doctorsugar
Sugar Kowalczyk
Doctor Sugar Kowalczyk
Therapist
Closed RP with Maledictus.
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thymeandreason:
“Wait, Sugar Kowalczyk? Like- Like Marilyn Monroe’s character in that one movie?” Her brows knit together, along with a tilt of the head to really sell her interest, not just her confusion. “That can’t actually be your name right? Did you change it when you got to Ashbourne?” She leaned in with a smirk befitting the cheshire cat. Oh this was so much more interesting than talking about her problems. Not that she really had any she wanted to talk about.
She stretched herself back, crossed her arms across her chest and gave a quizzical stare to the doc. This was not so easy to do as her left arm was still having a little motor function issue. “Do they even check doctors when they come into town? Or is it just like, a big trust thing? I can’t imagine everyone walks around with all their doctorates on their person.” Josie began to wonder how long she could avoid the subject of being the subject today.
“Man I should have told people I was a child prodigy when I got here. Get me a research grant, a sweet lab up at the college. That’d be rad.”
To say she was shocked would be an understatement, but she didn’t let it show on her face outside of a pleasantly surprised smile. “You caught that?” She laughed, “It is my name. My mother had been a huge Marilyn fan, and when she married into the Kowalczyk name she made my father promise she could choose any name she wanted if they had a daughter. He agreed.” She leaned forward a bit, elbows resting on her crossed legs. “Do you prefer Josephine, or is there any other name you ask I call you during our sessions?”
She was a deflector, that was quickly becoming clear. Not her favorite to work with, but always a fun challenge nonetheless. “Sadly, I did have to prove my certifications by undergoing examination. As much as I’d been fooled to think I only had to take some of those tests once this decade.” She hummed, “Talk needs proof here, at least when it comes to being a doctor. What is it you would have liked to research in this sweet lab of yours?”
Originally posted by 1footfronttheeother
Clinical. || Sugar&Josie
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evelfrisk:
@doctorsugar
The release from the hospital had conditions tied to it. Only one of them, that she would remain with Samson, she liked. Therapy was always a disaster when it came to her. Evie was too flippant she either shared nothing or shared too much and got burnt. She was early for her appointment with the therapist and took off her coat to set it aside on the cushion next to her. Maybe she could pretend someone had attended with her to make this all easier. Evelyn sighed to herself softly and looked over the artwork of her arms. Tattoos intertwined with scars, she bit her bottom lip and traced a finger over the long lines that remained where the cuts had been on her wrists. Any day now it should heal completely, but she also wasn’t sure since part of the blade had been in contact with Onyx. A detail she made sure to leave out when anyone asked.
Evie took out her notebook and placed it in her lap. She still had another fifteen minutes before she had to be seen. Jaded irises lock onto the symbol on the back of her wrist. After a soft sigh the silence was starting to get to her, the thoughts getting louder in her head. She grabbed a pen and started to write a letter to her mother. Just before the door opened, she let out a huff. This was stupid. Her mother would never see the letter in the first place. The girl crunched the paper and tossed it towards the waste basket, before she stood awaiting to greet her newest therapist.
“Doctor Kowalczyk?”
Evelyn Frisk. A newcomer to Ashbourne, suicidal, just released from the hospital on the condition of weekly therapy and supervision by an older sibling. Sugar looked down at the chart, humming to herself as she read over the information available. This would be an interesting one to crack. Hugging the clipboard to her chest, she left her office, heading to the room they had set aside for the appointment. Being on active suicide watch, they wanted to have her in a room with the bare essentials. It was a practice she didn’t agree with, and she couldn’t wait for the time she could sign Evelyn off to be able to attend sessions in her office.
“Doctor Kowalcyzk?”
The girl was frail, ginger hair and pale skin. She was flushed, as if she had been upset about something in the last few moments, and it made the scars stand out even starker along her wrists. Eyes were shining as if ready to release built up tears, but her stance was somewhat stubborn as she stood before her. Interesting.
“You must be Evelyn.” She closed the door behind her, smiling at the girl as she came forward to sit in the chair across from her, motioning for the girl to do the same. “You can call me Sugar, all my patients do. I know why you have been assigned to me, but I’d like to hear in your own words why you are here today. Or, if that’s too much right now, tell me a bit about yourself. I’d like to get to know you.”
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thymeandreason:
@doctorsugar
“If you miss this appointment, again Josie, if you miss another appointment we’re going to send someone to you.” The more than slightly threatening words rang aloud in her head as she walked her way towards the all too sterile building. Therapists. Ugh. She’d fostered a hatred of them about as long as she’d been in the foster system. Which is to say all her life. Well, at least since she could talk. They didn’t really send you specific social workers until you could start spilling your guts.
Today she had an appointment with a one Doctor Sugar. Sweet. The only thing worse than a shrink was a new shrink. Josie rounded the corner and suffered a long-held sigh looking up at the building that loomed ahead. Hospitals. Gross. Seen way too much of them recently. Hell, she should have seen more of them what with the drowning thing. Would probably have to bring that shit up today too huh? Well, unless she could keep it a secret.
Why not have a little fun with this doc? While signing in and finding a comfy spot to sit and wait until she heard her name Josie decided she’d run this psychologist for all she was worth. If she was going to be forced into a talk about her recent encounters with death, why not play it for keeps?
It had been a long day of boring appointments. Issue after issue that could be whittled down to the same source. Being stuck in a town that wouldn’t let you go. Sugar was ready to stab herself to experience something different for the day. The only good thing that came from the last appointment had been the inkling that the man wasn’t human, something she would be following up on throughout the next few visits.
Her next appointment was someone new, but the name was familiar. Josephine Castillo had been appearing on her calendar for over a week now, rescheduled multiple times when the girl decided she had better things to do than show up. Sugar had to admit, she was curious. The paper showed an interesting trauma case, electrocution from some sort of vehicle malfunction. At least it was something.
“Josephine?” Sugar read the name off the chart, looking up and into the lobby to see who would respond. The girl who looked up wasn’t exactly what she expected, a small girl with round cheeks and wide eyes. Not someone she’d expect to be digging around inside a vehicle. But, then again, she wasn’t one to judge. Looking at Sugar, one wouldn’t expect her to do half the things she did, either. “Please, follow me.” She smiled, leading the girl to her office and closing the door behind her, motioning to the chair across from her own for the girl to sit in. She sat down herself, crossing her legs and pulling her notepad from her desk onto her lap, turning her attention fully to the girl before her.
“I’m Doctor Sugar Kowalczyk, but you can call me Sugar. What brings you in today?”
Clinical. || Sugar&Josie
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viv-adair:
A familiar voice penetrated Vivienne’s ears. A voice she hadn’t heard in decades, in a town far, far away from here. A voice from a time when her father still locked her in the closet for getting blood on her dress, a time when a little neighborhood girl told her she didn’t think she was that weird at all. No…it couldn’t be. Viv’s eyes snapped up and she looked at the intruder as if she were seeing a ghost. Not many things made the shrewd woman speechless, but Sugar always had a knack for it.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Of all the bars in all the towns we could have gotten trapped in.” She forced a smile onto her face, still coming to grips with the ghost of her past, and yet somehow comforted by the presence of the only person Viv ever felt like she actually trusted. Though that trust always seemed to go sideways at one point or another.
Sugar had always been more of a loose canon than Vivienne, the yang to her yin, the chaos to her control. As much as it had irked her when they were children, there was a brilliant sort of balance to it, until they went their separate ways all those years ago.
Viv repositioned herself, closing her journal slightly and taking a long sip of her drink. “It’s been awhile. How have you been?” It was far too formal for the relationship she remembered, but it had been years, and people often changed a great deal in that amount of time.
Sugar slid into the empty seat beside Vivienne, taking a sip of her own drink as she listened to the woman speak. It was so formal, so precise, but she could hear the uncertainty behind her voice. She was as shocked as Sugar was, as surprised to be here, in the same place at the same time. The odds were astronomical, and they made her feel giddy. Her smile only grew, the closest to happy she had felt in a long time.
“I’ve been.” She answered simply, lifting one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug, “Travelled far, learned a lot, and still ended up here.” She hummed, using the thin straw to stir the mojito distractedly. Sugar was, admittedly, never distracted, but the motion helped to make her seem more normal, so she busied herself with the fidgeting. “It’s been a long time, Viv. I’ve missed you.” And then something crossed her face, something that could almost be mistaken for fondness.
“You look well.”
A Shot in the Arm || Viv & Sugar
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ashfilledsoul:
@doctorsugar
The delivery boy had called out, and while Ashley had spent the initial thirty seconds contemplating removing every bone from his body in retaliation for the trouble, ultimately she had a business to run. Poppy was…not an entirely hopeless employee, but Ash certainly trusted her more in the shop than in the truck. So she was out making deliveries herself, the air around her smelling of blood and bouquets. The blood was not part of the flower arrangements. In the passenger seat was her dinner, a compelled gentleman she’d grabbed off the street. She nibbled delicately between deliveries, and while he was in no immediate danger of exsanguination, the smell of his blood was a potent perfume.
Ash dabbed the crimson from her lips as she pulled up to Bellevue. Funerals made up a good fifty percent of her business with the town’s hospitals making up another firty. In a town like this everyone broke their mind or their body sooner or later. The amount of arrangements in the truck that were for Bellevue told Ash this month was an example of sooner. “Stay here,” she ordered her to-go dinner. “Anyone approaches you just smile and tell them you’re waiting for me.”
Six bouquets in a little cart, the wheels squeaking as Ash delivered five of them to patient rooms. The six though, was for a Ms. Kowalczyk. An exhausted looking med nurse pointed Ashley towards an employee office. She stopped to survey the plaque outside the door and grimaced. A shrink, oh how off putting. The idea of people trying to heal people by poking around in their heads was intently disconcerting to the vampire. Still business was business and the vampire knocked, forcing a smile as she entered. “Ms. Kowalcyk, you must have a very pleased client. This is one of my most expensive arrangements.” Cellophane wrapped present in hand, she approached the desk. “It’s freshly watered and should last you a full week before it starts to wilt.”
She didn’t have an appointment for another hour, so when there was a knock at the door she grimaced. Who could be bothering her now? Plastering a smile on her lips, Sugar looked up from her paperwork, a genuine look of surprise crossing her face when someone she didn’t recognize entered the room. Her forced smile became a little easier to maintain as she stood to accept the bouquet.
“Please, you can call me Sugar. Ms. Kowalczyk is so formal.” She walked around her desk to take the flowers, using the movement to assess the woman before her. She hadn’t seen her before, but then again she had yet to actually visit the flower shop in town, but something about her drew Sugar’s attention. Something nagged at her, but the scent of the flowers as they padded hands overwhelmed any inkling she might have had. She never really understood the point of keeping plants, and the idea of cutting flowers from the root to watch them slowly die was pointless to her. But, to each their own, and she wouldn’t mind if it meant meeting more inhabitants of the strange town.
“I try to do my best to keep my patients happy, or to teach them how to keep themselves that way.” She took a moment to admire the flowers, understanding how this might be a more expensive arrangement, “These flowers are beautiful. Do you grow them yourself?”
Blood and Bouquets
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Running was one of Sugar’s favorite pastimes, stretching her muscles and pushing her limits. Every morning she woke with the sun and went out into the town, no matter the weather. During her time jogging, she had made a few acquaintances, one of which was keeping pace beside her now. Sugar gave her a quick smile, surprised she had run into her after not seeing her for almost two weeks.
“That fried food is a trap. Are we sure they weren’t trying to fatten us all up for the woods to devour?” She laughed easily, turning her face back into the brisk wind as they continued to move along the path. The woman’s name was escaping her at the moment, something with a ‘Ch’ or ‘Sh’. Sharon? No, it didn’t feel right, but the sound was close. Perhaps she would remember before the next mile.
– @doctorsugar
“You know,” Charlotte’s words were broken up as she jogged beside the other woman whom she’d become acquainted with during her early morning runs, “I think all that festival food is still sitting pretty,” from nearly two weeks ago. But it had been nearly two weeks since she’d been jogging anyway. The witches wasn’t, by any means, out of breath, but she felt the extra work she was putting in as opposed to when she was out on the trails consistently every day or, at least, every other day.
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finnblackthorne:
The sun was beginning to fade, giving way to dusky oranges falling across the town. Finn wondered if the original settlers wandered into this place and thought it was beautiful, rather than dangerous. If they had ever thought it would become a snowglobe of nightmares and mysteries. Thoughts like this often found their way into the werewolf’s brain on days like this, soft spring days where the daylight stretched further into the night. Most of Ashbourne’s creatures preferred the night, and sometimes he agreed with their sentiments, despite the increase in crime and violence.
But tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
It was way too close to the full moon for Finn to be comfortable. He could practically feel his skin itching, the wolf ready to tear out of his human casing at any moment. So he decided to take his evening lap a little earlier today, swinging through the main square, keeping an eye out for new faces. It seemed like there was a new one every damn day, now.
A breeze flew by, rustling some leaves to Finn’s left and carrying the strong scent of tobacco smoke. He wrinkled his nose. The man was never one for smoking, despite the fact that nearly everyone at the Station smoked like a damn chimney. He followed the scent to a woman leaning against the aged brick wall. She wasn’t brand new, but Finn had yet to really speak to the smoker before now. She was a…doctor of some sort, but not at the hospital. A therapist maybe? He could have chuckled. He couldn’t think of a town more in need of therapy and less willing to take it than Ashbourne.
“S’cuse me, miss. I just wanted to introduce myself, and kindly ask that you remember to use the proper receptacle for that,” he motioned to the barely lit cigarette. “Once you’re finished, of course.”
He held out a strong hand. “Finn Blackthorne, Watcher. You’re the new therapist around here, right?”
An eyebrow lifted as the man jogged up to her, the cigarette perched between two fingers. She brought it to her lips, taking a long drag before turning her head to blow the smoke away from the stranger, looking him up and down before smiling. Well, she had wanted to meet someone new after all. She reached out with her free hand, taking his in a purposefully delicate grip.
“Yes, that would be me. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blackthorne. I’m Doctor Sugar Kowalczyk, but you can call me Sugar. All my patients do.” She let her hand linger for a moment before pulling it away to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, giving him a pleasant smile. “Watchers. Such an interesting concept. I had never seen an organized force like it outside of Ashbourne. What made you choose that path?”
She took another drag of the cigarette, pinching the ash from the tip when she was done and pulling a handkerchief from her purse to wrap the half-smoked butt in before placing it in her pocket. No sense in smoking in this man’s face, not when she wanted to make a good impression.
So You Feel Entitled to a Sense of Control
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viv-adair:
@doctorsugar
There were only a few places in town Vivienne actually wanted to frequent, and the bars and taverns were not even close to the top of the list. However, the creatures of Ashbourne loved to drown their sorrows, hunt their human prey, and indulged themselves in all sorts of debauchery wherever they could. As a result, Viv was required to find herself ordering a drink at the dingy bar, the smell of wet dog infiltrating her senses.
She wrinkled her nose and took the subpar martini, settling herself in on the cleanest barstool she could find. It was plainly obvious how out of place she was, and Viv could feel more than one set of curious eyes on her. Assuming her trademark posture, aggression rolling off her in waves, Viv made herself seem bigger, like less of a target. It was defense method many creatures used when they knew they could easily be claimed as prey. Pulling out her journal and turning to a fresh page, Viv began to write. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted a couple of men shoving each other, growls ripping from their beefy bodies.
This was the routine she’d fallen into while she waited for her lab results to finalize. It was the preliminary testing of both Mr. Lopez’ and Mr. Castellas’ samples, which she would then compare to each other, as well as the samples she’d gained from Philippe and her shifter specimen. Viv absently rolled her shoulders, her muscles still sore from when the Ursidae threw her across her room. Flipping to the back of the journal, she made a quick note to find some kind of repairman to come fix her apartment. It wouldn’t do to allow any of her volunteers to see her home in such a state and she was sure the college may have some thoughts on the “human” testing she was doing, even if it was with her subject’s knowledge and approval.
Not even bothering to glance up from her notebook, Viv reached out, taking a small sip of the martini and noticed a figure beginning to loom over her right shoulder, invading her personal space.
“Excuse me, please find your own seat, thanks,” She spat, keeping her eyes on the page.
Sitting around was finally beginning to grate on her nerves, and after months of being in the town, Sugar decided it was time she checked out more than just cozy cafes and shops. The bar seemed crowded, rowdy, with a dim light that spoke of how little the floors must be swept. It was perfect. And, if things went well, perhaps she might be able to find someone to take home.
The mass of people in such a small space would set most people on edge, but Sugar felt comfortable slipping between the drunken bodies towards the bar. Places like this made it so easy to blend in, to disappear. And it made it so much easier to slip away with someone in tow and not be remembered later. She just needed a drink first, some time to scope out the crowd and find an easy target. And even if she didn’t find a prize tonight, she could at least find someone to have fun with.
It was as she was leaning against the counter, the bartender handing over her mojito, that she spotted a figure sitting further down the bar. Something about the hair, the curve of the woman’s shoulder, the delicate hands as they wrote... it all brought memories flooding back. With a grin that could only be described as pleased, Sugar made her way to the woman’s side, almost laughing when she was greeted with harsh words.
“Is that any way to speak to an old friend?” She purred, her voice low as she leaned in a little closer, a smirk gracing her lips.
A Shot in the Arm || Viv & Sugar
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fmalice:
@doctorsugar
Therapy. Ridiculous. He was of sound mind, it’s just no one else was. Everyone else was fucking batty and needed to be eradicated. Maybe minus three people, but everyone else could burn and he wouldn’t even care. He decided to pay the good therapist a visit, mainly because he decided to branch out his search for the supernatural. This should be fun. He could play the therapy part well, maybe he would steal their identity. Scratch that. He remembered the good therapist was a woman.
….He could still do it. Just put on a red wig and get haughty whenever anyone chastised it. Once Sugar is sat across from him he puts down the book he had been looking at. How the bloody hell did these things even start? Certainly not with a ‘Once upon a time. Are you a supernatural? Good. Bye.’ Fergus crossed his leg and placed his hands into his lap patiently.
“T’ank ye for seein’ me on such short notice lass. My ex seemed to t’ink it was rather dire I see one of ye expertise.” Fergus sighed dejectedly. “I’m Fergus Malicer. Where do we begin t’ese things? Dingo ate my baby? Fat’er ran me off a cliff? Mat’er t’rew me to ta wolves. Ah, my favorite is ta voices. Always blamin’ ta voices.”
Well. It seemed her three o’clock was here.
She sat calmly in the seat across from him, crossing her legs at the ankles and pulling out a notepad, fingers delicately holding the pen to the page. This one was interesting, an energy about him that spoke of something wild. Supernatural? She wasn’t certain, but she almost wanted to smile. At least this would be a fun visit.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fergus. I’m Doctor Kowalczyk, but please, call me Sugar. ‘Lass’ is a bit much for someone my age.” She smiled pleasantly, handing him her card with her number and name written in a thin, easy to read font. “If you ever need anything outside of our visits, please don’t hesitate to call. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer every time, but I’ll always call you back.”
“Now. Let’s unpack this, shall we?” Her demeanor shifted, sitting forward and tilting her head as if curious, and she was. “Dingo ate your baby. Let’s begin there. Any reason you’re referencing a, by all means, uncertainly solved case from the ‘80′s? Or is it just to be cheeky? We’ll touch upon whatever your parents did do when you are more comfortable, but I must say you seem like someone who only answers to your own voice, not any strange whisperings in your head.”
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So You Feel Entitled to a Sense of Control
Sugar tapped her pen against the large yellow notepad, nodding to herself before quickly jotting down a few words. With another nod, and with the room lapsing into silence, Sugar smiled up at the person in the chair across the rug from her.
“Well, it seems like we are all out of time for today. I want you to try to do something for me this week.” She tucked the pen into the pages of the notepad, turning it upside down on her lap before leaning forward, hands clasped over her knees, “I want you to write down each time you start to feel this low feeling you described to me. You’ve been doing well keeping a journal, so if you can do this little extra thing, we can take a closer look at the behaviors preceding the emotion in a couple weeks.” The man nodded at her, mumbling their affirmation. “Good. Now, please stop at the receptionist on the way out to confirm the next appointment, and I will see you soon Glen.”
The human stood and walked out of her office, giving her an awkward smile that she returned warmly. The moment the door clicked shut, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. God, humans were so boring. The man had been seeing her for a few months, one of her first patients after settling into the strange town. She had hoped there would be something interesting about him, but it was just a classic, boring, human illness. Luckily, he was her last client for the day, and that meant she was free to go.
She needed a cigarette.
Tossing the notepad onto her pristine desk, she stood and stretched, rolling her neck before grabbing her jacket and purse and heading out of her office. She took the stairs down to the lobby of the building, heels clicking on the tile floor as she walked out the front door, giving the receptionist by the entrance a wave. It was a warm day for mid-March, a balmy breeze rustling her hair as she walked out to the sidewalk, pulling her cigarettes and a lighter from her purse and taking one out to place between her lips. The rush of nicotine barely did a thing for her, her growing disappointment from the day making her frown.
She was growing restless. Her last prize had been months before she ended up in this town, and her fingers itched to hurt and maim. But she knew she had to be patient. Here, in a place with magic so powerful it could pull people from anywhere in the world... well, the creatures would likely come to her.
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Tatiana Maslany photographed by Chris Nicholls for FASHION magazine (September 2016)
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