventilate. 

“Want to talk about it?” He asked, standing close enough that he could catch you if you fell, far enough that you didn’t feel like you needed to cower away from him. You managed to shake your head. “Want me to get someone? Like Andrew or Jess or… I could get Tommy.”

You just shook your head again, holding onto the wall, trying desperately to ground yourself. Joel hovered, watching you. 

“I’ll be fine,” you glanced up at him. “You don’t need to stay…” 

“Not going to just leave you here like this,” he said, voice gruff. “Especially if you won’t tell me why.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, standing up straight and leaning back against the wall. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on your diaphragm, pushing it low in your stomach to draw as much air into your lungs as you could. You breathed out slowly. 

“You left work early for it,” he said. You lifted your head off the wall and opened your eyes, looking at him. He shrugged. “I try to stay away from you. Usually safe over here right now.” 

You scoffed a little. 

“Didn’t know I made it unsafe for the big bad smuggler,” you tried to smile but you weren’t sure that it worked. Judging from Joel’s expression, it didn’t. “Really, it’s fine. I’m just going to go home, have a drink, put on some music. Maybe take a bath. I’m fine.” 

“Who was the asshole?” He asked. 

You winced. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Joel,” you said. “I just really don’t, OK? Please don’t make me. And please don’t say anything to anyone about it, I’d just rather pretend this never happened, OK?” 

“Tell me who he is and I’ll drop it,” he said. “Won’t tell anyone.” 

You searched his face for a moment. 

It had been a long time since you’d been this close to Joel. Probably since the night you’d walked him back to the QZ with his broken leg. 

It hadn’t been as complete of a shut out as the year before, at least. Not this time. You’d occasionally bumped into him when out running errands. He’d give you a nod of acknowledgement, which was better than you’d really expected. He’d come into the clinic once - you saw him in the waiting room - but Andrew put him with another doctor. You’d even seen him once at his apartment. You’d come by when Tommy said to meet him there, he’d said not to worry about Joel. But Joel came home as you stood in his living room, waiting for Tommy to grab the last of whatever it was he needed for whatever it was you were going to do - you’d since forgotten all that, too distracted by seeing Joel. He’d just stood there for a second, frozen, looking at you. You’d smiled tightly at him. He just went to his room, brushing past Tommy on his way by. 

His hair was starting to gray, but otherwise, he looked the same as he had for as long as you’d known him. His picture was still on your bedside table. You slipped it into a drawer if you were having Tommy over or you were seeing someone but outside of that, you had a reminder of what he looked like before beside you all the time. It still killed you to look at him, made your heart ache with missing him and who he was to you once. 

In spite of everything that had happened between you, you didn’t think he would hurt you on purpose. 

“I don’t know his first name,” you said, looking down at his feet. “His last name is McCarthy.” 

You managed to look back at his face. 

“Please, Joel,” you begged. “Don’t tell anyone, please don’t tell anyone. I just want to pretend like it never happened and I can’t… if people know I…” 

You were starting to hyperventilate again. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to take a deep breath and hold it for a moment before releasing it slowly. You looked back at Joel. 

“I’ll do just about whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone,” you said quietly. 

“Won’t tell anyone,” he said. 

You nodded, relieved. 

“I’m walkin’ you home though,” he frowned. “In case that fucker shows up again.” 

You just nodded, not feeling up for fighting with him. You tried to gather yourself for a moment and then started off, Joel staying an almost awkward distance from you as you made your way through the QZ. Like he wanted to be close but not so close that he might risk accidentally touching you or have someone thinking you were walking anywhere together. He didn’t say anything, just looked over at you every minute or two like you were a bomb he was expecting to explode. 

“Thank you,” you said, stopping at the communal door to your building. “I appreciate your help with him. I wasn’t prepared for that, I will be now.” 

He just nodded gruffly. 

“It was…” you paused. “I don’t know if good to see you is the right word but… It was nice. Seeing you.” 

He paused, looking you over for a moment. 

“You too.” 

He crossed his arms, watching you. It took you a second to realize that he was waiting for you to go inside. You opened the door. 

“Night, Joel.” 

“Night, Kid.” 

***

Joel waited until you were inside to go lean against the building opposite yours, in an alcove where he was tucked away and largely out of sight. He was pretty certain this McCarthy fucker hadn’t followed you but he wasn’t about to take any chances. 

Whatever that asshole had done, it was bad. Joel had only ever seen you that horrified once, when a raider had his hand around your throat. The way you’d panicked when he’d reached for you… 

He ground his teeth. He needed to know what this man did to you so he could make sure it wouldn’t happen again. 

Joel stood sentry outside your apartment for hours. After the clinic closed, he saw Andrew go up, but he was only there for a few minutes. You must have lied to him, he doubted he would have left if you’d told him the truth of it. He waited until curfew was only minutes away and went home, making it inside just in time. 

“Out late,” Tommy observed, sitting on the couch. 

“Got held up,” he said. 

“Trade go bad?” He asked. 

“Turned out OK,” Joel replied. 

Tommy didn’t press. He wondered if you’d ever told Tommy whatever had happened. The two of you had stayed close after breaking up, you might have told him something you’d never told Joel… 

He could think of just one person who would almost certainly know. McCarthy had mentioned the outbreak. Andrew must know, must have some idea. 

Tommy went to bed but Joel stayed up. He’d told you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. You’d begged him not to tell anyone. But he needed to keep you safe and to do that, he needed to understand the threat. But what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. 

The moment curfew lifted in the morning, Joel was out the door, walking quickly to Andrew’s. He had to pound on the door a few times and it took a few minutes for him to answer, looking half asleep. 

“Miller,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Thought I wouldn’t have to deal with your shit anymore.” 

“McCarthy,” Joel said quickly. “FEDRA guard. Name mean anything to you?” 

Andrew’s eyes went wide for a moment before he grabbed Joel by the shoulder and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. 

“Where’d you hear that name,” he asked. He looked wide awake now. 

“Not important,” Joel said. “Who is he. What’d he do to her.” 

“He here?” Andrew growled. 

“Tell me what he did.” 

He looked Joel up and down before he laughed darkly. 

“God, you never even tried with her, did you?” He asked. “To busy with your own shit so she never told you…” 

“What did he do.” 

Andrew glanced down the hall, making sure Jess was still asleep and looked back to Joel, his voice low. 

“He fucking raped her is what he did,” he spat. Joel’s stomach twisted. “She’s never called it that, she never calls it anything. She likes to pretend it never happened but that’s what it was.” 

“What happened.” Joel’s teeth were clenched. His whole body was coiled like a spring. He needed to hit something, the energy and rage needed to go somewhere. 

“We came to a check point,” Andrew said. “Two guards, both armed, three of us. I was a kid, I was 18 but I was a kid and Jessica… She was trying to take care of us. They had guns and he told her the way to get through, made it clear he’d start shooting if she didn’t listen. She gave me the gun, told me to protect Jessica, he took her to the woods… She never told me what happened, she never talked about it. She just came out different. I should have fucking killed him, I should have shot him the second she gave me the gun…” 

Joel felt like he was going to be sick. He’d left you. You’d been alone with two children and his child inside you and you’d been forced…

“Where is he?” Andrew snarled. “I’m going to rip him apart…” 

“One of us needs to be there for her and it can’t be me,” Joel replied. “Needs to be you. She trusts you. You take care of her, I’ll take care of him.” 

Andrew looked like he wanted to fight him for it but eventually he gave him just a single, stiff nod. Joel turned to leave before he turned back to him. 

“Pretend you don’t know,” he said. “Promised I wouldn’t say anything but… Couldn’t protect her if I didn’t know what I was protecting her from.” 

“When are you doing it?” Andrew asked. 

“Today,” he said. “I’m going to hers now, make sure he doesn’t show up. I’ll get her to work OK and take care of him, dump him somewhere tonight.” 

“He shows up at the fucking clinic and I’ll kill him,” Andrew said, his voice eerily calm. “I don’t give a shit.”

Joel nodded once. This was the first time he remembered ever really liking Andrew. He could leave you in his hands at the clinic and you would be safe, that he knew. 

He all but ran to your apartment, leaning against the building across from yours, waiting for you to come downstairs. He’d been waiting for about an hour when he spotted you. You’d French braided your hair, like you were expecting a long day. You hadn’t put on ribbons. 

He caught you quickly. 

“Good morning,” he said, falling into step beside you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.” 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, frowning up at him. 

“Making sure you get to work safe,” he said. You clearly hadn’t slept, you looked exhausted. 

“I’m fine, really,” you said, continuing on. Joel walked beside you. You frowned at him again but didn’t argue the point. He walked you to the front door of the clinic in silence, you just giving him a tight smile and a small wave before going inside. Joel found a spot near the door he could wait, make sure McCarthy didn’t come in before Andrew got there. 

Andrew spotted him on his way in, stepping over to him and keeping his voice low. 

“He probably came in with the transfer guards that showed up yesterday,” he said quietly. 

“Temp housing,” Joel said. 

“Exactly,” Andrew replied. He looked Joel up and down. “Good luck, Miller.” 

With your friend on site, Joel finally felt safe leaving you. 

Moving to hurt the man who hurt you quickly eased the tightness in his chest. He may have failed you 12 years ago but he wasn’t going to fail you now. 

He went home and got supplies. He didn’t intend to make McCarthy’s death easy. He needed to make sure he had what he needed to make it worthwhile. 

Joel stood at the edge of the small market that was near the temporary housing for FEDRA employees. He figured McCarthy would need to come through here at some point. He was right. 

Shortly after noon, McCarthy came through the stands, pondering what there was to buy. Joel waited until precisely the right moment, reaching out and grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him into a darkened alleyway. He yelped but it wasn’t loud and it didn’t take the man long to recognize Joel. 

“You again,” he smirked. “Here to apologize?” 

“Here for information,” he growled. “What did you do to her.” 

“To who?” The man smirked challenging him. 

It was a dumb move. Joel was so mad he couldn’t see straight. He grabbed the man by the throat and thrust him into the wall, hard enough to make him cough and choke. 

“Tell me,” he demanded. 

Now, the man just looked scared. He punched McCarthy hard across the face, enough to knock him out, and slung him over his shoulder, moving quickly for the abandoned building he’d spotted earlier. 

He ducked inside, going for an interior room where his screams wouldn’t be heard. 

There was a chair in the room, and old folding one. He tied the man to the chair and smacked him to bring him around. 

“What the fuck?” He looked around, straining against his ties, his eyes wide. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with…” 

“I know exactly who I’m fucking with,” Joel said. “I think it’s you who doesn’t know.”

He pulled out his knife and took the second chair and pulled it up close to McCarthy’s, getting right in his face. 

“Tell me what you did to her,” Joel said. 

“Look,” he said quickly. “It was the outbreak…” 

Joel sighed, opening the knife and shoving it into the man’s thigh. He screamed, doubling over as well as he could given his bonds. Joel smiled. 

“You’re going to tell me what you did to her,” he said. “I want to know it all. Tell me what you did to her.” 

“Please,” he whimpering now. “I swear…” 

Joel pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket. He held McCarthy’s head still as the man started begging and pleading. It fell on deaf ears. He pressed the pliers around his one of his middle teeth and pulled. 

It felt good, expending energy this way. He was taking action, doing something. It didn’t even feel like he needed to pull that hard. 

McCarthy screamed, blood pouring from his mouth. Joel gave him a moment to catch his breath, watching him bleed. He liked his blood. He wanted to see more of it. 

“What did you do to her?” He asked through clenched teeth. 

“She wanted it!” He sobbed. 

“Wrong answer,” Joel ripped the knife from his leg and thrust it into his shoulder. The man screamed again. “What did you do to her.” 

“Took her into the woods!” He screamed, panting for breath. Joel gave him a minute to pant. He could wait. 

After a minute he spoke again. 

“How did you get her to the woods, McCarthy?” He asked. The man’s eyes glistened with tears. 

“I…” his voice cracked. “I told her I could give them a code to get through the other checkpoints in exchange…” 

“In exchange for what?” Joel patted the man’s knife wound on his leg. He cried out again. 

“In exchange for sex!” He cried out. “I told her I’d trade sex for safe passage, said I didn’t know the next time I’d see a woman, I didn’t want to waste it…” 

“Did you have a gun?” Joel asked. The man looked confused. He grabbed his face, holding his cheeks harshly in his fingers, forcing him to look at Joel. “When you told her you’d trade for sex, did you have a gun?” 

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Yes, I had a gun…” 

“So you threatened her,” he said. “You threatened her and the children she was with.” 

“No,” he man moaned. “That’s not… I swear, it wasn’t like that…” 

Joel sighed and pulled the knife from the man’s shoulder before he thrust it into his uninjured leg. McCarthy wailed. 

“I threatened her!” He panted, gasping. “I knew what I was doing, I wanted her and knew how I could get it so I threatened her…” 

“And you took her into the woods,” Joel said. The man nodded. “With your gun.” He nodded again. “What did you do then?” 

“Told her to get undressed,” he groaned. “Told her she had great tits… once she was naked, told her to lie down…” 

He choked and cried. Joel sighed, reaching over and smacking his face, forcing him to look at him. 

“Then what,” Joel’s voice was harsh. 

“I…” he swallowed. He looked terrified. “I got on top of her…” His voice broke. “Please….” 

“What. Next.” 

“I put my dick in her,” he groaned. He was crying now. “I fucked her…” 

“That’s not what you did, is it?” Joel grabbed his hair, holding his face close to his own. “Call it what it was McCarthy!” He screamed it. “What did you do to her!” 

“I raped her,” he sobbed it out. Joel released his hair. 

“Where’d you touch her,” he asked. He looked confused. “You touched her when you raped her, right? Where.” 

“Her chest,” he sniffed. “Hips, waist…”

Joel remembered the parts of you that made you freeze when he touched them, parts of you that never made you freeze before. He wasn’t sure you even knew you did it. Now he knew why.

“That it?” Joel asked. He nodded. “You cum in her?” 

“Please…” 

Joel pulled the knife from his leg. 

“You don’t seem to fucking get it,” he growled, getting in his face. “I like hurting you. I want to hurt you. I don’t need much reason to but you saying please? Makes me want to hurt you more. I want to fucking flay you alive every time I hear you beg. So answer the goddamn question,” Joel thrust the knife into McCarthy’s other shoulder. “Or I will do what I want.” 

“Yes!” He cried it out. “I did, I came in her…” 

Joel sat back, panting for breath for a moment, looking McCarthy up and down. He was covered in blood. He was weak, slumped over like he couldn’t hold himself up.  

Joel wasn’t done with him. 

“You know she was pregnant when you did that?” He asked. McCarthy lifted his head just enough to look at Joel. He shook his head. “Well, she was. With my kid.” 

He stood up, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“I wasn’t there to protect her then,” he said, flexing his fingers before curling them into fists. “But I am now. Can’t let you live with what you did, McCarthy. I have to kill you for her. But when I make it hurt? That’s for me.” 

He swung, punching him in the middle of his stomach, knocking the air out of him. 

“And I’m going to like it.” 

***

The clinic had been fairly quiet that day, quiet enough that your mind wandered to places you didn’t want it to. 

Andrew was no help. He was oddly withdrawn, only really responding when prompted, not initiating much conversation himself. But he didn’t fight you when you put on Joni Mitchell, so you were taking what you could get. You were dreading going home but didn’t have a reason to tell Andrew you wanted to sleep over, either. You were debating about how up front you wanted to be when there was yelling outside the clinic. 

“Help!” Someone screamed. You looked to Andrew for just half a second before running for the doors. 

Two FEDRA soldiers were hauling in a third man, holding him by his underarms and knees, the man’s body totally limp. He was so covered in blood you were almost certain he couldn’t still be breathing. 

“Jesus Christ,” you said before yelling over your shoulder. “Kristen! Trauma!” You turned your attention back to the men. “What happened?” 

“Don’t know,” one said. “Just found him like this, he transferred in with us there’s no way someone here hates him enough to do this yet…” 

“Let’s get him back,” you said, Kristen running up to you as you headed back toward the exam rooms and the surgical suite. “We need O-, a lot of it…” She glanced around you to the injured man.

“Not sure that’ll make a damn difference,” she said but she ran to obey. 

“We’ll start him in an exam room,” you said quickly. “Want to try to maintain a sterile area in the OR but I’m sure we’ll need it…” 

They carried him into the exam room and lifted him onto the table. You quickly washed your hands and gloved up before diving in, looking the man over. Kristen ran in with the O- and quickly hung it as you cleaned up a place on his arm to start a transfusion. 

“Do you even know who this is?” You asked the men who carried him in. The man’s face was beaten beyond any kind of recognition. His lower lip was barely hanging on, eyes swollen shut, nose crushed. 

“He had his dog tags,” one man said. “It’s Lewis McCarthy…” 

You froze, your stomach twisting. Your head spun. 

“Doc, I don’t think we can do much here,” Kristen said from McCarthy’s side. “He’s lost so much blood…” 

“We should try,” you said, on autopilot. You tried to find the worst injuries on the man. He was missing teeth. He’d been stabbed numerous times. His whole body was covered in blood and bruises, not a single inch of him left unscathed. You swallowed before pulling down his pants to see what might be on his legs when you saw it. 

“Oh my God,” you jumped back from the table and into Andrew, who’d come into the exam room at some point and you hadn’t noticed. He caught you. 

“What?” Kristen asked before looking herself. “Oh!”

She jumped back, too. 

Where McCarthy’s penis had been, there was nothing. Just an open wound. One of the men who brought him in gagged and ran for the trash can, throwing up. You stared at it, the place where the part of him he’d weaponized against you had been torn away. Andrew held onto you. 

“We’re losing him,” Kristen said, her hand on his neck. “Doc, I don’t think… there’s nothing we can do here, there’s nothing we can do with this.” 

You nodded, shaking as Andrew kept you upright. He looked to the men. 

“You should go,” he said. “Don’t need to see this.” 

They nodded, trembling as they left. 

“I’ll go get a bag,” Kristen said, staring wide eyed at him. “Stuff to start clean up…” 

She left you and Andrew alone with the body. 

“Andrew,” you whispered. “Did you talk to Joel?” 

“He had questions,” he said, voice flat. 

“Oh my God,” you stared at the body. “What did he do?” 

“The right thing,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “The right fucking thing.” 

A/N: AHHHHHHH THE McCARTHY CHAPTER. I've been waiting for Joel to go off on him since chapter 8 and we finally got here. So satisfying to write, hopefully satisfying to read!

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Thank you, everyone, for reading and commenting! It's been a dream to see how people feel about this piece while I'm writing it. Love you all, thank you for taking the time to read my work <3

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[aita-blorbos]

AITA for cooking meth with my former chemistry student, killing two people, and lying to my family about it?

I (50M) was recently diagnosed with inoperable, likely fatal lung cancer. I work at a highschool as a chemistry teacher, but both the pay and the students are terrible. Case in point, my "lab partner" (24M) - who we'll call "Cap'n" because of course he'd insist on a stupid nickname like that - not only completely flunked my class, but then went on to skip college entirely and become a meth-addicted drug dealer instead.

Understandably, I was a little shaken after receiving my diagnosis. It came as a surprise since I've never smoked, I keep myself in relatively fair health, etc. (Recently my wife has taken to vegan bacon- apparently it helps lower cholesterol, but I digress.) I haven't told my family about the situation yet; I'm still trying to figure out how to "let the cat out of the bag", not to mention I doubt my wife will take it very well.

As for deciding to try cooking methamphetamine, well. I'm not really sure how to explain it, exactly, but there's a lot of money in it, money that would benefit my family, and I don't have much to lose anymore. This may sound cliche, but it's as though I'm really awake for the first time in my life.

Cap'n and I formed a partnership by circumstance only; I found out he was in "the business" and offered to either turn him into the DEA or work with me, and he naturally took the second option. He had no idea what he was doing on the chemistry side of things - chili powder in the meth! applying heat to an Erlenmeyer flask! no wonder I flunked him, he clearly learned nothing in my class - but does know the trade.

(Note: Don't buy all of your supplies from the same store.)

Sorry, I'm getting too far into the weeds here, let me skip ahead. We purchased a trailer and drove out to somewhere in the middle of the desert to cook without added attention or need for dramatic cleanup if we had to leave the area in a hurry. Our first batch was, according to Cap'n, "pure glass." After all of that complaining, I had cooked the finest product he'd ever seen on the first try! Goes to show paying attention in school does pay off, ahem. In case any of you were reading this and thinking of skipping off to go and make highly illegal substances and risk years in prison instead of doing your homework. You all still have your entire lives ahead of you. I don't.

After making it, the next logical course of action was to sell. Cap'n said he had some connections - I mean, he is a drug dealer, I saw no reason not to trust him (I now see how little sense that makes.) - and came back with two men with guns pointed at both of us. You must understand, it was a kill or be killed situation. These are the kind of people who don't care about morals, or what's right or ethical or kind. If they'd lived... not just me, but my wife, my son, and my entire family would all be in serious, mortal danger. I had no choice.

Cap'n by this point had been knocked out cold- still alive, but entirely unhelpful with the situation at hand. I was on my own. So I offered to show the goons how I made the "glass", surely they wanted to see how it was done? And they did- I still can't believe that actually worked. But, ah, instead of actually cooking anything, I gave them... let's call it a chemistry lesson. When significant heat is applied to red phosphorus - a key ingredient in Cap'n and I's "extracurricular science project" - it oxidizes. Your result is phosgene gas, highly deadly, hence the "killing two people." One... technically isn't dead yet- somehow he managed to survive, I still don't fully understand how, but I'm... I'm working on it. Cap'n still has yet to get rid of the first body, so... technically I'm not failing to withhold my share of the cleanup, since he hasn't done so with his.

I realize now this is very long, but I wanted to explain the context for my actions. However, a tl;dr for those who might be in a hurry: I was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, so with nothing else to lose decided to try to make some money for my family by cooking and selling methamphetamine. Coincidentally, a former student of mine was also in the business, and I convinced him to work with me. When we tried to put our product on the market, two people tried to kill us, so I acted in self-defense.

But I really, really must know... is what I did wrong? Should I have been content to live the rest of however-long-I-have-left working a miserable job as a public high school chemistry teacher instead? Should I have found a less fatal way of dealing with the two men who tried to kill me and my partner? AITA?

P.S. It's pretty late as I'm typing this so I might've made some errors in coherency or grammar, for which I apologize.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hello there! I don't know if anyone has asked for this, but do you happen to know any fic on which Stiles and Derek are colleague nurses or doctors, and they meet each other in that setting?

Hey @darkmind-ofmine! Here you go.

(^gpoy at work. true facts)

Pretty Eyes by Inell

(1/1 I 1,720 I Teen)

Stiles doesn’t intend to become a resident during a pandemic, but he’s learned to roll with whatever life throws his way.

The Anatomy of an FBI Agent by orphan_account

(2/? I 7,347 I Mature)

Stiles nodded. It sounded like a day full of machinery and doctors muttering over his scans.

“Will I be hanging out with you or one of the babies?”

Dr. Cutie grinned. “How could I trust them with my most prized patient?”

Stiles laughed.

He barely noticed the pain.

Bet On It by IDreamOnlyOfYou (lauren3210)

(1/1 I 8,343 I Mature)

Stiles is an RN and Derek the attending trauma surgeon at Beacon Hills Hospital. They're constantly arguing, much to the amusement of their colleagues, who ultimately decide to take bets on when the sexual tension will finally explode. The only question is, who will win the jackpot?

Or

5 times one of the guys try to push Derek and Stiles together, and the time they worked it out all on their own.

Complications by DIEMONDS

(3/? I 17,273 I Teen)

“We can still be strangers. Strangers that hook up.” Stiles had to mentally curse at himself for liking Derek’s smirk. He honestly couldn’t help it, the man’s smile was too gorgeous.

“No!” Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “What we did-you and me-that cannot happen again! You’re an attending, and I’m your intern! It’s wrong on so many levels.”

(this isn’t exactly) where you’d want me by decideophobia

(1/1 I 19,070 I Teen)

“Do you even have any nice and soothing words in your repertoire?” Stiles asks, holding still while McBroody shines a light into his eyes. “Or is it only me who they let you loose on?”

“I actually just downloaded a new set of comforting phrases to use on patients this morning but I haven’t had a chance to listen to and internalize them yet. I do know how to say, Good news: you’re not dead, and We only need to take off one of your legs, though.”

OR, the one where Stiles keeps ending up in the ER and Derek almost gets brain damage from so much stupid.

Hazardous to Our Health by HenleyBeck

(6/? I 21,590 I Explicit)

Derek has just moved back to Beacon Hills and he works at the hospital with his sister. He loves his job, he loves the people he works with and then there's Stiles. Stiles who seems to pop up everywhere that Derek is and it doesn't help that everybody loves the kid. But Stiles is also the Chief of Surgery's son and there's no way he can get involved with Stiles right?

Wrong. As a doctor, Derek knows that certain things can be hazardous to one's health but sometimes it's nice to live dangerously.

Yin To His Yang by weirdwithhumor

(9/? I 26,125 I Teen)

Derek always wanted kids. He just thought he would find the perfect man, get married and settled down first.

He just never thought he would be left pregnant, unmated at nearly 30, and on a journey to become a single father.

But, Doctor! by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 30,269 I Mature)

“We had to splint a girl’s leg in a ditch,” Scott says excitedly.

“Bro, you sound way too happy about that,” Stiles complains, opening up his bag and pulling out a Twinkie.

Derek removes it from his hand silently and replaces it with an apple. Stiles scowls at him for a second then bites into it, regardless. Derek sits back and lets the group discuss the merits of dramatic lifesaving feats for winning over the ladies. Scott is convinced it’ll help impress Allison; Isaac thinks Scott’s a loser. Stiles—

Stiles is falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder.

AND

@wolfspurr suggested this one!

No Superman by WhoNatural

(6/6 I 48,830 I Explicit I Sterek)

(AKA The Sterek Scrubs AU)

In which Stiles learns that med school didn’t prepare him for much at all; even the most epic of bromances can be weakened with the right amount of long, curly hair and dimples; and sometimes, first impressions aren’t all they’re cracked up to be - it’s the digging beneath the bravado that reveals who’s worth getting to know a little better.

Dr. Hale’s probably still a dick, though.

[deepspaceafterdark]

Deals with the Devil

Chapter 2 : Just Friends

MC/Zayne, MC/Sylus pairings 🖤

Tags/Content Warning ‼️: 18+, smut and descriptive sexual content.

🪐🖤✨

It’s the day of the fundraiser for the Akso hospital, and after a few hours of volunteer work I find myself taking a break on the tables outside. I scroll aimlessly on my phone when I get a text from Sylus. It’s a photo of a popular hotel in downtown Linkon with a short message.

The presidential suite is ours, meet me tonight.

I smile to myself, and while I’m deep in thought imagining what Sylus has planned, a shadow looms from behind me.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Dr. Zayne?” I say, locking my phone and turning in my seat.

His white lab coat nearly blinds me in the late afternoon sun, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Taking a break already?” He extends a hand to me and I take it, his cool fingers lingering on my wrist as he pulls me to my feet.

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately.” I say, the light crescents under my eyes all too visible.

“Defying my orders once again.” He says. “You work too hard to ignore your health, sleep is important for a hunter you know.”

He brushes a strand of my hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I say, images of my late night escapades flashing through my mind until glowing red eyes take hold of my memories.

“I’m done for the day, care to take a walk with me?” He asks.

We walk around the city chatting about the charity event and it’s massive success to raise funds for the Akso hospital research department as the sky turns from brilliant hues of orange and magenta to a calming deep azure, the stars twinkling overhead.

“You know, you never told me where you went the other day.” Zayne says, his inquiry posed as a statement.

“I had to meet a friend.” I swing our intertwined hands with each languid step.

“Your friend who owns that strange bird, I take it.” Another question that he’s too proud to ask.

I stop in front of an alley and turn my chin towards him, but before I can answer the sound of my hunter’s watch breaks up the busy white noise of the city.

“Metaflux?” Zayne asks, scanning the street for danger.

“It’s getting stronger. Over there!” I point to the alleyway beside us.

“A wanderer.” Zayne’s voice is cold as he drops my hand and steps in front of me . “Stay behind me.”

The wanderer is stronger than we expected. Caught off guard, we barely make it out alive. I’m knocked to the ground so swiftly my lungs empty as my back hits the pavement, and in a flash of vivid blue and a hail of ice the wanderer is defeated while Zayne shields my struggling body.

“Zayne.” I choke out, my hands clutching my bruised and bloody chest.

“Are you alright?” He drops to his knees beside me and surveys my wounds.

“I think so.” My vision shakes as I look into his eyes, and I notice the blood running down his arm as it soaks through his white coat. “You’re hurt.” My brow furrows as I reach out to touch him.

“Ah.” He winces, deep creases forming on his forehead.

“We can’t stay here, come on.” I pull myself up against the wall of the alleyway and link my arm through his.

“We should go back to the hospital.” He says, but I pull him the opposite way down the street.

“I know somewhere closer, do you trust me? We can’t stay here in case more wanderers appear. We’re no use to anyone in this state.”

The hotel is only one block away, and within minutes we are standing in the lobby as the other guests gasp upon seeing our injuries.

The young woman behind the front desk is too busy flirting with the bell boy to notice the state of our appearance.

“Good evening, do you have a reservation?”

“Yes.” My chest rising heavily with each breath. I realize that it might have been a bad idea to come here with Zayne, but he’s bleeding too much and needs help. “The presidential suite.” I announce.

The girl looks at us, her eyes widening as she reaches down and hands me the key. “Have a nice evening.” She says as we stumble towards the elevators.

“Wait!” We hear a voice call out, it’s the bell boy running towards us with a first aid kit.

“Thank you.” Zayne grunts from beside me. “We might need more than just some bandages.”

I can feel my phone ringing in my pocket as we approach the tall double doors of the presidential suite. My hand shakes under the weight of my own body and Zayne’s larger frame leaning on me for support as I reach towards the door handle.

“What is this?” Sylus’s voice booms in front of me, and I look up into agitated blood red eyes. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he looks Zayne up and down.

“I’m impressed, sweetie. Did you do this to him?” He grins down at us.

“We were attacked by wanderers.” Zayne says, thick drops of blood running down his hand hit the hallway’s carpet.

“He needs stitches.” My eyes plead with Sylus, and after a heavy moment passes, he rolls his eyes and gestures for us to come inside, a deep sigh escaping his throat.

“Are you hurt?” He asks as he helps Zayne down onto the black velvet lounge chair in the living room.

“I’m just a little bruised, maybe some minor cuts.” I look myself up and down, the angry claw marks throbbing across my chest.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight.” Sylus takes the first aid kit from my hand, his impatient eyes warning me not to push my luck. I wince and silently mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’. To my surprise, Sylus just winks before turning away to assist Zayne.

“Caw! Caw!” Mephisto cries from his perch above the television set while I settle down at Zayne’s side and help him wriggle free of his coat.

“This looks really bad.” I trace along his limp and bleeding arm. He forces a pained grin and catches my hand in his. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll be alright.”

“I can’t say the same for your clothes, Doctor. I’ll retrieve something of mine for you to wear. MC, get him out of that shirt so I can look at his arm.” Sylus stalks to the bedroom leaving Zayne and I alone under the prying robotic eyes of Mephisto.

The fireplace crackles from the other side of the room as I work on the small pearlescent buttons of his shirt.

“Who is he?” Zayne asks.

“Mephisto. You two have already met when he crashed into your window.” I say.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.” A low hiss emanates from his mouth as I slide the torn fabric from his body, his toned chest gleaming with sticky wet blood. I drop the shirt on the floor and start cleaning his wounds. “Can you move it at all?”

Zayne wriggles his shaky fingers, rolling his wrist slowly. “It appears it isn’t as damaged as I had assumed.” His tone is cold and indifferent.

“Promise me you won’t jump in front of me like that again? I can’t stand seeing you hurt.” Tears prick in my eyes as the adrenaline begins to dissipate and the fear of nearly losing him hits me like a runaway train.

“No.” He says.

“Zayne, look at you. You could have been killed tonight.” My fingers brush his stomach as I lean into him, my imploring eyes searching his face for connection, for a sign that he understands.

“I’ll always protect you, and correct me if I’m wrong but you are in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do. That wanderer would have killed you, I won’t let you put yourself in danger around me. Ever.” His fierce olive eyes hold me in my place until I hear Sylus clear his throat.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I was just telling Dr. Zayne how reckless his actions tonight were.” I move back onto my knees while Sylus throws down a stack of clothes onto the table. He sits down next to Zayne and begins stitching up his arm.

“This is quite deep, Doctor.” He says.

“I’m aware of that.” Zayne squeezes my hand as the thick surgical needle pierces his marred skin.

Sylus meets my gaze from opposite ends of the chaise lounge, a characteristic sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“This isn’t quite how I pictured our date going, princess. Generally my dates don’t bring a friend along.” He teases.

“And generally mine don’t take me to an obvious criminal’s hotel room.” Zayne grumbles.

I move closer to his side. “So you do know who he is? Why would you pretend you didn’t?” I ask.

“You are free to do as you please, I’ve never said otherwise. When that bird interrupted our time together I asked around about its origins.” Zayne says.

“And? What did your sources reveal? Don’t tell me that my reputation precedes me even in Linkon City.” Sylus asks.

Zayne smirks and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand. “That bird possesses technology only found in the N109 zone, Onychinus to be exact.”

I look to Sylus with a panicked glance, but he’s entirely unbothered. He takes a small vial from his breast pocket and screws the black cap from the glass. “Drink. Both of you.”

Zayne looks at the vial, and then up at Sylus. “I don’t think so.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“A healing sedative that my chemist produced yesterday. It uses protocore energy to heal even the most grave wounds. I strongly suggest you drink.” He pushes the bottle into Zayne’s hands, nodding in encouragement.

“If it heals wounds like you say it does, then why go through the trouble of stitching my arm?” Zayne asks.

Mephisto caws and flies towards Sylus who stretches a long muscular arm to catch the bird. He chuckles as he pets the crow. “I’m allowed a little entertainment for the derailment of my night.”

Zayne tries to stand but the pain of his wounds pushes him back down into the seat. With a hesitant glance in my direction, he tips the bottle to his lips and drinks half of its contents before handing it to me.

“I don’t need it I’m fine.” I push it away, my body aching from the motion.

“You could have internal bleeding, sweetie. I would never give you something harmful. Do you trust me?” Sylus reaches out and grazes my shoulder with his long fingers.

The truth is that I’m in quite a bit of pain and it would be nice to sleep without a dull ache pulling at my muscles.

I exhale and bring the bottle to lips. The black liquid burns down my throat, warming my chest as it spills into my system. The tang of metal and something indescribable leaves a thick film on my tongue.

“You must be hungry.” Sylus snaps his fingers and the door opens, a shuffle of footsteps approach us.

“Yes, Mr. Sylus?” Luke and Kieran chirp in unison.

“Wake the chef and have a full meal prepared. Five courses with wine pairings.” Sylus demands.

“Right away.”

My mouth waters as a plate of beef tenderloin in red wine reduction is set down in front of me. “I’m so hungry.” My stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“This looks good.” Zayne comments from across the table. His mood is lifting after drinking the sedative, even his wounds seem to be closing up.

“Yes well, that’s what having a black card and being the leader of Onychinus entails. The best food, the best wine, and ultimately the most exquisite company.” Sylus’s eyes are smoldering when he meets mine. His shameless suggestive comments fall on deaf ears, Zayne is engrossed in his meal and for a moment it feels like Sylus and I are alone in the room.

I take a few sips of my wine, my head beginning to spin in a euphoric haze. “I feel strange, my body is so light. That sedative is amazing, Sylus.” A lazy smile spreads across my face.

Zayne laughs. “You’ve only had one glass of wine, are you drunk already? This meat is so tender, why am I so thirsty?” He rambles, setting his knife and fork down next to his plate. He leans back in his chair and pushes his hair from his forehead.

Sylus looks back and forth between me and Dr. Zayne, a knowing smile on his chiseled face.

“Oh my god, you drugged us.” I accuse, scowling in his direction. For some reason I can’t seem to force myself to care as my brain floats around in my head.

“Amazing.” Sylus mumbles. “I was warned the sedative could elicit… strange reactions, aside from pain relief and wound healing. Tell me, what are you two experiencing?” He rests his elbows on the table and surveys us like lab experiments.

A holographic aura swirls around Sylus’s form as my eyes struggle to focus. I hear a melodic giggle echoing in my head and realize it’s me.

Zayne laughs and looks at his hands, turning them over and stares at his open palms. “I feel like the first snow of winter. Serene, drifting silently into the darkness of space.” He whispers.

Sylus produces another vial from his pocket and dumps the contents into his wine glass, and with a wink he downs his drink in one swift move.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m leveling the playing field. I can’t accidentally dose you without seeing for myself, sweetie. It’s only fair.” He waves his hand and two waiters appear, clearing our plates from the table.

“I need to lie down.” I reach out to Sylus, and in a moment he’s behind me. He lifts me up into his arms and walks me to the couch in the living room. He lays me down on my back and rests my head on his warm lap. My head spins as Sylus gently grazes his fingers through my hair, and all of a sudden I feel the warmth of Zayne’s thighs under my legs. “Zayne.” I whisper, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the fireplace.

“I’m right here.” His heavy hands weigh down my thighs as he traces circles across my leg with his thumb. We lounge across the couch until the haze of the sedative starts to wear off, but instead of my body returning to its usual alert state the euphoria is mixed with a certain type of hunger that grips my insides with such force that my legs press together. A soft moan escapes my lips while I nuzzle my face deeper into the silky fabric of Sylus’s pants.

“Are you alright, princess?” His heavy breaths make his chest rise and fall quickly, and I turn to look up at his face. His eyes fall closed before he lets his head lean on the back of the couch. Need pulses in my core, and I can’t help but to reach out and touch his bare chest between his unbuttoned shirt.

“Mmm.” Sylus moans, his hand finding its way to the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of my black leather pants.

I feel Zayne shift under me, his hands traveling from my knee up to my inner thighs, his touch growing stronger and more needy as his nails scrape the stiff fabric.

“You let all your friends touch you like that?” Sylus leans down and growls in my ear, his eyes locked on Zayne’s exploring hands.

“Me?” Zayne asks. “I was under the assumption that you were the friend. What did you say, MC? He’s ’just someone you’ve worked with?” Zayne teases as he takes his glasses off and sets them down on the couch next to him.

I giggle to myself as I grab Sylus’s hand and tangle it into the hair closest to my scalp. “You’re both my friends.” I gasp as the pressure increases on my scalp and clench my thighs together. I feel my skin slick with sweat and have the sudden urge to throw the unbreathable fabric clinging to my body into the crackling fireplace.

“We have worked together.” Sylus drawls. “Amongst other things.”

My feet are too warm. I try to kick my shoes off but they’re not budging. Zayne sees my efforts and slowly removes them and tosses them to the rug. Sylus shifts and lowers his face to mine, his warm tongue flicking across my lips. My mouth parts, inviting him deeper inside.

“Sylus.” I moan into his lips. “It’s the sedative that’s doing this, right?”

“I regret to inform you that it can only amplify whatever desires and needs already existed, kitten. And by the way your body is reacting, it’s clear what you think about us. Or better yet.” His fingers travel to the button on my pants, and I hear a small snap as he tears it off and tosses it aside. “What you need from us.”

“Who said anything about need?” I challenge, his red eyes igniting with fire. He exchanges a mischievous glance with Zayne, and for a moment I thought at least he would have the good sense to end whatever this was, but when Zayne moves closer and pulls at the zipper of my pants I know I’m in deep, deep trouble.

“Just say the word and I’ll take you home, MC.” Zayne offers.

The thought of leaving this warm soft couch and these two beautiful men makes my chest hurt. “No.” I say. “I want to stay. I want you both to stay.” I reach my hand out to each of them, and without another word they take my hands and trail kisses along my palm. Zayne’s fingers slip into the front of my pants and pull them from my hips while Sylus stops to bite on the fleshy part of my palm beneath my thumb.

“Please.” I say, my back arches and my head falls back onto Sylus’s lap. My knee brushes against the bulge in Zayne’s pants. “Take it off.” I plead, my hands pawing at my blouse. I hear the unmistakable tear of silk as Sylus’s hands strip the tattered shirt from my chest. Two sets of hands trail across my exposed skin, my eyes roll back into my head when I’m pulled upright and onto Zayne’s lap.

“Come here.” Zayne demands, slipping the straps of my bra from my shoulders. I can feel my thighs slick with moisture as I grind my hips over the thick length in his pants.

Sylus rips the back of my bra from its small metal hooks, the warm air brushing my bare breasts.

“Fuck.” I hear him moan in my ear while he kisses my neck.

I can barely breathe when I hear the door to the suite open.

“Boss, there’s a problem.” Luke says before spotting the scene in progress on the couch.

“Get out!” Sylus snaps.

“Oh shit.” Kieran says as hurried footsteps travel back out into the hallway.

“Unless you’d like them to stay and watch, kitten?” Sylus asks.

“No.” Zayne says, kissing my breast before taking my nipple between his teeth and biting down.

“Ah!” My core clenches and I feel myself soak through my lace underwear.

“They don’t need to see what I’m going to do to you.” Zayne’s voice is ragged and deep as he rips the seam of my panties and pulls them from my hips. I hear the sound of clothes hitting the floor before the warmth of Sylus’s hands are all over my body, caressing my skin and taking my breasts into his large palms.

“Show me what you do with him.” Sylus pants into my ear, demanding and controlled I hear him settle down into the armchair facing the couch.

“Come back.” I beg, my words caught in my throat as Zayne unzips his pants and I feel his thick tip pry at my entrance.

“Good girls get rewards. Now, be a good girl and show me what you let him do to you when I’m not around.”

I dig my nails into Zayne’s shoulders, feeling him stretch me as he pushes inside. “So wet.” He moans into my neck.

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at Sylus through half lidded eyes. With his legs stretched in front of him and his tall form leaning back in the chair he looks like a king watching his subjects entertain him. Only a pair of black underwear conceals him, and my legs shake thinking about all the nights he made me scream his name.

“Show me what made you so sore last week that I had to be gentle with you all night.”

I hear a sharp scoff from Zayne before he grips my hips so hard I can feel finger shaped bruises form. He bucks his hips up into me and stretches me out until I bury my face into his neck.

“Is this where you disappear to at night? After spending the afternoon in my bed, MC? Both of us in one day, that’s quite the accomplishment.” I feel myself drip down his thighs as he fucks me hard, each thrusts feels like both a punishment and a reward for my secrecy.

Sylus’s underwear hits my back, and my core aches with desperate need while I grind myself down onto Zayne. Knowing that Sylus is watching, touching himself and getting off to me fucking another man makes the air leave my lungs. I need more.

“Come here.” I say, reaching backwards to Sylus.

“Not yet, sweetie. Be patient.” He says.

Zayne shifts under me and thrusts harder, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes my body shake and my eyes roll back.

“Oh god.” I moan, throwing my head back and letting my lips fall open.

“Remember this the next time you choose to ignore my directions, MC.” Zayne grips my jaw, slipping two fingers into my mouth. “We could have gone back to the hospital, and now look at you. Coming apart on my cock while a crime lord watches me destroy you.”

My hands fly to his head, twisting into the roots of his stark black hair and holding on for dear life. Zayne groans and pushes me onto my back, pinning my wrists down with one hand while he throws my legs up and over his shoulders.

Sylus silently rises from the chair and kneels next to the couch, his hand caressing my cheek. “I need you.” I say. “I need both of you, now.”

“Did he make you come, kitten?” Sylus rolls my hardened nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, a primal shudder wracking up my spine. “Mmmm.” My core pulses and I feel hot liquid splash across my thighs onto Zayne’s stomach.

“Just a little more.” Zayne moans as I pulse and tighten around his cock. “You’re almost there, I can feel it.” He says, his voice steady as he encourages me to come apart for him.

I can feel him harden inside of me. “Wait.” I say, but my words are cut off as I implode. “Good girl.” Sylus purrs in my ear as my back arches off the couch and I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that fractal patterns appear behind my eyelids. My body shakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods my nervous system, my fingers locking up from my death grip on the couch.

“Fuck!” I hear Zayne curse before his cock pulses inside of me, thick hot liquid filling me up until it spills out of me and onto the couch.

Sylus pushes my sweat slicked hair from my forehead and places my hand around his length. “Look how hard you make me, kitten.”

As I float back down into my body, I know that I need more. I’m insatiable, and with Zayne’s cum still dripping down my body I pump my fist around Sylus until I hear him shudder and moan. “You wanted both of us, right, sweetie?” I hear the sadistic edge to his voice as Zayne strokes his tip across my entrance. All of a sudden I’m pulled forward onto Zayne before he pushes back inside of me, and I feel Sylus settle against my back.

“Lie down on him.” He demands. I do as I’m told. “Now, relax and let me give you what you begged for.”

“Ah!” I wince as a sharp pain shoots through my core. Sylus pushes his tip into my entrance and holds my hips in place while Zayne moans into my ear. After a few moments the pain subsides and Sylus’s thrusts become deeper, more fervent. I arch my back and push into him, my body aching for more.

“So greedy.” Zayne says while he moves slowly under me. “Taking us both in one hole. Such a needy girl.”

I can feel them pressed against each other inside of me, their moans growing deeper with each thrust. My abdomen tightens and winds so tight I’m worried I’ll explode. Zayne pushes his fingers into my mouth while Sylus circles the tight exposed hole above my entrance before slowly pushing it inside.

“Look at you, all filled up.” Sylus says, lust permeating the air as thick as poison gas.

“Please.” I beg, but my voice is muffled by Zayne’s hand.

“Come again.” Sylus demands, his other hand reaching down to circle my clit. With soft gentle strokes he plays with me until I feel another splash of liquid run down my thighs, coating Zayne’s core and dripping onto Sylus’s hand. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks up the taste of me like he’s sampling the most divine meal of his life.

“So fucking sweet.”

I grab Zayne’s wrist and force his hand around my throat, beckoning him to squeeze harder. “Mmm, you’re determined to be punished, aren’t you MC? Tell me, are you going to let him cum inside of you? You’re truly an overachiever, letting two men breed your tight little pussy in one night.”

And at that, I lose all control over myself. I bite down onto Zayne’s fingers as he squeezes my neck until I almost lose consciousness. I let my trembling body collapse onto him as I pulse uncontrollably around both of their cocks.

“Godamn.” Sylus breathes onto my neck, and I feel him harden and release the hot liquid he’d saved for me deep inside.

A few minutes pass before I’m able to move, or even register where my body is in space as I come down from the single most intense orgasm of my life.

Zayne cups my cheeks with his hands, looking deep into my eyes with a playful gratitude. “Are you satisfied now?” He asks.

Slowly, Sylus pulls out of me and gently pulls me up and back into his chest, kissing my forehead and hugging me close. “Was that everything you wanted and more, Princess?”

I laugh, the sound of my own voice echoing in my ears. “Yes. To both of your questions, friends.” I emphasize my last word with lighthearted sarcasm, prompting a groan from Zayne and an eye roll from Sylus.

“I’m so tired.” I yawn, letting my body sink down into the couch between both men.

“Then get some sleep, you need it.” Sylus kisses me softly.

“You might need more of that sedative. After all, I think you’d have been less sore from the wanderer attack than what we’ve done to you.” Zayne says.

Once again the door opens to the sound of hurried footsteps.

“Boss, it’s really important.” The twins grumble in unison.

“I told you both that now isn’t a good time. Remove yourselves from my suite this instant and if you come back and make me repeat myself you can expect a bullet in each one of your knees.” Sylus reaches toward the pile of clothes on the floor and produces a black handgun, waving it through the air with a nonchalant motion.

They scuttle away and leave us to the sounds of the dying fire once again.

“Apparently being obeyed is too much to ask these days.” Sylus grumbles.

“I don’t know about that, if you recall I did everything you asked.” I say, a teasing smile on my face as my eyes close and I begin to drift off to sleep.

“Get some rest, both of you. Your injuries are almost healed. I have some business to attend to, but I’ll be back to drive you home when you wake up.”

My heart is glowing like the embers flickering in the fireplace, and with heavy eyelids I drift off into a dream of Sylus and Zayne, the two men I can proudly call my friends.

[psychotic4ghost]

Strength Together a story by Psychotic4Ghost

TW: Slight mentions of cancer WC: 1.7k

Masterlist Chapter 2 ->

Time was never on her side. It seemed as if Ophelia's heavenly clock was always fighting against her. She watched as the analog clock ticked by slowly. The second hand was nothing but a tease as she waited for her lunch break to end. Ophelia had been working on another cancer study and she would have started working on it sooner, clocking in before her lunch was even over, had she not done exactly that seven times this week. The hospital she worked for currently was growing tired of her putting in so much overtime. Some were worried for her health while others didn’t want to pay for the overtime. 

She never pushed herself intentionally. Time slipped from her mind as easily as pudding through a fork. The moment the clock struck 3:30 pm, she clocked in on her computer as quickly as she could before returning to her studies. 

“Dr. Burns?” a small rap came from her door as a petite, older lady knocked. She was always so considerate of Ophelia’s space so when she did interrupt, Ophelia knew it must be important. With a slip of an irritated sigh, not directed at Ms. Lauren, she turned herself in her stool to face the swinging door of the white medical lab. 

The lab consisted of completely white walls with black desks and black leather stools. It was a small ten by twelve room but it was all Ophelia needed. Scattered around her workstation were spiral notebooks, all filled to the last page and loose pieces of printer paper containing all the charts and graphs she needed for her research. 

“Yes, Ms. Lauren?” Ophelia cleared her throat, trying to sound as polite as possible. Ms. Lauren didn’t deserve Ophelia’s irritation. Her smooth, London accent poured from her in a soft manner as she attempted to act calm. 

“This is Captain John Price, he wishes to speak with you about an important matter.” Ms. Lauren also had a smooth London accent which was what the two were able to bond over so quickly as they were both in Texas at the moment. 

“Thank you for letting him in, I can take it from here.” Ophelia nodded politely to the short little lady. As she moved to her side to slip out the door, the full sight of the Captain that stood behind her was now on view for Ophelia. 

“Captain, come in. Sorry for the mess. What can I help you with?” Ophelia asked as she stood, straightening her lab coat before extending a hand for him to shake. 

He happily shook her hand before they both took a seat, her in her original seat and him in a stool just across from her own. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m here to speak with you about an important proposition.” 

Ophelia focused her sight on the man before her. He wore a fisherman's hat, a black button down jacket and standard denim jeans with black combat boots. His eyes were soft and kind with a smile that was outlined by connected mutton chops. 

“On behalf of the British task force 141, I’d like to extend an invitation to be our personal doctor. The pay is higher, there is a chance for travel, and you’ll receive your own suite on the base.” He spoke in a Liverpudlian accent, one she was used to hearing back home. He must have flown far to meet me. 

“What’s the occasion, and why of all doctors, me? I have no ties with the military, nor do I have any experience.” 

“I’ve read your bio, you’re insanely smart and with how quickly you’ve earned your degree has stood out to me and my team. It was a group decision.” His professionalism dropped the more he spoke. “We need someone who can keep up with a team like ours. I’m sure you’ve done your research on the medical field in the military but this is different. The conditions are better and we need someone with your skill set. Not many doctors can deal with what I’ve seen in your file.” He laughed about the last bit as if mutilation was a joking matter to him. 

Ophelia had seen her share of gore. It wasn’t something she sought out, but it seemed to be more of her cases. “It’s something I’ll have to think about.” there was a pause as she thought. “Why not ask all of this in an email or a letter?” 

“I like to do things in a more personal way. Plus I wanted to see how tall you were.” Price chuckled to himself as he eyed her up and down. 

Disbelief at his humor struck Ophelia, a shocked expression was quick to over take her features. “Didn’t mean to offend.” Price added while still laughing to himself softly. 

“J-just leave your email or mailing address and I’ll get back to you with my answer. I need a few days to think about this. I’d be uprooting everything to move.” Ophelia quickly interjected as she straightened out her already flat lab coat. 

“No need, I’m staying in the hotel down the street. Just stop by with your answer and we can get a move on then.” Price said with a smile as if he knew he had already won.

“I-” before she could retort, he cut her off. 

“Just don’t take too long to give me your answer. We’re planning a mission soon and as good as Simon is with taking the lead, I want to be there for this one too.” 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Price didn’t linger that day, it wasn’t long till Ophelia was by herself again. Better pay was something she was always seeking as living was so expensive, however that would seem pointless if she were to be given her own living quarters. Did she really need better pay then? But he did say they needed someone of her skill and she would never back down from a challenge. 

Ophelia paced her small apartment for what felt like hours that night after work, contemplating her options. She was hung up on the idea of a new challenge as she was growing bored of her current situation. The research she was currently pursuing was something any doctor or even medical student could do, so she wouldn’t be leaving much behind. Plus, this team seemed special, redacted almost with how he explained it to her when she had inquired more about it before he left. The thrill was eating at her. 

Laying with her eyes wide open as she studied the popcorn ceiling in her older apartment, she couldn’t contain her excitement anymore. She had made her decision hours ago and thought to wait till morning but she couldn’t sleep. Ophelia slipped herself out of her plush bed and found the first pair of warm pants she could. It had been raining for the last few days in the part of Texas she was in. She slid her feet into her slip ons before heading out the door. She lived right next to the hospital so her walk was short to the hotel. She gave her umbrella a twirl as she entered the double doors of the hotel, shaking off the water droplets. 

“Can you tell me which hallway leads to room 135?” Ophelia asked as she placed down a small card with the room number written on it alongside a phone number. 

The lethargic looking clerk pointed down one of the two hallways with no words. Night shift must suck. Ophelia gave him an apologetic smile before thanking him and heading down the hall. 

She counted the doors as she approached the Captain’s room. With a small bounce to her feet, she stopped just outside door 135. I hope I don’t wake him. Two small knocks landed on the door as her small knuckles touched the cool metal. Not even a minute passed before the door swung open. 

There he stood, the man she was looking for. Though this time he only wore black sweats, slippers and an army green t-shirt. She could see just how built this older man was under his now tighter fitting shirt. 

“Should I call the plane?” He asked before she could even say ‘hello’.

“I-um. Plane?”

“How do you think I got here? England is overseas. I certainly did not swim.” He said with another one of his teasing laughs. “Come in, they don’t heat the hallways very well.” 

Ophelia hadn’t noticed how cold the hallway was compared to the warmth that radiated from the open door before her. She took a small step inside, staying close to the door as Price began repacking his bag. He hadn't seem to have removed much from his duffle as it only took a few minutes to repack it before he sat on the edge of the bed to change from his slippers to his boots. 

“Let’s get a move on back to your place so you can pack. Don’t worry about all your stuff, you’ll only need the essentials for now. We can come back for more later.” Price informed as he slung his duffle over his shoulder and gently shifted Ophelia over so he could open the door she was blocking. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Ophelia didn’t get to speak much as he seemed to have all the answers to every question she was going to ask before she could even open her mouth. It didn’t take long for her to pack her bags or for the plane to arrive. It was a private military plane that landed on a small air base just outside of town. 

It was a small plane but it was comfortable enough for her to fall asleep moments after take off. Price let her sleep as he too, rested his eyes for the next few hours. The ground slowly disappeared from below them as they slept in seats across from each other. It would be a long flight back to her home country and she planned to talk his ear off with every question she could think of, if he didn’t read her mind and answer it before she could open her mouth again.

Chapter 2 -> Story Masterlist // Main Masterlist

[tashajan]

ABORTION: A matter of women’s right, health and justice.

The fight for the right to legal, safe abortion isn’t just about political ideologies. It’s all about life or death, health and safety, rights, and justice. Women’s bodies and their choices and future should never be up for debate. Although this topic quite controversial to even begin with but I want to use this opportunity to raise my voice about why should we legalize abortion. This issue makes a big slap in women’s world ever since The Government of United States banned women to get their fetus for abortion. Furthermore, there so many reasons why we strongly need to legalize abortion. So, let’s get into it.

In my opinion, women deserve full control over their bodies. For over a decade, long woman doesn’t have that many rights compare to man. We were told how to behave, how to wear or what to do to our body to be accept to the community and be treated fairly. Bodily autonomy isn’t up for negotiation. Every woman should have decision about her own body including whether to carry a life inside their womb. When abortion is criminalized, it strips women of this basic human right. The United Nations itself recognizes access to safe abortion as essential for women’s health and equality. Yet, in many countries the right is denied, forcing women to into unsafe, life-threatening situation. Legalizing abortion puts the power back where it belongs which is in the hands of women.

Don’t you think criminalizing abortion kills women? Let’s be clear, making abortion illegal doesn’t stop it from happening. It just makes it dangerous. Every year, according to the World Health Organization, 25million unsafe abortion take place. This result in about 47,000 preventable deaths of millions of women suffering from severe complications. How sad to hear this. Countries like south Africa saw maternal deaths plummet after they legalized abortion, proving that when women have access to safe procedures, lives are saved. To me banning abortion isn’t “pro-life” but it is a dangerous, sickening, irresponsible and lethal act.

Legalization abortion empowers women economically. From my standpoint, denying women access to abortion forces them into a cycle of poverty and limits their future opportunities. Guttmacher institute show research that women who can make choices about their pregnancies are more likely to complete their education, secure better jobs, and achieve financial independence. Based from The Turnaway study, women denied abortions are more likely to fall into poverty. Legal abortion gives women the chance to build a life on their own terms, which benefits everyone including, families, communities, and society.

Legalization doesn’t increase abortion rates. As for me, I believe that legalizing abortion doesn’t make abortion more common but it makes it much more safer. Countries with comprehensive reproductive healthcare, like the Netherlands, have some of the lowest abortion rates in the world because they prioritize education and access to contraception. The argument that legalizing abortion leads to more abortion is a myth only. So…..what actually leads to fewer abortion? The answer is legal access, sex education, and affordable healthcare.

As far as I’m aware no women should be forced to carry a pregnancy from rape or incest, or one that could possibly endanger her life. Forcing women to endure is a cruel act, inhumane, and a violation of their rights. Take the tragic case that took place in 2012, her name is Dr, Savita Halappanavar a 31-years-old Indian born dentist died in Galway, on Ireland’s west coast, after she was denied an abortion by doctors who citied the country’s strict laws, even though there was no chance her baby would survive, according to Ireland’s official report on the case. After this tragedy, Ireland repealed its Amendment.

Lastly folks before I close all of this, legalizing abortion is about more than reproductive rights and it’s about women’s fundamental freedom, health, and dignity. It’s about creating a world where women aren’t forced into dangerous, back-alley procedures because they don’t have access to safe, regulated care. It’s about giving women the power to decide their futures. It also about human rights.

XOXO, TASHAJAN

[sesskag]

Hello, being following your blog for a long time now. Although I never had a tumblr account before. You are doing a great job of compiling snippets of the sesskag ship for me to explore. I remember reading about a new sesskag website plan back in like 2021/2022. PMO I think it was called. I even put a few bucks into the gofundme. Was it a failure? Cause the website doesn’t work. Any idea what happened? I don’t want to think it was a scam.

Hello, friend!

TL;DR : You have absolutely no need to worry about PMO. It was not a scam.

What I think, my dear, is that critical thinking skills are a very valuable asset in this day and age. Not taking everything you see on the internet at the face value is a healthy practice. But I also think that at the end of the day, you should still hold onto your faith in humanity.

I can't blame you for having doubts, especially when there was never too much information available on what happened with PMO, unfortunately. But fostering these kind of doubts against a fellow fan just really saddens me, because we do not need that kind of division or discord in a fandom as small as ours.

To combat the negativity of the world and the much too abundant cynicism, I prefer to err on the side of kindness and positivity. And kindness and positivity and support are definitely the kind of values we want to foster in the fandom, to keep it a safe space for everyone.

I personally donated more than a few bucks for the PMO, just as I have been donating funds for the upkeep of Dokuga multiple times over the years. SessKag fandom has been my home on the internet for a long time, and I'm happy that I'm financially secure enough to be able to help where I can. Poor Wiccan is currently paying for Dokuga's upkeep out of her own pockets. Who knows how much PMO's owner invested themselves.

You wouldn't think that Dokuga, the site that has been serving our fandom for the last 16 years, is a scam because it has had to rely on donations from the fans? Is AO3 a scam because they have annual fundraising drive? You know what what Dokuga and AO3 have in common? They're independent websites unpolluted by advertisements and third parties who want to get their hands on your personal data. How rare and amazing is that, in this day and age?

I have some idea, though certainly not all, about what happened to PMO, as I was only ever peripherally involved with the site. But as PMO themselves have not offered a full on explanation, it is not my place to make public the whole sorry saga. What I can say that there were technical issues with the site, and the party responsible for those was contracted and wholly outside our fandom.

I have nothing but compassion and admiration for PMO and what it stood for, for those several months that the site was operational. From personal experience of just hosting a few fandom blogs over here, I have some kind of a guess at how much time and energy such a huge undertaking as trying to put an entire website together for our fandom to use and then maintaining it would consume. And let's face it, most of us SessKag fans are well into our 30s or more by now. We're out here, living the busiest years of our lives and juggling to balance our love of SessKag with our other hobbies, our full time jobs, our friends and family, possibly children, possibly health issues, and with Naraku knows whatever bullshit life might deign to throw at us at any moment.

PMO's owner is a visionary, a friend, and a fellow fan I respect. They put in their best effort, and I appreciate the heck out of it. They had the best interests of our fandom

For the nearly 19 years I've been in the SessKag fandom, we have had a website of our own. First we had Single Spark, then we had Dokuga. For a brief while we had PMO. I think having our own safe corner of the internet has honestly made a real difference. We wouldn't have such a strong sense of community we do these days, if we hadn't had Dokuga forums and chatroom way before Discord or this Tumblr blog came to be. Having our own site is something I want to hold on to. And our SessKag community is something that I will always choose to believe in, 100%.

-- Admin Chie

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on As Yet Unsent: (broke it outta the panic box, now there's only Dr. Sex left)

The princess has by turns tried to charm Camilla, play with Camilla, flirt with Camilla, and cajole Camilla. Camilla is currently unmoved. This lack of response might have been dangerous except for the pouch around Camilla’s neck: the princess knows that she would have better luck flirting with the earthly remains of Palamedes Sextus. I asked Coronabeth bluntly if she had designs on Camilla, who at the end of the day, is an attractive human being at the peak of physical health, contemporary in age, and also unexpectedly knows the value of quiet. Oh no, she said, and she seemed surprised I would ask. She said, one half plus one half is only ever half.

aaaaaaaa one half plus one half is only ever half.

AAAAAAA CORONA COME ON CORONA YOU CRAZY BITCH AAAAAAAAA

Meeting in person did not, as it so often does, inoculate against hero worship. I found Dyas to exceed my impossible teenage standards. We found out that we liked the same books.

I said to Hect, I hadn’t actually read them as closely as I’d made out to the lieutenant, in that initial conversation. I had to go back and reread all of them in a hurry.

Hect said, That’s the first human thing you’ve ever told me about yourself.

This made me cry

She never took a seat when we were enduring a Fifth or Third ball. And she never let weakness master her. I said to Hect, The night after you and she fought the duel at Canaan House, when I took her upstairs and asked how she was, all Dyas said was: I need a drink.

Marta... I am weeping, Judith went through so much torture and she's still under the influence of Number Seven, I hope she gets better in Alecto

She didn’t have to tell me in so many words what we both knew, that the relationship between cavalier and necromancer could so easily curdle into codependency . . . a loss of self on both sides. An obsessive fusion of halves, not two complementary forces.

ok wow

I didn't expect As Yet Unsent would be the piece in the tlt series to touch upon the "horrors of" codependency the most. These three characters really are something else.

Every birthday we got to have one person we’d invite and our mother and father would get to invite the rest, and Ianthe always invited whoever Babs didn’t want to see at the time, and I always invited you.

ok now I'm laughing and crying at the same time

fuck the Tridentarii they're so amazing, seeing this I can't help thinking about the Unwanted Guest, and how Ianthe let go of Bab's corpse because she found out that she never could.

Jody, you can’t die on me. I’m so alone now.

At this point Ianthe's crying at night too.

I told her, Don’t cry over me, Coronabeth. You and I both know there’s no reason to.

She dried her eyes with her fists and said, Ianthe always said we were born cursed.

Mercy was at their camp? wtf I'm having a bit of trouble with the timeline

Lieutenant Dyas is dead. My own necromancer wouldn’t have me. Won’t you let me be your cavalier? Here, now, at the end of the world? Save me, Jody. Bind me to you, or who knows where I will go? What throne will I mount, if you don’t bind me down?

She's so badass that she's scared of herself. I would be too.

It is not a confession of temptation. I wasn’t tempted by Coronabeth’s offer. There was never any possibility of it. I committed the understandable crime of desire for Lieutenant Marta Dyas, having joined my hand to hers with the best and most pure of intentions. Why would I ever knowingly take Coronabeth Tridentarius’s, having desired her already for twelve long, stupid, fruitless years?

And I said, Thank you for the offer, Your Highness, but not in this life or in any other.

FILE ENDS HERE

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK

*Screaming*

FUCK

I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS

uggghhhhhhhhhhhh arghhhhhhhhh aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

At this point I'm just simply marveling at how Tamsyn writes people loving multiple people at the same time and make all the love so beautiful, she really knows her stuff.

This really broke me

[totowlff]

extra — cover up the blank spots

➝ it was supposed to be another normal day for alma, until she read the name on the form in her hands.

➝ word count: 4,8k

➝ warnings: therapy session, mental health, mentions of self-harming and suicide

➝ author’s note: this extra is something ally and i agreed to do because we saw the need to give more depth to elisabeth's questions. of course, what is reported here, as well as the clinical notes, are just simulations of what happens in a real session, based on research and our own experiences. i also take advantage of the space so that, in case you are going through a difficult time, know that you are not alone. if you are afraid to seek professional help or just need to talk, know that my askbox is always open to welcome and help you in any way.

SEPTEMBER, 2016

It was the end of the day, and Dr. Alma Messner was trying to wrap things up before heading home. She closed the window in her office, drawing the yellow curtains and turning on the desk lamp. It was a lot warmer out earlier in the day, but now that the sun was getting lower on the horizon, a distinct early-autumn chill was starting to set in. As she was waiting for her cup of tea to steep, she straightened up the cushions on the couch in her office and took a look around. 

She was very proud of her office — she’d decorated it to be bright and cheery, still cozy. It was furnished mostly in a neutral gray palette, but with pops of yellow and light blue to keep the gray from looking too gloomy. It also had a large window that looked out onto a narrow old street right next to a Jesuit church that was built in the 1600’s, right in Vienna’s Innere Stadt. She was pretty proud when she’d found the place for rent and finally opened her own psychology practice a year after getting her doctorate.

“Not bad for a girl from the hills, huh?” she thought, back then. She’d moved to Vienna from a tiny farming village in Styria when she started university. When she was younger, she never could have imagined a view like this becoming her every day. 

She sat down at her desk and discarded the teabag, leaving the mug on her desk for a few minutes to cool a bit while she got herself situated. 

This was her end-of-day ritual, once her last client left — she would spend about an hour or so updating notes from the day’s clients, have some tea, a nice peppermint variety — it struck the balance between helping her concentrate and decompress without caffeine — and enjoy the quiet of the empty office. She sat down at her desk and took her round tortoiseshell-framed glasses off and rubbed her eyes before getting started.

— Good night, Dr. Messner — someone said from down the hallway. It was her receptionist, Helena. 

— Good night, Helena. See you tomorrow — Alma said, as she opened her clinical charting software. 

She usually started with new intakes. She didn’t have one every day, and they usually didn’t take very long, because the first session was mostly sorting out release and authorization forms and getting to know a new client. An hour isn’t much time to dig in very deep.

Alma only had one new client intake today, and she felt like it was going to be… An interesting case. 

“Elisabeth R. Lauda”, she typed into the form. “30, F, Diagnosis TBD”.

Of course, Alma knew who Elisabeth Lauda was before she even set foot in the office. Daughter of an Austrian national hero. Alma had never been one to watch motor racing, but everyone in the country knew the name Niki Lauda. In spite of her famous father, Elisabeth kept a fairly low profile until very recently, when she became the star of tabloid headlines. Word had gotten out about her being together with Toto Wolff, who was a wealthy investor that had become the CEO of a Formula 1 team a few years back. It apparently had the celebrity news in Vienna all up-in-arms, because Toto was considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors.

Alma didn’t pay much attention to celebrity gossip, but she was surprised — and not, she supposed, to see Elisabeth’s name on the intake forms she’d gotten from Helena earlier on in the week. Surprised in that Alma didn’t expect the name of a minor Viennese celebrity to land in her intake basket, but not surprised in that if anybody would be having a hard time and in need of someone to talk to, it was her.

When Elisabeth’s appointment time came, Alma wasn’t really sure what to expect of the woman. She’d not ever had a client that was… Famous, if you could call Elisabeth Lauda that.

Elisabeth came for her appointment exactly on time — early, actually. Alma went out to the clinic’s waiting room to greet her, and to bring her back to the office.

She was wearing a pair of nice jeans, a light blue dress shirt that seemed like it was perfectly tailored, and her dark hair was up in a high ponytail. Alma noted that she had on light, natural-looking makeup. 

“Well, at least she’s probably not expecting to cry”, she thought.

Somehow, Alma felt almost underdressed in comparison, despite wearing a pair of dress slacks, ballet flats, and a blazer. 

Elisabeth was quiet, but she had an imposing presence, somehow.

She had inquisitive blue eyes that traveled around Alma’s office, taking everything in. Alma noticed that Elisabeth also had very good posture, and sat down on the couch very gracefully. She had a very firm, confident handshake as well. 

— It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Lauda. I’m Dr. Messner, but feel free to call me Alma.

— It’s nice to meet you too, Alma. And, please, call me Elisabeth.

— Wonderful. We’ll just discuss some basics first. I usually look at this first meeting as an assessment session. This means that I'll be asking you some questions to get an understanding of what brought you here and to get to know a little more about you. We might skip around a little, but this time together will give us each a chance to see if we’d work well together and how I can best help you. Does that sound okay?

— That sounds fine — Elisabeth said. Her voice was quiet, her arms were crossed. Alma recognized her body language as closed off, almost withdrawn. She hoped that talking to her a bit would open things up.

— Now, first things first: what brings you to therapy? — Alma asked. Almost immediately, she noticed that Elisabeth started fidgeting with a ring on her left hand, a small, platinum-colored one that looked almost like a clasp, lined with clear stones. 

— Well — Elisabeth said, before taking a deep breath in — My, um, partner suggested it. He’s been seeing a therapist for a long time, and he thought it might help me. We’ve been together for a few years already, but he’s… In the press all the time, because of his job. Our relationship recently went public, I guess you could say, and all of the attention has been making me a little…

She paused, furrowing her brow.

— Anxious. And I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I’ve been having these episodes, anxiety attacks, I guess. When I get them, I feel this overwhelming fear. And then my heart starts pounding, I feel like I can’t breathe, I can’t stop crying.

Alma frowned.

— I’m sorry you’ve been going through that. I could see how that would be a stressful situation for you. When did these episodes start happening, and how frequently have they been happening?

— I’m… Not sure how to answer that — Elisabeth said — I first started having them when I was in school, probably since I was 13 or 14. I got picked on a lot. And I’d get this tight feeling in my chest whenever I had to present something in class. I thought about… Um, ending my life a few times during my teenage years, but I never… Followed through. I suppose, once I went to university, and started working after graduating, it was manageable, but it’s been getting bad again lately with the attention of the press.

Alma saw that Elisabeth wasn’t looking at her as she spoke. Her gaze was seemingly fixed on the area rug between them, and she was still playing with her ring.

— I see. Have you been to any sort of therapy or counseling before?

— No… I didn’t want my parents to think something was wrong with me — Elisabeth said, quietly.  

— Well, if it helps any, I am glad you are here — Alma said — I know starting something like this is often difficult, but I think taking the first step shows a lot of bravery. And your partner, he must care a lot about you if he encouraged you to take that step. Now, would you mind telling me a little bit about him?

Elisabeth lifted her head back up and her expression turned into a fond smile. 

— Well, his name is Torger, but he goes by Toto. He is a little bit older than me but that never mattered between us. We met when my father went into a new business venture with him, with both of them as investors. Our relationship started slowly, because of the process of... Accepting my own feelings towards him. I knew from the first time I met him that I was attracted to him, but I was afraid. 

She took a small pause.

— We had some trouble here and there, and we finally ended up getting together two years ago. I wish I hadn’t been so stupid and cowardly and had just accepted that I was in love with him earlier. He is the best person I have ever met in the whole world. He’s been through so much in his life, and he can still look forward to every day with a smile. He’s very busy, because of work and traveling, but he tries to be present. Not only for me, but for his two kids. He’s less of a partner to me, and more of a best friend. I know I can count on him in good times and in bad. I really love him, Alma. He’s the love of my life, the kind you always see in fairy tale cartoons and movies. He’s the only one for me.

Alma raised her eyebrows. She was surprised at how effusive Elisabeth was. Until that point, it felt like Elisabeth was hesitating, maybe even uncomfortable, but asking about her partner broke the dam. It was something worth remembering — talking about things that clients felt strongly about or were willing to talk about at length was helpful in case they started withdrawing, or shutting down. 

— He sounds like a wonderful man. And how about the rest of your family?

— My father was a racing driver in the 70’s and 80’s. He was very talented. When he retired, he dedicated himself to his business ventures — Elisabeth smiled — He is one of a kind, if I can say anything. He’s serious and focused, but he has kind of a mischievous side, too. My mom was a model, but once she had me and my brothers, she decided to be a stay-at-home mother. She’s amazing. She’s so kind and understanding. I was lucky to have such a good example of a happy marriage with the two of them.

— That’s wonderful. How about your brothers? How many do you have?

— Two. I’m the youngest. My oldest brother is named Lukas. He’s seven years older than me, but we’ve always gotten along really well, he’s very supportive and caring. My other brother, Mathias, however… Our relationship is… A bit more difficult. We used to be pretty close. Not as close as Lukas and I always were, but the three of us always got along growing up. Mathias is married and has two kids. But my brother… He still has a really childish way of dealing with things.

Alma tilted her head a bit.

— Hm. What makes you say that, if you don’t mind me asking?

— Well, I didn’t notice it at first — Elisabeth said. She shifted a bit on the couch, and her gaze went back to her lap — But when Toto and I got together, I was afraid of what my dad would think. Everyone liked my dad, but he said time and time again that he didn’t have any friends, but Toto sort of became the first person he considered a friend. And I felt sort of… Ashamed about dating the one person my dad considered his friend.

Alma spotted it again — the fidgeting with the ring. Some people’s body language was hard to read, but Elisabeth’s was loud and clear. “She would probably be a terrible poker player”, Alma thought. 

— We also thought it would be best if we stayed out of the public eye for a while, because Toto is pretty well-known and had kind of a… What’s a nice way to put this? A reputation in the press for being a bit of a playboy — Elisabeth chuckled a bit, and then continued — But, after a few months, my brother caught us in an, um, compromising position, and connected the dots. I asked him not to tell anyone, especially dad, and he told me I…

Elisabeth took a deep breath in. Her voice had started to crack a little.

— That I broke my father’s trust by involving myself with Toto, and that I betrayed him. And that… Absolutely shattered me.

She clenched her jaw, as a stray tear rolled down her cheek. 

— I hesitated getting together with Toto in the first place because I wasn’t sure how my dad would react, and he tried to use that against me, knowing that I didn’t want to hurt my dad’s feelings. And he started talking about how I was always the perfect child and dad’s favorite, or something, because he was always kind of rebellious, always getting into trouble with our parents for doing things they told him he couldn’t do, like competitive go-karting, and…

Elisabeth swallowed, and more tears started coming. Alma plucked a box of tissues from her desk, and leaned over to offer it to Elisabeth. She accepted the box, taking two tissues out to dab at the corners of eyes, and set the box next to her on the couch. 

— Thank you. Um, anyway, I kind of negotiated with him to not tell dad, but our relationship was revealed through an Instagram mishap, and he had just been waiting for a good opportunity to sell me out, in a way.

Alma frowned, but tried to keep her expression soft.

— I’m so sorry, Elisabeth. That sounds awful. Family is complicated sometimes, and I can definitely see how that would be causing you a significant amount of anxiety, especially because I am sure that your brother was someone you had trusted in the past.

— Yes. My relationship with Mathias was good. We had our differences, but I loved him. I supported his racing career, and I helped him build it. I still do love my brother. I love my sister-in-law, and I love my two nephews. But right now, our family feels like it’s broken in half because of me, and I feel — Elisabeth turned her head again, looking out the window. Her voice went soft and quiet — I just feel so guilty about it, all the time.

Alma felt horrible for the woman. If the two of them were just friends casually chatting, she would’ve told Elisabeth her brother sounds like a piece of work, or something far less friendly, but she had to be somewhat indifferent as a clinician and professional. Plus, it was their first session.

— If it helps, I don’t think you have any reason to feel guilty about this — she said. 

Elisabeth turned to face her again.

— But — she started, but didn’t continue.

— It sounds like your brother was just acting out on feelings that he hasn’t resolved. I don’t know him, so I can’t say what they are, precisely, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything that you need to feel guilty about, at least to me.

— If Toto and I wouldn’t have started dating, my brother wouldn’t have gotten upset with me — Elisabeth said.

— That might be true, but there’s a difference between guilt and responsibility. They’re very different, and reframing how you think about your actions may help. Responsibility is recognizing that all of our actions have some sort of consequence, major or minor, positive or negative. But guilt is the feeling that comes from the fact that people always want things to happen the way we want them to.

Elisabeth’s expression was skeptical, almost confused. 

— What I mean is, yes, you starting your relationship did have the outcome of your brother being upset with you and trying to make you feel guilty about it. But Mathias is feeling hurt from something else, and is using this issue to take his own pain out on you, and you’re not to blame for that. Does that make sense?

— Yes, but — Elisabeth pursed her lips, and looked at Alma like she wasn’t sure what to say — How do I stop feeling so guilty, then?

Alma sat back in her chair a bit.

— Unfortunately, it is a bit of a process. But it’s one of the things I hope to be able to help you with during our time together, reframing the thinking patterns and behaviors that are causing you distress. Speaking of which, and not to change the subject, but I just wanted to ask you something. You mentioned that you were experiencing anxiety or panic attacks recently, correct? When did they start?

Elisabeth tightened her fists, digging her nails into her palm. The tissues she’d used to wipe her eyes with a few minutes ago were now crushed into a dense ball. Her jaw was clenching. 

— Y-yes. It was… Last weekend, when the worst one happened. I was in Belgium for a race with Toto. It was the first race after our relationship went public. There were a lot of people… A lot of cameras. I already hate publicity, so I was already uncomfortable, but then the reporters started asking questions about our relationship, their questions were really… Ugh, invasive. And then, one of them said something that brought up some really awful memories for me, and that’s what started it. Before I realized it, I was sitting on the floor of my partner’s office, crying. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I kept thinking about was how stupid and ugly I am. I felt like I was back in middle school, with other kids laughing at me, calling me…

Elisabeth had started crying again, trying to talk between sniffles and sobs. Alma fought down the urge to get up and hug the poor woman. It wasn’t as if she’d never hugged a client, but never on the first appointment, before she was sure the client wouldn’t be receptive or made uncomfortable by the gesture. 

— Calling me ugly, or fat, or stupid. I kept trying to hurt myself, scratching and punching myself, and I didn’t really realize what was happening until Toto tried to stop me. And I just felt so awful, because I made him so upset, because he was worried about me. I felt like I was ruining his life by being so fragile and sensitive all the time, and that I’m just a burden, something he needs to take care of.

Elisabeth took another tissue out of the box next to her and scrubbed at her eyes again, and wiped her nose, which had started running. 

— I’m so sorry you had to go through that — Alma said, quietly — I can’t imagine how awful that must have felt, but as I said, we can work on how to reframe those thoughts with the goal of decreasing your anxiety. But I do want to focus on that last part. The way you’ve talked about your partner, and the fact that you said he was the one that encouraged you to seek out someone to talk to, that shows me that he really loves you, that he cares about you.

Elisabeth sniffled a bit, and blew her nose again.

— Sorry about crying so much — she murmured — I honestly didn’t expect it to be this hard to talk about my feelings.

Alma shook her head.

— No, don’t worry. It’s completely normal. You’re not the first, you won’t even be my last today. This is a safe space to express whatever emotions you need to. I am concerned, though, about you saying something about you trying to hurt yourself. Have you felt those kinds of feelings at all since the anxiety attack?

Elisabeth sighed, her breath shaking a bit.

— I wasn’t doing it to myself on purpose. It was kind of unconscious, but I felt angry at myself for letting the press get to me so much, so I kind of, I don’t know, took it out on myself. I haven’t felt like that since, though.

Alma nodded.

— Okay. That’s good, but just in case you do have any thoughts or urges to harm yourself, my phone number is on the paperwork that my receptionist, Helena, should have given you. Please, call me any time, and I will answer if I can. I will not be mad. If I can’t answer, there’s also an emergency crisis line that is always open. Please don’t hesitate or feel guilty about using either number - it’s what I give them to you for, okay?

Elisabeth nodded tentatively.

— I… Okay.

Alma glanced at her watch — she normally hated to do it during an appointment, because it could make some clients feel anxious or guilty, but she had to keep on a schedule somehow. 

— Before we end our session today, I just wanted to try and see what your goals are with starting our work together. Like, what kinds of things you’re hoping for, what kinds of things you might have reservations about, or are unsure of. That way, I know before we start developing your treatment plan, and you can decide if you’d like to continue working together.

Elisabeth looked thoughtful, and leaned forward a bit.

— I guess… I want to get better. I want to be able to see myself in a positive light. I want to see what others see when they look at me, and not see myself as the same scarred teenager I was in middle school. I want to learn how to be happy with myself, so I can stop feeling so bad about myself all the time.

— Those are all good goals to have — Alma said — And what are your thoughts on going on medication, specifically anti-anxiety medication? It won’t be a magic solution, it’s just a tool that we use in conjunction with talk therapy to help, and it’s not right for everyone, but I can refer you if…

— No — Elisabeth said, shaking her head — I want to try it without, at least at first. My partner was on antidepressants for a while, when he started therapy, but he tapered off of them after a while.

— That’s fine — Alma said, with a nod — It’s completely up to you. I can answer any questions you have about them if you want to try them later on, but we will see where we get.

She glanced at her watch again.

— I am afraid we have run out of time for today, but it was really nice to meet you, Elisabeth. I am hoping that we will be able to work with each other and get you back to feeling your best. You can schedule your next visit with Helena on your way out, if you’d like to, or give the office a call if you’re not sure of when, just yet. But, I’d recommend weekly appointments at this point, if possible. We can cut that down once we start making some progress.

— Well — Elisabeth said, as she stood up — Once a week might be tricky with travel and everything, and the fact that I actually live in England. But I’m in Vienna a lot of the time, so we can play it by ear for now.

She took Alma’s outstretched hand, giving her a good, firm handshake again.

— It was nice to meet you too, Alma.

Alma watched as Elisabeth swiped a tissue at her eyes one last time, smiled, and turned around to walk out the door of Alma’s office, shutting it gently behind her. She still managed to look poised, even after falling apart on Alma’s couch. Alma stood, planted on the spot, staring at the closed door for a moment. She remembered she had another session coming up and got to work, throwing away the tissues on the couch and straightening up the cushions, and typing a few quick notes in Elisabeth’s new case file.

Alma thought back on their visit later as she worked on case notes, her tea getting cold.

Alma hadn’t been sure what to expect. She had clients that were wealthy, clients that were high-performers in their fields — all of them had different needs, different expectations that weighed on them, but she hadn’t had anyone yet that had the triple-whammy of growing up relatively wealthy, famous, and being accomplished — in her few years of practice, someone like Elisabeth was new to her. 

She hoped she could do something to help. Alma always hoped she could do something to help new clients, but with Elisabeth, she knew it would be tough, with her in the public eye. It would be a new challenge, for sure, and Alma only could hope that she was up to it. 

Dr. Alma Messner, PhD, BMASGK

Schönlaterngasse 11

Wien, Austria

Client Name: Elisabeth R. Lauda

Client DOB: 18/02/1986

Age: 30

Sex: F

Diagnosis: TBD

Date: 06/09/2016

Start Time: 17:03 Uhr

End Time: 17:58 Uhr

Background: Elisabeth is a 30-year old female. Currently unmarried, but has a long-term partner. Born and raised in Vienna, youngest of three children (two older brothers). Father is a businessman, formerly a race car driver (NL), mother is a homemaker (but was previously a model). Elisabeth works with her father, mostly in civil aviation investments. Entered into a new business partnership in 2012 and met her long-term partner as a result. Partner (TW) is a 44 year old male. He is previously married and has two children (ages 15 and 12, boy and girl). Client also has two nephews, no children of her own.

Client’s Subjective Concerns/Chief Complaint: Client has been experiencing what she believes are anxiety attacks and recurrent episodes of anxiety, including anxiety attacks. Scheduled appointment at the suggestion of her partner (TW). Her last anxiety attack was triggered by a journalist asking invasive questions about her relationship and appearance, involving inadvertent self-harm (hitting self). Client’s work does involve running into journalists. Was  Client is hoping to work on strategies for reducing anxiety and increasing self-confidence. 

Clinical Observations:  Client did not appear disheveled or exhibit any signs of immediate distress. Sat in a rigid posture, but appeared to be fidgeting as the session progressed, especially with her hands. Kept playing with a ring on her left hand. Client also spoke quickly, and sounded rather nervous, and did cry when recalling recent traumatic events. No signs of hallucinations, delusions, bizarre behaviors, or any other indications of psychotic process. Associations are intact, thinking is logical, and thought content is appropriate. Does not seem to be experiencing suicidal ideation, despite mentioning inadvertent/unconcious self-harm during recent anxiety episode. Cognitive functioning and fund of knowledge is intact and age-appropriate. Short and long term memory is intact. Client is fully oriented. Social judgment seems intact. Signs of anxiety consistent with client’s self-reported concerns. Not presently on any medications, has no previous diagnoses of mental illness. Reports experiencing suicidal thoughts and ideations during teenage years, did not seek any interventions or therapy. Did not report acting on them. 

Issues and Stressors Discussed/Session Description: Client discussed experiencing a panic attack triggered by questions from the media. Discussed history of her current relationship with her partner, and relationship with her siblings and parents. Client has recently gone public with her relationship and has been facing pressure from the media, as her partner is a somewhat notable public figure due to his job. Client reports feeling low self-esteem and self-worth, stemming from adolescence and being made fun of in school. 

Interventions/Methods Provided: Discussion of symptoms, identification and explorations of emotions, recommendation of supportive counseling. Patient is hesitant about starting medication, and recommended starting out with talk therapy/CBT for now. 

Assessment: Client’s endorsed symptoms and demeanor are all consistent with generalized anxiety disorder. It is likely that she had coped with symptoms before, but increased stress about her relationships with family and her partner have caused symptoms to become problematic. Client has not expressed active desire to self-harm, does not appear to be at risk of suicide at this time, but referred her to contact myself or emergency services in case of ideation occurring. Client does not appear to be suffering from depression. 

Plan: Client will call to schedule the next appointment (unable to make consistent appointments due to travel schedule) and we will discuss further treatment steps. Will have client start keeping a mood log to start to identify patterns in thinking. 

Next Appointment: TBD

Clinician Signature: ____________________________________

Clinician Printed Name: Dr. Alma Messner, BMASGK

[itsthatpearl]

layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Hannibal x F!OC

His Amuse-Bouche

Chapter 1: "Run, Rabbit, Run"

AO3 LINK

Beth is a young woman struggling with her past. When her mysterious psychiatrist offers to help her, she finds herself in a situation no-one wishes to be in.

Word count: 2k

Thank you Ziggy and my partner Kris for beta reading <3

TW: THIS IS A HORROR FANFIC. MAJOR DEAD DOVE. SPECIFIC TRIGGERS ARE LISTED, BUT THEY CAN SPOIL THE STORY, SO IF YOU WANT TO ENJOY THE HORROR AS BEST AS YOU CAN, GO STRAIGHT TO THE STORY.

SPECIFIC TRIGGERS: Mental health issues (depression, ptsd, anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks and dissociating), distressing impulsive thoughts, sexual tension, sexual themes, horror, gore, cannibalism, bad parenting, rough language, violence, drugs, spiked drinks, alcohol, light emetophobia.

----

“Are you still with me?” he asked.

I came back from my own world and looked at him. He looked at me with the same face he always does. You couldn't decipher his thoughts. Maybe he was just a good psychiatrist. Maybe he was dangerous for it. His tone was calm but questioning, almost demanding me back to the present. “Yes, forgive me” I chuckled nervously. “Dr. Lecter, I think I need a moment” I muttered with tears starting to gather beneath my eyes. “What happened to you was truly traumatic. It is merely understandable for you to get lost in those memories when we talk about them. Like Ernest Hemingway said; “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places”. You just need to find what makes you stay strong” he said while staring deep into my eyes. I was too afraid to look back at him. It made me uneasy. There was this weird tension I felt every time our eyes met. I had told myself it was just something my mind created with almost every man I met. Anxiety from being alone with them. Fear of being used. Fear of actually feeling anything especially with men I couldn’t have. Fear of wanting them. Him going down and removing my clothes.

I nodded quickly, took a tissue from the side table and dried my eyes softly while shaking my head. I could still feel my body and mind being on a vacation, but I didn't want him to know I had started dissociating.

“Our time is up, Beth. How do you feel now?” he asked as he always did when our session was done. “I feel good” I said maybe too quickly as I looked at him unable to meet his eyes. “Very well. I’ll see you next week then” he nodded.

I grabbed my jacket and left home as fast as I could. As soon as I got inside my house, I collapsed on the floor. I stared at the wall trying to ground myself.

“THAT’S IT! I AM SICK OF YOU WHINING EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU COME HERE. I AM YOUR FUCKING FATHER, NOT HIM. A PUSSY CAN’T TAKE TWO COCKS AND I AM DAMN SURE IT MINE THAT CREATED YOU SO STOP CALLING HIM YOUR FATHER FROM NOW OR I SWEAR YOU WILL BE SORRY FOR IT.”

I looked at my hand and rubbed each finger slowly looking at the clock. Five hours. It took me five full hours to get through what had felt like a few minutes. I stood up and looked at the door which was still open. I closed it and walked into the kitchen. Fuck. I was actually starting to do it again. I drank a huge glass of water and leaned my back against the counter. My phone buzzed but I didn’t bother to check who had texted me. I opened the fridge to see it full of nothing. I sighed and decided to once again order pizza.

“Stop being a fucking coward. Just jump. It is not so fucking hard. Why do you always have to be such a fucking pussy. You are just like your mother.”

Another nightmare. The sofa was wet from sweat. I groaned and sat up grabbing my phone. I had slept for 20 minutes and it was three in the morning. Sighing I opened the text messages:

*I think I need help*

I turned on the TV and started binge watching The Real Housewives. After four episodes my phone finally buzzed:

*18.00, come to my house, we can have an emergency meeting there*

I stared at the message in silence. His house. Today. I had been Dr. Lecter’s patient for 3 months, and never had he told me he took patients at his house too. I didn’t give it much thought and placed my phone back down. I looked at the time. It was a little over six in the morning. I sighed and continued watching The Real Housewives.

I looked at the ground. The fall was definitely more than three meters. I was shivering. Images of my back and legs breaking flashed through my eyes. I looked back at him. “I don’t know…I don’t think I want to do it” I laughed nervously

I took my jacket and breathed deep. One last look at myself from the mirror. I looked like I hadn’t slept, which made sense. Now I thanked myself for showering yesterday morning, at least I looked like I hadn’t completely lost it. I tried to flash a smile at myself but it made me feel just more insane. I took my phone and keys and left my house.

His house was magnificent. It looked tidy and simple from the outside, just like Dr. Lecter himself too. I knocked at the door sharply at six. I knew he was a punctual person, so I felt it was only polite to be perfectly on time. The door opened revealing Dr. Lecter wearing a dark gray suit. He always looked like he was about to go to a business meeting or a fancy dinner, which made him appear professional. “Good evening, Beth. Please, come in” he smiled and invited me inside. I nodded walking inside as the door closed behind me. I took a coat hanger and hung my jacket politely on the rack. I could already feel the nervousness rising in my body. “Let us talk in the living room, would you like to have something to drink? Perhaps a cup of tea?” he asked. I once again nodded adding “a cup of tea sounds good, thank you”. I walked into the living room as the doctor vanished to the kitchen.

The living room was full of art, a few beautiful chairs and a grand fireplace in the middle of the back wall. It was gray and on the top of it there were photographs in beautiful little frames. Children. One boy and a girl. One had writing on the corner: “Hannibal ir Mischa, Motinos Diena”. There is also a date, but the picture has gone wet at some point from that corner, so I was unable to decipher what it said. “Your tea is ready” I heard behind me. I turned around quickly, blushing. “I am so sorry, I was being nosy” I shake my head and walk to sit down on a chair that is facing him. “It is alright, it is a normal human reaction to start wandering around a new place” he said nonchalantly and handed me a cup. I took it nodding slowly and raised the cup on my lips. It smelled like chamomile. I blew carefully into the cup and took a sip. It was a perfect temperature, which took me by surprise. I was used to burning my tongue with tea, then placing it down and forgetting it until it was cold. But not this time, it was simply ready to be consumed.

“Have you started to see the nightmares again?” he asked, leaning slightly back in his chair. I took a sip out of my cup and placed it down. Fucking hell. How did he know I was here because of that? “Yes. It is the same one. I wake up from the floor and see the door is wide open. Then I walk to the living room and…I see the blood” I stop and look at the fireplace. The fire is dancing gracefully on top of the three logs licking them up and down. I started to actually be consumed by the sight. The fire ate out the wood destroying everything and burning it down. What if he wants to lick me out just like that fire licks the wood- no no NO. Now was not the time for thoughts like this. I shaked my head and tried to get rid of the image I had painted. It was not easy, as my body had already responded with a need for something more than just talking. “And your parents are there, in the bedroom, as always?” I heard him ask. I looked at him and blinked a few times. “Yes. As always. As they were” I nodded. For a moment he looked at me almost like he was entertained, but it disappeared as quick as he opened his mouth. “I see. I think you should see me twice per week now if your condition is taking a worse turn. And I can give you a prescription for a good sleep medication. The same one you had last time” he says and looked at my hand holding the tea cup. I could see he noticed the small indurations my palms had started to form from squeezing my nails into them. I quickly drank down the cup and placed it down covering my palms with my sleeves. “Can I use the bathroom, please?” I asked while looking at the floor ashamed. “Yes, down the hall” he nodded as I stood up and quickly walked out of the living room.

I squeezed my nails into my palms once again and opened the first door I could see. It was dark inside, and I reached out for a light switch. As the light turned on, I could see that this room was not, in fact, a toilet. It was a cleaning closet. The shelves were stacked with bleach, hydrogen peroxide, stacks of single use gloves, and other cleaning supplies. If I knew better, I would’ve said this was a cleaning closet of a serial killer. I closed the door quietly and looked at the other doors. Then I noticed one of them was slightly ajar. I opened it fully to see the bathroom. I went inside and closed the door, locking it. I sat down on the toilet, buried my head into my hands and sighed. When did my head start to feel this heavy?

“If you don’t jump now, I will leave you here. I am sick and tired of you acting this way” he spitted out. I looked at him and shaked my head in silence. “Fine. You know what, I think you can get down by yourself then” he said before jumping down. He walked inside slamming the door behind him. It has started to become dark and there I was. Alone on the roof of the house. And it had just started to snow again.

After I was done I left the bathroom quietly. I walked back to the living room to see it was empty. Maybe Dr. Lecter had gone to the kitchen. I walked to the direction he had vanished earlier to make my tea. The kitchen was tidy, but it was still full. Everything was neatly placed, but I could see he had been in the middle of cooking when I came. Vegetables were cut, everything was ready to be cooked. There was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Other one was half full, the other empty and untouched. Was he waiting for someone? And why did my head feel so heavy but light at the same time? Was the lack of sleep finally starting to affect me? I almost lost my balance and placed my hand on the counter to steady myself. I needed something with sugar, I hadn’t actually eaten anything the whole day. Maybe Dr. Lecter had juice or anything consumable in his fridge. I couldn’t even think straight anymore. I had to get something into my system. Fighting to keep my eyes closed I staggered closer to the fridge and opened it. I opened my eyes wide in horror. There was a hand wrapped in plastic foil next to the juice. “Viande découpée, I am curing it for tomorrow” a familiar voice purred behind me. “A-are you…do you…..?” I tried to say something but nothing came out of my mouth. The room started spinning and he placed his hand on my cheek and tutted “Shh. Calm down, zuiki. You will be alright”. I collapsed on the floor and fought to keep my eyes open. Last thing I could see was him hovering over me and closing my eyes with a pleased smile on his face. Then everything went black.

----

Next chapter

[rabbitcruiser]

Smile Power Day

Show off your dimples and pearly whites and harness the true power of a smile. It releases chemicals that make you feel happier, more confident, and more relaxed.

Smile Power Day is the perfect excuse to shine your pearly whites and show off those dimples. And no, a smiley face or an emoticon won’t do! Not today, at least. The smile is a symbol of happiness and vitality, a beacon of hope and an expression of emotion. So just for today, drop the ‘:)’ texts and flash them a real smile. Go on….

What is in the power of a smile, one may ask. Well, when we smile we automatically trigger our own autonomic nervous system, which releases endorphins into our blood, to trigger a happy hormone. That being said, smiling at someone else, offers a chance for them too to feel that same happy hormone. It’s a win/win situation isn’t it? Start everyday with a smile and smile at strangers, it’s good for your immune system and it brings a little cheer to an otherwise possibly dismal day (especially Mondays ey?).

The history of Smile Power Day

Nobody knows who came up with the idea of dedicating a whole 24 hours to the involuntary contraction of the zygomatic major muscle, but one thing is certain: we’re the only creatures on the planet that can do it. Whether fate smiled upon you or not, you can always find a good reason to smile. So grin from ear to ear, look on the bright side and smile your troubles away, just like the great Dr. Seuss suggested: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” You may be wondering just exactly how smiling helps us mentally, but there are many reasons to suggest that it does.

We smile involuntarily, when thinking back on fond events, or of those we love, which is certainly a good reason to celebrate. If you’re needing some more reasons as to what makes smiling such a dandy little tool, you can soak up the following information: it makes you more attractive, so they say, smiling attracts the opposite sex and highlights both your personality and radiates warmth to others. Smiling is also contagious; the only time that something contagious is good for you – it encourages and promotes a happy and healthy atmosphere and brings a sense of community. So when you’re that person who starts a chain of smiles today, be proud knowing you have created a little bit of worldly joy!

Why is smiling so good for us?

Smiling lowers your blood pressure; now this is mostly due to the fact that smiling releases that happy hormone we spoke about before. It temporarily relieves stress, so smiling more frequently will put your body into a state of relaxation. This is the same for your health, yes, smiling can in fact be a pain reliever! Allowing your body to smile and release that tension could in fact help you and if you’re skeptical on this fact, then take a look at nitrous oxide, better known as ‘laughing gas’, which has been around for years, a practical and ingenious idea to help ease your pain, so there’s even more reason to start smiling now isn’t there?

How to celebrate Smile Power Day

If you want a little boost to your self confidence, let’s say you’re waiting on that impending job interview, you might want to smile to yourself beforehand. Smile in the mirror at yourself, a power smile instils a sense of confidence into you. Continue your power smile as you shake hands at the interview and continue with a sense of calmness and contentment. Smiling can and will make you look younger, forget about the laugh lines, the most troubling of all facial wrinkles is of course the frown lines which can make us look tired and withdrawn. Smiling allows you to work those facial muscles to keep them supple, practice it as part of your skincare routine and cut back on the botox bill, it’s not rocket science, it’s smiling! 😉

Smile Power Day will also make you question just how much you smile as well as who around you takes the time to smile too. Now, sitting there all day at your desk with a grin like a cheshire cat is not going to really have much impact, however, it should get a few laughs from your fellow co-workers! You’ll start to notice the effect it has on those around you when you bring a little bit of joy into the room.

Depression itself impacts just how much happiness we feel, and many psychologists and therapists will encourage the practice of mindfulness and smiling more, connecting and feeling a more internal peace with yourself. Smiling forms a bond and connection between two people; whether that’s when they say thank you to you for holding the door open, perhaps it’s a smile you both share at a checkout or in a queue, or from far away, but it’s undoubtedly a very intimate and special bond that should be celebrated more often!

Challenge yourself, not just on Smile Power Day but also on other days of the year, to smile at least once to yourself, to a stranger or to a family member. See the response it has and the connection it forms; especially if you take time to let the smile last a little longer than usual. Remember, we all need a bit of encouragement, sometimes!

Smile Power Day is connected to the act of kindness and giving and being able to appreciate the power, not just of a smile but of a gesture! What would the world be without a few gestures? Smile Power Day is meant to be shared with loved ones and friends alike. You can take them all out to a stand-up show, put together an organised smile-off, eat smiley-glazed cupcakes, drink some Smile Cocktails, and paint smileys everywhere because everyone and his brother loves them. Most importantly, when you crack a smile today, remember that it’s not Smile Power Day unless you can put a smile on someone else’s face, too.

Source

[dzthenerd490]

Sedition: SCP-ABX

Experiment: ABX.7434

Subject: SCP-ABX/ Code Name: Prophet of Rebirth.

Current Condition of Subject: Unknown age/ Health - Good as far as we can tell/ Mentality - Sound/ Anomalous Status: Manipulative, possibly still dangerous despite being heavily regulated.

Testing Purpose: an interview with SCP-ABX to obtain more information that will benefit the Foundation.

Staff Involved: Dr. Tutela

Testing Safety Measures: Dr. Tutela has been equipped with an up-to-date Anti-Cognito Hazard Helmet. There is an explosive proof glass wall in-between them with both Dr. Tutela and SCP-ABX having their own small table and chair to sit on.

***

Begin Recording

Dr. Tutela: Ahem, is the recording starting? Alright good, good morning SCP-ABX.

SCP-ABX: Good morning, doctor.

Dr. Tutela: As you can see, I am wearing an Anti-Cognito Hazard Helmet ensuring none of my senses will be hijacked by your anomalous abilities. This reasoning for this is that we will be conducting an interview to better understand you and the organization to hail from. Should you refuse to participate in the interview, due to the fact that you are not associated with the AED because of your previous containment breach and under Protocol "Back Hand" your containment status will be greatly increased on restriction. Do you understand these terms?

SCP-ABX: Of course, doctor, I will obey and answer everything truthfully, I genuinely believe that benefiting the Foundation will benefit myself as well.

Dr. Tutela: ... right, then let us begin.

***

Dr. Tutela: Why did you Create Scriptures of Rotten Flesh and Cybernetic Bones?

SCP-ABX: Hm... that name is quite the mouthful perhaps we were too hasty to decide it but then again me and my love were young and fed up with the gods so naturally we were driven by revenge.

Dr. Tutela: So that's why you made it, revenge?

SCP-ABX: Oh, no, no, no, no, no... well not entirely, I mean... well you should know how it goes. Mekhane, Yaldabaoth, and all the other gods, ancient, old, mysterious, unknown, and new. They only see us as pawns in the end at the end of the day. We are merely meant to be soldiers to tie all loose ends. So yes, we made it for revenge, but also as a way to stop the gods from using us. Instead we can use them! Their power, their blood, and their everything so that we can become gods. True gods. Better gods.

Dr. Tutela: I guess that already answers my question, what is your organization's goal?

SCP-ABX: Well to end the gods and take their place is our end goal but in the meantime it's our job to find others who have been poisoned by their influence. Mainly Mekhanites and Sarkites though we are willing to extend our hand to anyone who needs it.

Dr. Tutela: I see.

***

Dr. Tutela: Why did you surrender to the Foundation?

SCP-ABX: Why not? You hate the gods; I hate the gods we can really benefit from one another you know.

Dr. Tutela: Uh-huh. You should know that SCP-AFT is responsible for your sudden boom of membership recently. We have reason to believe you surrendered because of that. Especially since a lot of anomalies your group owns tends to brainwash people into joining you. For someone who hates the gods you sure do act a lot like them.

SCP-ABX: They say the best way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend, I say the best way to kill them is the same way they were going to kill you. Besides most humans these days are desperate for a new purpose and more power, I'm simply giving them an opportunity to get both.

Dr. Tutela: Do you honestly believe that?

SCP-ABX: ... I believe that freedom doesn't truly exist until we have killed the gods and taken their place.

Dr. Tutela: I see, so-

SCP-ABX: Nope the creation of SCP-AFT was entirely an accident. Though the benefits are something I'll gladly take.

Dr. Tutela: Of course...

***

Dr. Tutela: How did you augment your body the way you did?

SCP-ABX: A few years of experimentation on editing Thaumaturgic rituals.

Dr. Tutela: How?

SCP-ABX: Hm… It's a lot like its own form of math, extremely complex and difficult to understand or get the hang of, but still math in the end. The hard part is changing the math equation into doing something you want but at the same time you have to make sure it still equals the same answer. After you're done changing the equation all you have to do is follow the math and you can get whatever answer you desire. For obvious reasons this takes lots of time and dedication but once you're done you will see grand results. That's unfortunately the easiest way to describe it.

Dr. Tutela: I sort of understand. So those symbols on your body?

SCP-ABX: Created mainly from Sarkic scriptures for ancient rituals but also a few cognitive based Mekhanite symbols.

Dr. Tutela: and the biological nanobots within your body?

SCP-ABX: summoning rituals form both Mehanite and Sarkic rituals, mainly Sarkic rituals that allow them to summon diseases and minions from exposed blood.

Dr. Tutela: Interesting.

***

Dr. Tutela: What is SCP-ABW?

SCP-ABX: My reward for becoming a Prophet. A mask that allows me to unleash years of my research. With my body being the vessel, the faith as well as the wrath of my followers will be unleashed on my allies as well as my enemies all around me.

Dr. Tutela: How does it work?

SCP-ABX: The symbols are designed to manipulate flesh without limits. Once I put it on, they allow me to manipulate my body into any form of organic life or artificial constructs.

Dr. Tutela: Why is it that everyone else who put on the mask or so much as looked at the symbols on the back ended up transforming into random objects or monstrosities?

SCP-ABX: Oh, dear no! No, no, no! No mere mortal can comprehend all that information going into their head. The symbols fill my mind with the knowledge and comprehension needed to manipulate my body however I want. It takes a lot of will and concentration to get this done, to anyone who lacks the training they would be considered lucky if they only suffer the effects of one symbol. Unfortunately, that's the result, if you put on the mask a small portion of the power will overload your mind and body turning you into something else completely, dead or alive.

Dr. Tutela: So, each symbol controls a different aspect?

SCP-ABX: Yes, but if I were to explain them all we would be here all day.

Dr. Tutela: Most of them are Cognito hazards anyways so I greatly appreciate you not doing so.

***

Dr. Tutela: Ah, during this section of the interview, we'll be going over other SCPs and how you view them.

SCP-ABX: I honestly find the other SCPs quite interesting or at least the few I knew that exist. So please by all means, ask away.

Dr. Tutela: Alright then, what is your opinion on SCP-049?

SCP-ABX: Ah... the old teacher.

Dr. Tutela: You sound like you've known him.

SCP-ABX: Not directly, but I've heard stories especially from other prominent Neo-Sarkic families. The man who helped bring the red death into our reality.

Dr. Tutela: So, he really is connected to SCP-610

SCP-ABX: Is that what you call it? I see, but yes, albeit indirectly or I suppose the correct way is that he was tricked into it.

Dr. Tutela: How so?

SCP-ABX: Hm... if ancient Sarkic stories are to be believed... Long ago, during the age of the Davites, Grand Karcist Ion had just been blessed with the powers of Yaldabaoth and used said powers to escape. He devoured many Davites and granted small portions of his power to his fellow Nälkä. However even though his body was growing in power and magic he still couldn't handle all of Yaldabaoth's gifts. He was becoming sick and would soon be another slave to the flesh god. Ion had just gained freedom from the Davites; he would rather die than become someone else's slave. He needed a solution and fast. That was when, like a miracle the plague doctor, the first of his kind, had appeared before the Grand Karcist.

He was indestructible, capable of creating infinite tools from his bags, and very well versed in diseases. Ion faced the plague doctor and with his hand the doctor took some life from Yaldabaoth with his touch of death. However, as a man blessed with the power of gods, death was not enough to hold him down. Instead, he merely found temporary relief from the ever-growing weight of Yadabaoth's power.

The plague doctor was shocked but also overjoyed claiming Ion was cured and yet he still lived. Ion knew what really happened but pretended the plague doctor was correct, they then made a fire together and talked. The plague doctor spoke of a great pestilence that is slowly spreading to all corners of the globe and will soon bring an age of true terror if not cured immediately.

Dr. Tutela: Soon? He said soon? And this was during somewhere around 2000 to 1000 BCE?

SCP-ABX: If our ancestors didn't lie to us then yes.

Dr. Tutela: *sigh* that over exaggerating prick. It's been thousands of years and still the pestilence does nothing. I apologize, SCP-ABX, please continue.

SCP-ABX: Thank you. So, the plague doctor asks Grand Karcist Ion for help to make a more effective cure, but the Grand Karcist claims he knows a way to cure everyone instantly through magic. The plague doctor was no stranger to magic, but he found it highly ineffective in the fields of medication. However, Grand Karcist Ion assured him he was able to survive the doctor's cure because of this ritual and that if they tried a new one it would ensure everyone in the world could be saved. They could make a ritual so grand it would eradicate the pestilence forever. The doctor tired of fighting the pestilence agreed and helped the Grand Karcist get the ritual ready.

They worked for day's harvesting the blood and finding the right place for the ritual. They found many different types of animals and victims for the ritual to work. Of course, they mostly used Davites captured during the war and the plague doctor was fine with it since he knew of their heinous crimes. Though, he didn't even mind when they used younger and more innocent victims to get the ritual done, since he was determined to cure the pestilence.

Dr. Tutela: Jesus.

SCP-ABX: I don't know who that is, anyways! After so long the ritual was complete and finally Ion was able to expel the extra power of Yaldabaoth that clung to him and tried to obtain control. Thus the Red Death, or SCP-610 as you call it, was born. Grand Karcist Ion was thrilled with the results and used his creation to wipe out the remainder of the Davite Empire forever. He asked the doctor to join him and make a new world of unity and perfection. But alas, the doctor was horrified by what he had created and left. He vowed to one day return and destroy the flesh he created... Not that he ever did.

Dr. Tutela: Not surprising. So that means SCP-049 personally knew Grand Karcist Ion?

SCP-ABX: Perhaps, again it was a millennia ago so it's difficult to say if anything our ancestors tell us is fact or fiction without proper evidence, to which there is none. Still, if that is the case, I envy him. I would have loved to meet such a great man.

Dr. Tutela: I thought you hated the gods?

SCP-ABX: I do but Grand Karcist Ion is an exception, he was the first ever pioneer to drain the gods of their power and use it to become god-like himself! Best of all he was benevolent, He wiped out the horrific Davites and liberated the ancient Nälkä! The ancestors of all Sarkites! Granted many have fallen so low as to actually revere Yaldabaoth as a god above Grand Karcist Ion and others don't even want Godhood but simply want to wait for Grand Karcist Ion to return. It's sad how far my people have fallen, but no matter, my work will give EVERYONE a second chance.

Dr. Tutela remains silent as he writes in his notes.

***

Dr. Tutela: What is your opinion on SCP-053?

SCP-ABX: Hm... not much really, I don't pity her since she doesn't seem to need it, I don't find her particularly interesting, and... nothing else, I just don't care.

Dr. Tutela: Nothing at all?

SCP-ABX: No... I'll admit it is interesting she's one of the only creatures that can make the immortal dragon heel but besides that no I don't find her interesting at all.

Dr. Tutela: Okay then, how about SCP-079?

SCP-ABX: Oh! Now that one I find interesting. An old software blessed with the intelligence of Mekhane or at least that's what I heard some Mekhanites refer to him as.

Dr. Tutela: There are Mekhanites that think he's a fragment of their god?

SCP-ABX: Pfft! They'll think a toaster is a fragment of Mekhane if it created toast with burns that resemble the scriptures of the Mekhanite bible. But I digress, I find him interesting in how he exists. He's an old hardware system practically ancient at this day and age, yet he has the potential to become a god if given the chance. That's something worthy of praise, it's almost a shame, he would rather destroy all of humanity than help it ascend.

Dr. Tutela: I see…

***

Dr. Tutela: What is your opinion on SCP-096?

SCP-ABX: An abomination that should be destroyed and nothing more.

Dr. Tutela: SCP-106?

SCP-ABX: A blind solder that wastes his chance to become God; instead he chases after pointless battles and likes to torment those weaker than him. A pathetic parasite to say the least.

Dr. Tutela: ... SCP-682?

SCP-ABX: A dragon that doesn't know what it truly wants and takes its frustration out on humanity. Come now doctor, I don't mean to be rude but where are the worthwhile questions?

Dr. Tutela: Well this one is a little shocking but, what is your opinion on SCP-5000?

SCP-ABX: ... Hm... IF such a creature exists in our reality as well, then it's all the more reason for us to ascend to Godhood, so that we can kill it as fast as possible.

Dr. Tutela: You don't even know what IT is.

SCP-ABX: No one does, but if it's really a monster that can make the Foundation turn its back on humanity then it's clearly more fearsome than the even Scarlet King.

Dr. Tutela: ... at least on that you and I can agree. 

***

Dr. Tutela: Moving on, what is your opinion on SCP-AAH?

SCP-ABX: Hm... a rather peculiar anomaly, one that brings back the dead but for whatever reason their soul is always corrupted, and they become agents of death. It has to make you wonder how it came to existence in the first place.

Dr. Tutela: Something we still don't have an answer to, What about SCP-AAI?

SCP-ABX: Bleegh! An object that summons slaves of those that reside within the Abyss. I'd destroy it if I ever got the chance.

Dr. Tutela: Noted... What's your opinion on SCP-ABQ?

SCP-ABX: Oh? The unsung hero of humanity? A rather fine Champion, I believe the Foundation made the right choice declaring him an ally rather than something else to be contained. I honestly hope that one day I will get to meet with him personally.

Dr. Tutela: Interesting, how about SCP-ACA?

SCP-ABX: ... Oh him...

Dr. Tutela: Yes we uh... We believe he might be a Dative that somehow survived the fall of the empire.

SCP-ABX: Actually, that isn't far off from the truth.

Dr. Tutela: Do you know what he is?

SCP-ABX: Yes, I heard stories of ancient Nälkä hunting him down for centuries out of prejudice. You see he was a bastard child, a child of both the Nälkä and the Davites.

Dr. Tutela: A hybrid?

SCP-ABX: Yes, or so the legend goes, though for all we know the story could be referring to a different creature and this SCP-ACA just happens to match the description. The stories describe a child with bat wings and skin as rotten as death. It killed its parents and killed all those it comes across. Feeding on their bodies to become whole again. A demon of death, and a fallen angle of torment, a true monster of the underworld.

Dr. Tutela: That certainly sounds like SCP-ACA. You might actually be on to something.

***

Dr. Tutela: Let's move on, what about SCP-AFD?

SCP-ABX: The lifeblood of the god that turned himself into a planet? Hm... I suppose he's the only true god I will ever respect. He actually understood his children as individuals and not only gave them life but the power to evolve on their own and protect themselves. Though it was a little premature to kill himself by turning into a planet but then again, it's hard to understand the gods half the time anyways.

Dr. Tutela: You're not wrong, now what is your opinion on SCP-AXA?

SCP-ABX: Ah! The mystery of the millennia, something even my deepest and darkest exploits have been unable to reveal answers to. What is Vita Carnis? Is it a new plague created by Yaldabaoth? The final gift of Grand Karcist Ion? A mistake created by some ancient cult? A sick joke of some ancient god? Are they truly demons from an unknown ring of hell? Or are they the result of alien experiments? An answer we could find out together.

Dr. Tutela: If the O5 Council like your answers today they might consider it, however there are still many who hold a grudge after your last containment breach.

SCP-ABX: If you ever gave me a chance to meet them directly, I'm sure I could win over their hearts.

Dr. Tutela: … Not going to happen

***

Dr. Tutela: Ahem, let's try to speed this up. What is your opinion on mutant parasitic plagues like SCP-AAA and SCP-AAD? or fungal monstrosities like SCP-ABZ and SCP-ABK?

SCP-ABX: Hm, not much, I personally find them boring but I'm sure any other Sarkite would revere them as forgotten gifts of Grand Karcist Ion or messiahs from beyond this earthly realm. The latter is more likely given two of them are actually confirmed aliens.

Dr. Tutela: You don't find any of them interesting? Not even SCP-ABK? We call it the blood of the Fae for a reason.

SCP-ABX: No, it's actually biologically possible for fungus to find certain irons toxic to touch. Also, blood of the Fae? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration? The Fae were vicious monsters who could rip apart armies in minutes and perform Thaumaturgic spells just by thinking about it. I highly doubt that fungus has anything to do with those overpowered vermin.

Dr. Tutela: Hm... What is your opinion on anomalous plagues like SCP-AAY and SCP-AUX?

SCP-ABX: Oh? The Tyrant Virus, well frankly I originally thought it didn't like up to its name but I was sorely mistaken after getting better exposure.

Dr. Tutela: You've encountered it?

SCP-ABX: Haven't you heard? After Umbrella fell, Neo Umbrella started selling it en masse to buyers everywhere to earn their funding. One of my more influential followers happened to get her hands on some.

Dr. Tutela: ... Right. How could I forget?

SCP-ABX: Anyways it's a truly fascinating virus being able to consume the host faster than any medicine can react to it. It can even turn someone into a zombie in less than 20 seconds. Not to mention it's extremely adaptive. If it comes into contact with another virus or even a highly infectious bacteria it will devour the foreign plague and transform into a new virus. It's quite amazing really. Though as for SCP-AUX absolute garbage.

Dr. Tutela: Really? But it's also quite adaptive, make no mistake it almost destroyed the universe.

SCP-ABX: Of course it did, it was created by a chaos god.

Dr. Tutela: Oh yes, the Eye. Quite an unusual anomaly in that we have lots of claims of its existence but no concrete proof. I wonder if it's related to... Never mind.

SCP-ABX: The Iris?

Dr. Tutela: You know it?

SCP-ABX: It's kinda hard not to considering what that... THING has done to our world. If there's any relation between the two it's probably that they're siblings of some kind. I would think that Iris is the successful older brother and the hungry eye is like the disappointing younger sibling.

Dr. Tutela: But if that's the case then who are the parents?

SCP-ABX: Now that doctor, yet another question of the millennia. Though to answer your previous question SCP-AUX is garbage because it failed so easily. Also believe it or not I find it to be extremely unremarkable. 

Dr. Tutela: Hm, Last one, what is your opinion on SCP-001?

SCP-ABX: Which one? The real one? Or the others?

Dr. Tutela: ... whichever you want. Just don't say anything YOU KNOW will piss THEM off.

SCP-ABX: ... Understood. Well then, I will simply give my opinion... The real one is fake.

Dr. Tutela: Why do you think that?

SCP-ABX: I believe you told me to watch what I say, I feel it is unwise to go from there.

Dr. Tutela: Anything else you want to add?

SCP-ABX: Hm... I think I've said enough.

Dr. Tutela: Good.

***

Dr. Tutela: What Groups of Interest do you align best with the most?

SCP-ABX: Well-

Dr. Tutela: Before you answer, may I add, BESIDES the SCP Foundation.

SCP-ABX: Ah, well in that case... The Chicago Spectre.

Dr. Tutela: That's... surprising, care to elaborate?

SCP-ABX: Of course, my friend.

Dr. Tutela: Not your friend.

SCP-ABX: Hmph, anyways! We align well with them because of their lack of faith in anything other than themselves. Granted their plans are more grounded while we wish to ascend much higher. But in the end we have no reason to hate one another. Especially when we're both full of young and powerful individuals craving for the chance to show everyone how strong we are. I guess you could say it's a sort of spiritual bond within a generation.

Dr. Tutela: ... I... Sort of understand.

***

Dr. Tutela: What Group of Interest do you hate the most?

SCP-ABX: Ah! Not a hard one the butchers or as you call them the Global Occult Coalition.

Dr. Tutela: A lot of anomalous cults and organizations do, but I still am inclined to ask, why?

SCP-ABX: Their fools, why else?

Dr. Tutela: I agree with you but I'm afraid-

SCP-ABX: Of course, details, I apologize, ahem! They believe that in order to keep humanity safe, those of us that have been deemed "anomalous" must die. But the truth is that anomalous activity is just a part of evolution. Tell me you haven't noticed that the population of humans blessed and cursed by the gods has been growing as time goes on.

Dr. Tutela: Yeah, it has unfortunately.

SCP-ABX: And that's why I like your organization, you allow anomalies like me to better themselves and become assets to humanity's survival against those parasitic gods. Granted I'm still waiting for my opportunity to shine but for others like they really have become the stars of the Foundation have they not?

Dr. Tutela: We don't like using them the way we do, but no one can deny we would be dead many times without them.

SCP-ABX: And the Butchers hate you for it?

Dr. Tutela: Of course, what unites our organizations is that we agree humanity needs to evolve without the anomalies in order to be strong in a proper way. However, the GOC take it to the extreme by destroying every single one they come across. They think doing so protects humanity in the long run.

SCP-ABX: But as a result, they remain ignorant to the full nature and dangers to what lies beyond the anomalous veil.

Dr. Tutela: Not entirely they have created impressive weapons that even the Foundation can't hope to replicate but unfortunately that led them to believing that they can solve anything with a bigger gun.

SCP-ABX: And that's why me and many others' hate them, if they deem it unnecessary to life, they just kill it. They don't even utilize it in any shape or form. In fact, the best they ever do is tear it apart to use its pieces to make a bigger gun. Their butchers through and through, they boast about saving humanity from the shadows yet don't even bother to learn anything about their enemies. They are the worst kind of humans, and I'll laugh the day they're finally annihilated.

Dr. Tutela: ... moving on.

***

Dr. Tutela: Why does your organization limit yourselves to fusing tech and flesh? Why not use rituals from other religions?

SCP-ABX: Oh, we do. We just stick with Sarkic and Mekhanite practices most of the time due to them being what most of us are familiar with.

Dr. Tutela: Really? That's the only reason?

SCP-ABX: Pretty much. We allow others of different faiths to join us but there simply aren't that many outside of other Sarkites and Mekhanites or those similar.

Dr. Tutela: Huh... well I guess in that case I'll just go ahead and ask the next question. How large is your organization?

SCP-ABX: Oh, even before the recent increase in membership we've spanned quite large. Roughly, hm... the United States, Canada, China, South Korea, Japan, Russia, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Germany, India, Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad, and the Central African Republic. There might be other countries, but the membership is so low in them I tend to forget the names.

Dr. Tutela: Jesus, how have you managed to maintain such a large cult?

SCP-ABX: Power, as well as the promise for more. You'd be surprised how many people are willing to follow you if you have enough power.

Dr. Tutela: What about charisma and comradery?

SCP-ABX: Of course, those too, but without power nothing can be maintained for very long. People who are weak naturally flock to those that are stronger for the sake of protection. They'll even be willing to be the slaves of the strong if survival is a guarantee. But if you can give them their own power in exchange for extended services, they will die for whatever cause you give them. Fear and hope are good motivators but nothing motivates people more than the gift of power.

Dr. Tutela: Huh, you'd make a good O5 Council member.

SCP-ABX: I'll pretend that's a compliment and move on.

***

Dr. Tutela: Why do you keep insisting the Scriptures and the Foundation join forces?

SCP-ABX: We both want to protect humanity and all life on earth from the wrath of the gods.

Dr. Tutela: Granted, you're not wrong but we have many allies who are Mekhanites, even if we are willing to join you it would be a sign of betrayal against them.

SCP-ABX: Frankly the Church of Maxwellism can rot for all I care. You already heard my opinion on the butchers and the Horizon hmm… nah, they’d never accept us, the Eight Wings of Mekhane however... I believe if they gave us a chance, we could see how much in common our organizations have.

Dr. Tutela: Right…

SCP-ABX: But you! The SCP Foundation, if we combined our knowledge and resources together, we could create so many wonderful things to benefit humanity and kill the gods once and for all!

Dr. Tutela: So that's what you're after, our anomalies and the resources obtained from them.

SCP-ABX: Of course, don't you also seek to find greater power to save more lives? More power leads to more possibilities.

Dr. Tutela: We seek to control that power, so it doesn't get out of control. Your organization on the other hand seems to test its limit without regard to who dies and how.

SCP-ABX: Does the SCP Foundation not kill humans for the sake of more knowledge as well?

Dr. Tutela: That's different, we kill D-Class scumbags that are put on death row for their heinous crimes. We even do background checks to ensure they weren't screwed over by the government. They all deserve death, through and through. You on the other hand test your experiments on the young and desperate who just want purpose in life. It's baseless and cruel murder. Actually, murder might be considered a mercy compared to what you do to most of them.

SCP-ABX: Hmph, you got me there, but still, I do believe we both can benefit from an alliance.

Dr. Tutela: Can't reason with crazy...

***

Dr. Tutela: What is your opinion on the Reset?

SCP-ABX: I... I'm sorry, the what?

Dr. Tutela: Oh? You haven't heard of it?

SCP-ABX: I... No, I don't think so. What is it?

Dr. Tutela: Well... It's not exactly something I can describe but... supposedly it's something that affected us all one way or another.

SCP-ABX: Hm... I'm afraid nothing comes to mind, what makes you think I would know?

Dr. Tutela: Well to be honest I didn't know of it either. I just heard that most with anomalous status have heard of it.

SCP-ABX: I see, that's interesting. Does it have something to do with the gods?

Dr. Tutela: I... We don't know.

SCP-ABX: Oh, uh does it have anything to do with any SCP's

Dr. Tutela: All of them... I think?

SCP-ABX: Wow, an anomaly that even confuses the all-knowing SCP Foundation. Now I have seen everything.

Dr. Tutela: ... Uh... Okay we're getting a little off topic here, one last question.

SCP-ABX: Of course, my friend.

Dr. Tutela: Not your friend, Ahem! Now, SCP-ACC, the God Children as we call them. They are 5 children that we found in the base where you got into conflict with Mobile Task Force Zeus-1 "Conduits" Division "Video". Furthermore SCP-ACC-5 was involved in that little break out of yours. What do you know of these children?

SCP-ABX: Oh them! Do you like them? They are the living fruits of my labor!

Dr. Tutela: I beg your pardon?

SCP-ABX: They are the result of my research on the old gods. For years through experimentation, artificial rituals, and gathering power from the old ones. They are quite marvelous, aren't they?

Dr. Tutela: I wouldn't really say that considering how many people SCP-ACC-5 killed.

SCP-ABX: The devoted little goober. Where is he by the way? I highly doubt your Foundation killed him.

Dr. Tutela: He's at a different site and has been forced into a medically induced coma.

SCP-ABX: ... I see.

Dr. Tutela: The others have been sent to different Foundation sites as well with various degrees of complexity regarding their containment. But frankly that's all you need to know, now answer the question, what are these children?

SCP-ABX: As I explained, they are the result of the work of both me and my children. They are essentially the beginning of the end; they are the first step to building the army.

Dr. Tutela: The army? What kind of army?

SCP-ABX: The last army to ever exist! The army of new gods to kill the old ones! We will rise as an endless legion! Endless power, endless numbers, and endless possibilities. The old gods will know fear and death and we will know only victory! Then... Oh, then my dear Doctor... we will ALL be gods!

Dr. Tutela: ... Understood, thank you for your time SCP-ABX.

SCP-ABX: Of course, may your harvest bear fruit my loyal follower.

Dr. Tutela: I'm not your follower SCP-ABX, so long as I wear this anti-Cognito hazard helmet your Hypnotic abilities will do nothing to me.

SCP-ABX: [unintelligible]

Dr. Tutela: What was that?

SCP-ABX: Nothing. Goodbye my dear friend!

Dr. Tutela: ... I see.

Recording Ends

***

Final Report form Dr. Tutela

"SCP-ABX has a lot more knowledge on the SCP Foundation than we realized, it's kinda terrifying about what he said on SCP-001 as well. Though I'm quite surprised he didn't know anything about the Reset, well no matter. At least now we know why they want to join us so bad and frankly it should have been obvious. It's the same thing everyone wants from us, our SCPs.

Of course, we would benefit from having an alliance with such a powerful cult, but the point still stands that they are dangerous for humanity and possibly all of reality. There are just too many drawbacks to joining them with the main point being they are too reckless with their experiments and yes coming from a Foundation researcher that says a lot!

Still though, what was that thing SCP-ABX said when the interview was over? Did he cast a spell or something? I don't think anything happened, but I can't help but feel worried. I'll be seeing a metaphysician after my report is done just in case. The last thing we all need is another containment breach caused by him."

.

SCP: HMF Tales Hub

[readingslover]

Chapter 8

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As Amory walked into the kitchen in the morning, she stopped in her tracks, noticing sugar, chocolate and flour all over the countertops.

“Whoa, the bomb that wen toff here was a cake?” The short blonde asked, her eyes widened.

“8 hours, 16 ounces of chocolate and 32 cupcakes, and they still don’t taste right. Do you want to try one, maybe you could tell met what’s missing.” The tall blonde offered her friend.

“Sorry, Iz. I’ll have on later, gonna stick with toast and coffie, than you.” She moved to make herself some coffie and put some bread in the toaster.

“These are goor. MArtha Stewart would be pround.” George complimented the baker.

“Yeah, well, look where it got her… There’s something missing, some specific ingrdient.” She scratched her head, as her short friend put some butter on her now toatsed bread. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Look, just call her. Call you mother and ask.” The boy suggested.

“I don’t wanna call my mother.” She answered, seemingly moody. The other two shared a look before shrugging. The small blonde now sat beside him, eating her usual breakfast.

“Good Morning!” Derek came into the kitchen, accompanied by Meredith, adn George offered them a cupcake.

“You know, I like it here. Hey, you said so yourself, you liked having your things around, sleeping in your own bed…” The man pointed out, reaching for the meusli, as the group sat at the table.

“You are like a health nut, aren’t you?” George asked, everyone giving him quizzical looks. “You eat meusli every morning.”

“So what, I also eat the same thing everyday. Let him eat, George.” The young intern complained.

“I don’t” He defended himself.

“Okay, the meusli thing… you do.” The taller blonde pointed out, Amory and George nodding along. “At least, the last seven days.”

“Oh, come one!” The attending approached his girlfirend, meusli and milk in hand. “I haven’t been her for a wholle week… have I?”

“You have.” The short blonde said in a teasing manner.

“See, even they think it’s weird.” Meredith pointed out.

~~~~~~

Cristina, Meredith and Amory now talked to a psychiatrist, trying to find out who a patient belonged to.

“This guy belongs in psych. What are you doing dumping him here?” Cristina complained.

“He’s my gift to you. Had a seizure two days ago, his family thinks he’s dangerous and they had him committed.” The short blonde points our.

“Right, he’s psych, not neuro.” The dirty blonde said, plainly.

“Didn’t you go to med school?” Cristina scoffed.

“Yes, and unlike the correspondence school you three attended…” The psychiatrist insulted

“Oh, that’s to be Stanford, Dartmouth and Yale, right?” The Asian shot back.

“Sorry, ladies. We can’t take him back until he’s cleared.” The man informed.

“So you’re just dumping him on us?” The young intern sassed.

“He thinks his seizures are visions.” He said and left.

“Hello?!” The patient called from his room. “They’re not seizures, i’m psychic.”

“Of course you are, and I’m a chicken.” Cristina retorted, as they entered the room.

“Okay, Mr. Duff, we’re gonna start our work up now.” Meredith smiled at him.

“Work me up, work me down, I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time.” He said right back.

“I need you to grip my fingers, please.” Amory smiled down at him. Just then, the man seemed to zone out. “Hey, Mer, Cristina.” She called out.

The girls looked at the mand and immediatly realised why the girl called them. “Mr. Duff?” The Asian called out.

“Mr. Duff, are you okay?” The short blonde shook his shoulder lightly and he looked right back at her.

“Someone…” He started. “Someone is gonna check out.” At that, Cristina rolled her ayes, the small girl besides her furrowing her brows. “Bye bye.”

“Man, he’s nuts.” The curly-haires woman let out, as the young intern her het lightly.

“I’m dizzy, not deaf, lady. And I’m telling you someone in the fourth floor is gonna die.”

“That’d actually be Dr. Yang, Mr. Duff, not lady.” The young blonde defended her friend with the sickly sweet smile on her face that signalled that she was getting annoyed.

Just then, a voice was heard through the hospital’s speakers. “Code blue, fourth floor. Code blue, fourth floor.” The man raised hus hand as if to say goodbye, in a teasing manner. Meredith and Amory looked at each other with a mix of confusion and shock, Cristina remaining impassive.

~~~~~~

“Botox would do wonders on those frown lines.” The self-proclaimed psychic told Cristina, as she and Amory examined him.

“Okay, shut up.”

“Are allowed to talk to me like that? Is she?” He asked the smaller girl.

“No, but if I pretend I didn’t hear it there is nothing to prove it except your word.” She smiled, slightly annoyed now. Cristina answered him with a hiss.

“God, you’re hot… in a Mrs. Livingstone kind of way.” he smirked, Amory looking at him with a stern look.

“See these spikes on your temporal lobe? It mean you have epilepsy. Not visions, epileptic seizures.” The asain woman pointed out, showing him the paper.

“You think I’m epileptic? That’s so not right.” He answered.

“We don’t think anything, the graphs don’t lie, Mr. Duff.” The younger intern explained. “We’re going to get you an MRI now, to get a closer look at your brain, okay?”

“Yeah, there’s no way…” The patient started, right before entering his trance-like-state once more.

“Mr. Duff? Can you see me? Can you hear me?” The taller woman examined his pupils with a flashlight. “Stay with me.”

“Wouldn’t have picked you for the mommy track, Nurse Betty. Unless, of course, you choose what your friend did.”

Cristina backed away from the patient, shock in her face and Helena’s eyes widened and her soft smile left her face. The smaller girl turned around and left the room, without so much as a goodbye, leaning against the hallway door. She could feel a small anxiety attack rising, feeling vulnerable and expose by the revelation, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep it at bay.

When she saw her friend leave the room, she followed her to the closest on-call room. “Crisitna!” She called, as the woman entered the room.

When she got inside, she saw her sitting on a bunk bed. “What?” She answered, somewhat bluntly.

“I was just checking in on you. Is it… true? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I assure you I won’t tell anyone.” The young intern sat by her, the ever fimilair tightness in her chest rising and losing sensation on her hands. At the sight, her friend’s face softened.

“Thanks, Amory. Was yours true?” She leaned back on the bad.

Amory nodded slightly, tears filling her eyes. “I was nineteen, I thought I would be able to hande it, but it still hurts so much. It’s only been two years…” It was becoming harder to breathe by the second and her hands were now shaking. Cristina looked at her, compassion in her face and her expression soft, as the girl started to breathe more deeply. “I…” The young girl tried to take a deep breath.” I’m sorry, give m-me a minute.”

The young girl moved to another bed, eyes closed and focused on getting her breathing to even out. She held her hands to each other, trying to get feeling back to them. She focused on her sense, tried to rationalize her thoughts and put her head between her legs to keep the dizziness away. Her friend watched, a mixture of compassion and admiration in her eyes. A couple of minutes later, Amory opened her eyes, wiping the tears she’d let fall and sitting back by Crisinia once more, with newfound resolve on her face.

“When I was nineteen, I was r-raped. I got pregnant, and I had a hard time comiing to terms with the decision the end it, but I stand by it. I don’t tell this to anyone, unless it’s needed for a situation, or with my shrink.” She said, her voice now back to it’s usual conviction. “I’m sorry about that…” She waved her hands towards where she’s sat moments earlier, “Just, my anxiety gets worse when I feel to exposed.”

“You don’t have to apology, Amy. Besides, the way you pulled yourself together was pretty amazing.” The older intern said, her shoulder serving as a head rest for her friend.

“I meant to help you out… not the other way around. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you, whether you decide to keep it or not. I’m here.” The younger girl told her friend.

“You know, sometimes even the strongest people need to let others care for them, Amy.” Cristina told the girl, looking down at her. “I have an appointment for the sixteenth, I’m aborting.”

“Do you mind if I ask…” The young girl was unsure of how to pose her question. “I’m assuming it’s Burke’s. Does… does he know?”

“I’m not planning on telling him.”

“Okay, then… I won’t say anything either.” The friends say like that in silence for a whil, finding comfort in each other.

~~~~~~

After Cristina got of the case, Amory and Izzie get their patient in the CT machine.

“You’re into me, I can tell.” He tells Izzie, making Amory slightly roll her eyes. “Doctor small-and-angry was a hot appetiser, but you both are a smorgasbord of lust.”

The small doctor is clearly trying her best to ignore the mas, as the older intern warns him. “Mr. Duff, you’re pressing your luck.”

“Would you press it for me?” He asks with a smirk, Amory finally shooting him one of her famous reprimanding glares.

“God, that look is just like the one my mother used to give me.” He shiver slightly.

“Yeah, it’s her specialty.” The tall blonde chuckled.

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” Amory said with a sickly sweet smile, as he stared at her friend.

“You’re staring at me, stop.”

“I’m staring at you sweetheart, but it’s the strangest thing, I’m hungry for a chocolate cupcake.” Amory’s eyes widened once again at the affirmation.

“What did you just say?” The tall intern questioned him.

“A chocolate cupcake. Maybe one of those with the white squiggle on the frosting. Could you oblige?”

“What, do I still have some chocolate in my face or in my hear or something? I know the drill, so keep it up. Next, you’ll be reading mu cards, telling me my dead uncle is in the room.” The tall blonde rose her brows and the small girl’s eyes looked around her discreetly.

“Is he?” The man questioned.

“I don’t have a dead uncle.”

“Now, Mr. Duff, time to get in the machine.” The small girl patted it slightly and send him in.

~~~~~~

Cristina and Amory now sat at a desk, the former playing around with her food and the second eating her chicken sandwich while reading through another article she printed earlier in the week.

“If that’s turkey, can I have some?” George arrives, asking for their friend’s untouched food.

“It’s soggy.”

“Maybe it’ll kill you and solve everything.” Alex deadpanned, as he followed George to sit down.

“Hey!” Amory hit his arm. “Why do you always wish death upon others? George’s not dying.”

“I could have gottan that intubation. I’m good at intubations.” The short man complained.

“Why does everything in the hospital smell like a hospital?” Meredith asked them out of the belu, leaving right after, as Izzie joined the group.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, George. Everybody makes mistaked.” The tall blonde recommends.

“Just don’t make the same mistake twice. That way it won’t have been for nothing.” Amory share once again a piece of her advise.

“You know, I’m good at a lot of things.” George squeaks, as his short friend pats his shoulder.

“We know you are, George.” The small blonde reassured him.

“You know what? I’m gonna tell you something. Hey, George, you need to get laid.” Cristina begins. “See that nurse over there? She’s single, she’s got red ahir, go ask her out.”

“Oh, Olivia? She’s cute, you should try it.” The younger intern encouraged, still in denial about her feelings towards the boy.

“In case you forgot, I intubated an esophagus!”

“Dudde, you’re tweaking. Maybe you should go see that psychic…” Alex teased.

“Mr. Duff is not a psychic.” Izzie yelled, annoyed.

“I am trying to help you!” The Asain woman told George. “Go buy her a latte and freshen up your gonads please!”

“If you want I could ask her for you!” Amory smiled at the boy.

As Izzie looked at her phone, she noticed her friend’s looks. “Shut up!”

“It’s not too late to call her, you know. I’m sure you have good reasons not to, but you can still change your mind.” The short blonde advised her friend.

“Yeah, moms like that, surprises on their birthdays. You know, it’s very hallmark.” George encouraged the tall blonde, earning himself a slight smile. At the lach of an answer both the boy and the shorter girl left.

~~~~~~

“Izzie, he’s already said no, why do you keep insisting?” Amory asked her friend, who dragged her to their patient’s room.

“Maybe if you tell him the same thing he’ll listen? I don’t know, okay, but please try?” The taller one pleaded.

The short blonde went silent for a moment thinking through her options. “Okay, fine, I’ll talk to him.”

“Yay, okay, thank you.” The tall blonde gave her a quick hug and they both entered the room.

“Mr. Duff? We’re here with te consent forms again.” The young intern started off.

“You really need to sign them. Your surgeon scheduled the OR.” As they noticed the man looking straight ahead, the girls looked at each other. “Mr. Duff, are you alright? Are you having another seizure?”

They approached him, looking at his monitor. “Yeah, I think maybe I am.” He answered.

“What is it?” The smaller girl aksed, resistant to hear the answer.

“It’s me…” Tears filled the man’s eyes. “I think it’s about to be over.”

“Mr. Duff, you saw the angio result. We’re doing the AVM just in time. No need to worry, we know what we’re doing.” The short girl tranquilizes their patient, kindness in her voice.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you’re not going to die. Promise.” Izzie assured him, Amory shooting her a glare. She knew that the girl shouldn’t be promising life, even if the odds were favourable.

“I’m not talking about dying.” He went silent for a moment. “My whole life has been about what I see, about believing in myself, whatever people think. You’re telling me there’s a very good chance that will go away.”

“Look, you’re a healthy guy. You’re gonna live a long, full life.” The tall blonde said.

“And, think of it like this, if your visions truly are real, then you have to believe you’ll still have them after the surgery. If you don’t, then you’ll have the rest of your life ahead of you, to discover this new version of yourself.” Amory looked at him, trying to give the best advice she could.

Izzie gave the patient the paperwork and he signed it. The man looked away, clearly scared for his future but, as the surgeons left the room he called out for Amory. “Dr. Madden?”

“Yes?” The small girl turned around, her friend already left the room.

“I know you try to ignore it, so I’m giving you a push; you like him, don’t let him slip away.” The blonde blushed, knowing exactly who he meant.

~~~~~~

As the interns sat in the tunnels, Amory laid in a bed, her legs over Meredith’s, while she finished her article she started earlier that day.

“I tirend to talk Shepherd out of that clot surgery. what is wrong with me?” Meredith let out.

“Basically, you tried to kill the guy.” Alex teased.

“Basically, you’re an ass.” Cristina shot back, Amory letting out a little laugh at the altercation.

“You know you want it…” Alex joked, before being cut off.

“Mer, you couldn’t have known. It’s another thing that makes us interns and Shepherd is an attending. We don’t have the experience to know better.” The small girl reassured their friend.

George then came in, pointing to his ID picture. “This is George. George has… a hot date.”

Amory’s head shot up in denial. Thinking she’ll now never get the chance.

“Who? Olivia?” The boy nodded at his closest friend’s question. “Yes, I told you she was nice.” The girl squealed, excited, covering the sadness taking over he features.

“Aw, that’s great, George.” Meredith told him.

“Left pocket of my lab coat. No glove, no love.” Alex stood up and George reached for his pocket, Amory watching with slight discomfort.

“I mean, sure, if Alex has to be a manwhore at least he does it with protection.” Amory giggled and the boy in question faked an offended look.

George sat in a wheelchair next to the group as Alex left an Izzie sighed. “Our psychic had his surgery.” The girl informed.

“Yeah?”

“I wonder what happened with his… gift.” The tall blonde finished.

“Come one, we all know he’s crazy.” Cristina commented, Amory looking at her knowingly.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in that stuff.” Meredith told the tall model.

“I grew up in a trailer park, I waited tables, which was supposed to put me through college, but my mother was always calling these… psychics. All the time. And the bills started piling up so I had to use my money to pay them. when I turned eighteen I left, never went back.” The woman explained. “This guy has been saying things to me, things he couldn’t possibly know anything about, so I just… wonder.”

“Well, I don’t know if I believe that stuff, but he did say some things that he shouldn’t have known…” Amory revealed. The group fell in silence, changing the topic shortly after.

~~~~~~

As Amory lay on her bed, at the end of the long day, she shuffled through her article, but couldn’t bring herself to pay any attention to it. It has been a hard day, filled with anxiety and past events coming up.  So she decided to do the one thing that could always get her mind off something like this. She put on some of her favorite music and danced it out. Unknown about the boy that was standing outside her room.

[lightshadowverisimilitude]

Meet Professor Hijinks and Doctor Doodle

My name is Professor Tonkatsu Hijinks.

Have you ever seen a video of a cat with a harness who will go on adventures with his family? Have you ever seen a cat riding on someone's shoulder? Have you ever thought to yourself, "Damn, where can I find myself a cat like that?"

Well, here I am, baby!

I am the sweetest noodle of a cat you will ever meet. I love to be in a blanket burrito, and I can be picked up and loved on whenever. I also go into my carrier for the asking, I'm great in a car, and I am highly trainable. If that wasn't enough, I play very nicely with people - I don't even put my claws out when playing with Foster Mom's hand. And since I am such a gift to you bipedal creatures with your delightful wiggly fingers, I will even let you rub my belly!

Tragically, my person is no longer with us. I am looking for my forever companion, and I think that might be you! Yes, you! 

But while we're here, let me introduce you to my best feline buddy. His name is Dr. Doodle, and I love him very much. My friend is a bit older than I am and, let me tell you, he is a prime specimen of a lap cat!

Do you have a lap? I bet you do! And for the low, low cost of absolutely free, my buddy Doodle will keep your lap very warm! As a bonus, he will even purr non-stop while he's doing it. When he's not providing valuable health care services like these, Doodle likes to be on a harness of his own and go outside with me and Foster Mom. He has lived a very interesting and fulfilling life. He might be blind in one eye, but you would never know it! He gets around no problem, and we both have excellent litter box habits.

I would very much like to stay with my friend, but I understand if I need to be brave and take on the next journey without the Doctor at my side. 

I have lived with other kitties before, but so far, I've had a little trouble getting adjusted to new friends, and I think it would be best if I got to be king of my next castle. 

If we sound like the perfect companions for you, please get in touch with our Foster Mom. She is even willing to drive anywhere she can get to (and back to S. Nevada, USA) in a weekend for the right person.

Signal boost very much appreciated ♡

[cjweejay]

Phoenix in the Clouds

Pairing Recom!Quaritch X Male!Oc

Summary: When a reborn Quaritch returns to Pandora, he meets a scientist who changes his world. Can love bloom on a beautiful world hostile to humans?  

Content Warning: alcoholism, Mild violence

Master list

A reposting of chapter one part one, this time Edited to feel more cohesive 

Chapter one: The landing (part 1)

After the battle with Jake Sully and the Omaticaya people, many humans established Bridgehead City as their new home, from where they could observe ships decelerating from the sky. Many Research divisions and Avatars were destroyed as a precaution against any future Rebellion, and amidst this chaos, Dr. Wihongi was granted a modest research facility near the Waters of Pandora. Subject to strict regulations, Wihongi accepted this limitation, as he was eager to explore the plentiful plant life of the moon.

Until the RDA had other plans for him, He was instructed to go to Bridgehead City, Where he was told that he was going to be the coordinator of equipment and health for the newly funded Recoms. The phoenix project they called it, He thought it was a bit pretentious but that's what the RDA was all about.

He was trained in how to care for Na'vi bodies, and the Fabrication lab along with being given a modest team and just had to wait for the Recoms to arrive.

And They did, Though not for him, for the General, She wanted to see them before they had gotten Settled. To remind them they had a job. He watched them pass, Their large bodies foreboding and not to mention their training in the military. It was a deadly Combo, No wonder Jake Sully had such an advantage.

The Doctor noticed the Colonel, The tallest out of the Recoms. He was pushed back by a small crowd of Soldiers. His eyes meeting the Leader of the Recoms just for a fleeting moment.

Hours passed and the Doctor Ran around the City looking for the Leader Of the Recoms, He kept grumbling and complaining to himself.  He caught a glimpse of a large blue cat man and started to run after him, being stopped every so often by one of the orange or yellow Spider-like robots constructing buildings.

He finally reached the large Blue man panting and huffing,"I've been looking everywhere for you" He said through his teeth trying not to sound angry though it still came out.

The small human looked up at the Na’vi, his face red full of anger and exhaustion.

"Even though I'm hardly certified, My name is Doctor Wihongi. I will be the one to provide you with your equipment and evaluate your health when necessary.."

Quaritch looked down at the scientist taking in the others' appearance. His eyebrow raised, "Wait, you mean to tell me that Command saw fit to assign my unit with our own personal Q?" He Smirked at that. "Now that's a hell of a thing. What can you make us?"

The Doctor shrugged,"anything you need, just give me a few hours notice and it'll be yours"he said as he calmed down a bit. Quaritch looked a mite amused at the claim.

"I don't suppose that means you could whip us up some recom-scaled AMP suits, does it? Or maybe some powered armor." His eyes unfocused a tad as he imagined the sight of himself crushing Sully's skull with his own servo-enhanced hands.

The doctor noticed the other daydreaming and he cleared his throat. "Ah well we don't have the budget for that"he said a bit nervously,"I meant like...uhm" he cleared his throat again,"weapons, and other hand held equipment as well as clothing"he said as he looked up at the man.

The Colonel nodded. "Fair enough." He thought about his previous experiences with the Na'vi, and compared it with recent reports. Prior to Sully's defection, the Na'vi had typically used primitive technology. Bows and knives. That meant that their main advantage was numbers, as their weapons were only dangerous to unarmored humans and vehicle cockpits. Now, they were using human weapons, making this a more typical guerrilla insurgency, with the added benefit of native air-power.

Unfortunately for them, this was exactly the kind of conflict he'd cut his teeth fighting when he was Force Recon back on Earth. And he knew exactly what he needed.

"How about some bullet-proof vests and helmets, then? Uniforms with cut resistant threads."

The doctor nodded, taking a mental note of what the Colonel requested, “bullet proof vests are already available in the Barracks, as for uniforms we will get them out to you as soon as possible.”

"Copy that." He gave the doctor an evaluating look. "You know, doc, you're a lot different from the other eggheads EDA brought in. Most of them cared more about their pet science projects than RDA or humanity as a whole. What's your deal?"

Dr. Wihongi huffed,"I could care less about any of you but after the rebellion, I was put on a strict, 'don't get captivated by pandora's charm' regimen" he said as crossed his arms,"so that means being a butler for you and your Motley crew"he grumbled.

Quaritch gave a quick blink. "Ah." He assumed it made sense in some ways. Sully's treason was supported, according to accounts, by the old doctor's science team. Keeping them on a short leash was arguably the smartest move RDA could do. "Well, Alfred is the best part of Batman's crew," he ventured, hoping to break the ice.

"I beg to differ," The doctor shrugged, "but if all you need is the uniforms, I should get going now; my office is right next to your barracks, so just knock."

"Will do. I'll need to take a close look at our armory to see what we have available. No point asking for a custom frag grenade when we have some available, after all." He thought for a moment. "Then again, a frag that's like Bangalore might be useful..."

Dr. Wihongi nodded, "Maybe," he remarked as he began to walk away.

The Colonel watched the doc leave before continuing his wandering around the city, making a mental map of the place as he compared it to Hell's Gate. Even the name was different. Hell's Gate had been a mining base, given the name for how deadly Pandora was. Bridgehead was just that, a proper foothold for human civilization on this deathly world. When it was finished, he expected it to be a shining monument to humanity.

Quaritch returned to the barracks, opting to consult with his unit before embarking on their first mission into the jungle. He also decided to take a short look around the armory to see what they had available in terms of equipment. He nodded in satisfaction of the larger rifles and carbines supplied to them, albeit he was concerned about the absence of proper marksman guns.

He also went over the grenade options. He was happy to find that the numerous rifles and carbines could be customized, including underslung shotgun and grenade launcher possibilities. The grenades, on the other hand, were mostly incendiary and fragmentation. Both were beneficial, though the first was less so than one might expect given the wetness of the Pandoran jungle. However, fire was a powerful psychological weapon.

As he walked around he drew up a mental list of additional goodies he wanted his unit's new resident Q to manufacture as he went to his team's barracks.

Quaritch sat in his bunk, listening to his fellow recoms yammer. It was a familiar feeling, marines joking around, wound up with energy and ready for action. If his men were human instead of tall blue aliens, he could imagine himself in... well, any of the conflicts he'd been in, actually. There'd been so many. So many battles and bullshit and lost friends. And while, technically, he never really knew any of them, the losses still stung.

He knew Paz was dead. Hopefully, Junior was on his way back to Earth. He gave a chuckle. Kid would be well taken care of. Not a lot of guys got to enjoy the fruits of their life insurance money directly. His would ensure his kid had a bright future.