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sassooda · 3 years

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Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 23 - Control

w/c - 6,439

Shoko is standing on the left side of Satoru as he lays unconscious on the medical table. The room is bright under the fluorescent lights, the walls white to match the tiled floor. “I never thought he would be one to wind up in here…” She looks up to Toji and Nanami, “I can definitely fix him up but are the seals really necessary?”

“That fucker lost his mind and went after Megumi.” Toji huffs as he looks down at Satoru. He’s still shirtless after using his wings to fly to the scene and then to fly the bastard back to the academy. Blood still on his off-white pants.

“They are indeed necessary because if he wakes up in that same state, we won’t be able to control him.” Nanami finds himself extremely torn on the idea of sealing Gojo’s powers, he really would rather get through to him if that were possible.

“So it was that bad, huh?” Shoko switches her gaze to Satoru as she continues to heal him. “This is just a hunch but I’m guessing there are certain levels of your newfound abilities Toji…” She runs her hand across Gojo’s forehead, brushing his hair away, “His infinity doesn’t recognize Elska at all, her transmitted wavelengths of energy disrupt their continuous flow.” She now looks back to Toji. “Did you feel or notice anything different when the attacks landed on him?”

Toji crosses his arms as he leans against the wall a few feet away, “It did feel different…almost like an additional surge from within packed the extra punch.” Some of his chest muscles twitch as he relives the powerful feeling.

“Megumi also reported that the exchange happened because Satoru was targeting the city…” Nanami’s voice minimizes knowing that he’s being put in an impossible situation in regards to other’s safety. He’s taking off his tanned suit jacket to become a little more comfortable.

She walks over to the table that has Elska’s bloodied wing and runs her hands along the metal feathers. “Toji, how are you feeling right now?”

“I’m fucking on edge what do you think?” Toji didn’t mean to be so snippy, he’s just feeling out of sorts.

“When was the last time you fed?” Shoko seems to be thinking heavily as she walks across the room for sample scraping tools.

“Two days.” Toji clenches his fists as he thinks about Elska being in the hands of the enemy.

“That’s not good.” Shoko is still completely composed after taking in all the information. “I’ve worked with Elska on this in the past, I may be able to create something to hold you over. This wing right here is the key to it all.”

All three of their eyes take to the wing. Toji winces as his eyes meet it.

“If I can’t though, you’ll have to feed from someone else…” She looks over to Gojo, “We know his blood suffices for Elska so maybe that would work too.”

“He tastes like SHIT I am not interested.” The very thought of having to find nourishment through Gojo makes his skin crawl. “Please do what you can but I’m planning on rescuing them.”

“Her original purpose for being brought to this world was to eliminate Satoru…” Nanami finally chimes in, “…but now we know anyone else like her might hold the same capabilities as well. What I don’t understand is, if there was an entire world of people like this, why choose her when she wasn’t willing?”

“That is strange, I wonder why as well…” Shoko is now leaning over the wing on the waist high white countertop, scraping away tissue into a petri dish. “I’ll get on this right away Toji, just don’t go losing your cool too!” She winks at him as she applies the lid to the dish and sets it by her row of microscopes.

Toji is trying his best to remain calm due to everything that has happened but his heart breaks at the thought of the kid and her being in Getou’s hands. “We have to get them.”

Shoko is now back to healing Satoru, using her energy’s wavelengths to assist Gojo’s reverse technique to improve the rate at which it takes. “I’ve got this covered here if you two have other business to handle.”

“We are not leaving you alone with him until we know he’s mentally stable.” Nanami’s tone was law in this accord, his mind made up.

Just then Satoru shows signs of stirring. Toji jumps from the wall and is ready to strike if Gojo isn’t well. Nanami takes a step forward to be beside Toji with the same intent in mind. They all have to turn their eyes from the blinding blue light emitting from the talismans wrapped around his body, acting like restraints to assist the metal ones over his wrists and legs.

“What…what the…” Gojo’s eyes open slowly as he tries to move his body, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” Upon recognizing that he’s restrained he’s thrown into a wild reaction, jolting his body around trying to break free. “NOT AGAIN!!!!!!” He roars as his wounds begin to reopen, not having been fully addressed by this time.

Shoko hurriedly moves back to the side of him and slaps him across the face. Toji and Nanami gasp before charging over to the table.

“Gojo, what the FUCK do you think you’re doing acting this way?” Her voice is stern, almost motherly as she expresses her disappointment to his recent actions.

Gojo didn’t feel the pain from the slap but the action was enough to catch his attention. He glares up at her hatefully for a few seconds before his eyes water, following his features softening. “Why…why do you guys have me sealed like this…WHY?” He struggles a little more but not as rapidly as before. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU GUYS?” He snaps his head over to Toji and Nanami as he fears he’s been betrayed.

“Satoru, do you not recall trying to level the city?” Nanami is calmly walking towards his friend and even grabs his wrist gently. “You also tried to hurt Megumi…”

Gojo’s eyes are panicked as he listens to Nanami’s words. He doesn’t recall at first and thinks this is some weird psychological punishment of some sort so he yells like a mad man while flailing in the restraints, throwing his body against the metal table. “I wouldn’t attack Megumi!!! What the fuck!?”

“But you did shit head, you put my boy in your domain…” Toji’s face is completely burned over with discontent. “I had to break in to get him out.” Toji is snarling at the memories.

Gojo has a flash of realization as he does indeed remember doing the things he’s accused of. His eyes take to the ceiling, ignoring Shoko to his left and the men in the room. He tears up as he recalls viciously trying to end both Toji and Megumi. “Fuck…”

“You are far too powerful to lose control like that Gojo, you know better than this.” Shoko is wiping his tears away as they spill from the corners of his eyes. “You are one of my closest and oldest friends, I know you. What do you think Elska would say to that?”

Immediately Gojo begins to cry as the overwhelming facts of his Elska and Itadori reclaim his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He takes a second to breathe and control himself, “Getou is going to do horrible things, he already has.” He exhales heavily through his teeth as he looks to Shoko, “I’m sorry…” He then turns his head the best he can to look at Toji and Nanami, “Her wing…he ripped it out of her…” He wails in frustration as he considers his predicament. She is in trouble and he’s once again unable to move. That alone breaks him slightly. “I just want them back…”

Nanami squeezes his friend’s wrist with concern. “We’re going to get them Satoru but we need your help.” He frowns as he looks over the talismans that are still slightly glowing blue where the kanji ink sits. “You can’t do that again, I probably shouldn’t even risk letting you out of this.” His brow furrows further and he removes his tinted glasses to look into Gojo’s eyes.

Gojo is clearly agitated by Nanami’s words but understands where he’s coming from. He’s just in an odd post-traumatic state from when he was sealed before. His pain that he was able to ignore from the sudden adrenaline begins to set in. “God damnit, why am I hurting so bad?”

“I had to put a few holes in you before you stopped you obnoxious cunt.” Toji hasn’t made any effort to come closer now that he sees Gojo speaking, he doesn’t care to offer him any comfort either. “Next time you go after my boy though, that’s it…I’ll fucking kill you. We now know that I can too.”

Gojo’s eyes darken as they take to Toji’s direction. He doesn’t appreciate being spoken to like that, he’s still the strongest after all.

“Toji, that’s not helping but Gojo,” Shoko directs his chin to face her, “You understand the position you’ve put us in, right? We need to know that you’re good before we let you out of this.”

Gojo grunts and closes his eyes to regain his composure. That collected state of mind almost feels foreign to him as the recent events have skewed time, making it seem like 2 days were actually 2 years. “I get it.” Is all he says

“Now let me heal you up, it’ll be faster than your own technique that’s not used to healing you.” She smiles at him lovingly, knowing that he has to feel incredibly small like this. She has a lot of love for Gojo, they went through the academy together and have been the right kinds of strange to mesh well in a friendship. She’s also very taken by Elska and Itadori, as people and as scientific anomalies.

Nanami looks down to Gojo and smirks, “Maybe we need alcohol again.” A little chuckle leaves his lips as he brushes his own hair back. He sees Satoru smile briefly as well and it brings him a little more at ease. “I know you care about them a lot Satoru but we need to go about this as a team. You can’t just go around hurting people, you’re past that now.”

Gojo’s eyes water slightly to this as he knows Nanami is probably the only person that is completely familiar with Gojo’s evolution of becoming a better man. He knows he messed up severely and also recognizes that if he doesn’t get his shit together soon then they’ll have that much less of a chance to save the two of them. “I know…” He takes in another deep breath, grasping more sanity and the room seems to relax as the talismans finally stop glowing.

“I do know that they want to enlist Sukuna as one of their own so Itadori might not be as in much danger. Getou hates Elska though which is why I think he did what he did…” Toji looks to her wing instinctually and feels a pit in his chest. ‘Master…” echoes through his ears internally. “Naoya contacted me recently…” He sees Gojo’s eyes dart in his direction, “It was before all of this obviously you dumb fuck. He was asking for my help with making her a Zenin…he doesn’t seem to trust Getou’s intentions either.”

“They’re both irreplaceable to us and in many ways.” Nanami is now leaning against the metal table with his back by Gojo’s legs. “What of your inside man Toji?”

“I’ve tried to contact Choso and Naoya both, they aren’t answering.” Toji unfolds his arms and walks to the foot of the metal table, being the last one to surround him. He grabs Gojo’s ankles firmly and says, “Are you going to make me save them by myself you fucking fool?” His mannerisms are unkind but there’s a trace of friendliness as well.

“I want them back…” Gojo looks to Toji, not acknowledging his hands on his ankles.

Toji may not necessarily like Gojo but knows they have a common goal. “I wish I could say that Naoya would be protecting her but I don’t understand how Getou got ahold of her wing if he was…I actually fear the worst there.”

“I hate to say it but I don’t think Naoya would’ve allowed that either.” Gojo is trying his best to remain calm as they discuss the severities further. “I know he cares about her, it was written all over his face when we last met.” Gojo proceeds to think of that weird dynamic and situation from when Elska and everyone saved him before. A part of him begins to imagine Naoya wrapping his arms around her protectively and for some reason he’s not enraged by it but feels saddened. ‘God Damnit…’

“I do know that Naoya and Choso are likely to break away from Getou but he’s strong. If we do succeed in defeating him, then we’ll have to worry about the Zenin clan immediately afterwards.” Toji has since removed his hands from Gojo and is folding his arms again, “But perhaps we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I’ll kill them all if I have to.” Gojo’s voice wasn’t erratic or even emotional but it disturbed everyone in the room.

“If you want to make her situation better then you absolutely cannot just fucking kill everyone Satoru, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Nanami is losing his patience, knowing that Gojo is capable of controlling himself but is wondering if Gojo’s just declining to do so.

“I JUST WANT THEM BACK DAMNIT!” Gojo tries to lift up from the table but his neck will only bend so far while laid out flat causing him to give up and hit the back of his head.

“Take a few to cool off Satoru. We’re not letting you out until you do.” Nanami is always so forward but knows it’s for the best. Sugar coating this for him won’t do anything but bite them in the ass later.

“Fuck you.” Gojo is back to staring at the ceiling.

“I love you too buddy.” Nanami cackles to Gojo’s response. He felt the truth in his words but also understands his friend pretty well, knowing that he’s just reeling in the fact that they lost Itadori and Elska. Everyone is upset about it so he knows Gojo being her protector is especially fueled.

“Shoko, can’t I at least kill them?” Gojo’s eyes are no longer dark as he shoots them somewhat playfully to her.

“You crack me up Gojo!” She’s laughing at his deflective behavior as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “No you may not.” She’s serious but is still giggling. “There’s one more thing though…” Gojo is curiously looking to her, “I need some of your blood.”

“Well I’m not really in the position to refuse now am I?” He keeps trying to sit himself up as he grows more frustrated with being pinned lying down.

“It’s for the greater good, I promise!” Shoko smiles to him widely as she decides to hold off on explaining that it’s for Toji. Their relationship still seems pretty tumultuous at the moment.

“Go ahead then…” Gojo is fighting his anger as he comes to terms with the fact that they’re trying to help. “Do we have any plans in the making? How the fuck do we even find them without Choso?”

“I’ll work on that angle.” Toji is determined to contact one of them.

“And I’ll start putting a team together.” Nanami is grabbing his folded suit coat as he seems to be leaving the room. “Can I trust you Satoru?”

“I’m fine I promise…I won’t attack anyone…” Gojo tries to look over to Nanami but can’t. “Just get me out of this PLEASE.”

“I’m going to finish healing you first so why don’t you just sit back and relax for a few.” Shoko smiles to him again and is relieved to see that Gojo will comply. “Alright boys, do what you have to do, we’re ok here!”

Gojo’s eyes meet Toji’s again as the massive man stares him down. He can tell that Toji is still unsure about him and figures there was no getting around that. Instead of inciting more aggression from him though he just scoffs and looks away, not liking the feeling at being to their mercy at all.

“I’ll be back in a little bit to check on everything.” Toji now goes to leave the room.

When left alone Shoko grabs Gojo’s hand and holds it with both of her own. “Sweetie, you really have to be mindful, ok? Especially now that we know that Toji can hurt you… I don’t want any of that so please…please just get along alright?” Gojo’s eyes are expressing annoyance but she continues, “I know you miss them and are worried about her but we will get them back.” She now squeezes softly to administer more emotion to him. “She would be devastated if anything happened to you, is that what you want?”

“I just want to know they’re ok… I need her Shoko. I always have…”

“I know, I know… and we’ll fix all of this but you’re imperative for the rescue so knock off the villain shit alright?” She now brushes up and down his arm as she feels him relax more. “That’s not you anymore...you have to control it.”

He tears up again to hearing this, knowing he’s still actually quite evil on the inside but she knows this too. She’s merely asking him to keep himself in check.

“I will…but when I get my hands on Getou, I’m ripping his fucking body in two.”

“Now that I won’t argue against, he’s a lost cause.” They both smile at the verbally murderous exchange and he quietly thanks her as he breathes deeply to let her continue her healing.

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Naoya is heading back to Elska’s room with haste, not liking the idea of her being unguarded for even a second. He holds in his hands traditional styled yukatas threaded by his Zenin blue. He meant to already have clothes ready for her but completely forgot to incorporate that into the design of the room. He remembers how a couple of hours ago she asked him, “So, Naoya? Am I to just remain naked here or what?” She was half kidding but her shaman uniform that she arrived in was completely trashed by that point. He felt so embarrassed at missing such a huge detail, hoping that she knew he didn’t do that on purpose.

As he walks down the hall towards her room he catches Choso heading the opposite direction. “Cho!” He calls out to see the being halt and turn around. By the time he makes it to Choso, he’s standing a few doors away from Elska’s room. “Hey so how did it go with Ita-…”

“Naoya, cease your words!” Choso seems on edge and Naoya starts to worry that perhaps their reunion didn’t go as planned.

“There’s a Titer here, I can feel their technique.” Choso whispers cautiously. “I don’t know what they’re watching or doing… but someone definitely is. We can’t talk right now.”

Naoya’s eyes widen to this, thinking Getou enlisted one to force Elska’s cooperation and he darts to and through her door quickly. “ELSKA! Are you alright?!” He runs into the room in a frenzied state but finds her sitting on the couch with a book, unharmed and alone. “Holy SHIT, my heart!”

“I’m…fine?” Her look is of confusion as she sees Naoya’s demeanor ease and looks at all the fabric he’s carrying. “What is all of that?”

“Clothes!” He smiles and sets them down on the arm of the couch before going back out into the hallway to look for Choso but he was gone already. He fears he’ll be unable to openly speak to Choso about this now but figures he’ll find a way to communicate with him. He now shuts her door behind him as she’s already standing up and trying to figure out the cloth.

“You brought me bath robes?” She giggles as she holds up the top one, it looking too large to fit her.

“They’re traditional in my family and are called Yukata’s.” He smiles as he catches his breath and walks towards her, his anxiousness dissipating. She puts in on around her body, discarding the top silver sheet from the bed that she originally was wrapped in for modesty. He notices that she has not the first clue as to how to wear them. “That’s not at all how it goes,” He chuckles as he lifts the bundle of cloth to remove the under robe from the bottom of the pile the goes beneath it, “You can’t just be nude underneath this!!”

“Show me the way then Master Naoya” She jokingly offers a bow as she’s interested in learning exactly how to put all of it on.

He was in the process of wrapping the underwear robe before stopping to her words. ‘She said it…she said it!’ Hearing it felt better than he ever would have imagined, even if was in a different context than his fantasies. Seeing that she was bare he continued to help her with the dressing, smiling widely behind her as he adores this moment.

“No bra huh? I like this already!!” She places her arms through the sleeves and sees there’s two separate areas on both sides to tie it. She manages to figure this part out but as she’s tying the second knot, his arms wrap around her from behind.

“I’m so glad you’re alright…” he lowly speaks into her ear as he holds her there.

“I’ve not had any unexpected visitors if that’s what you’re worried about.” She places a hand on his forearm that’s draped above her chest.

He turns her around to face him and places a hand under her chin to lift her head towards him. “That’s good, it shall remain that way.” He leans in to kiss her lightly before grabbing the dark blue yukata. He opens it, outstretching his arms, allowing her to slide her right arm in first and then the left. She takes the robes and wraps them around her but he stops and corrects it. “The left side should always be on top, you wrap the right side against your body first.” He smiles as he shakes his head and positions the yukata properly. “Here hold it like this.” He waits for her to pinch the cloth on her right hip before he reaches for the first of two separate ties. “You first secure the robes with this!” He maneuvers the tie around her hips and waist before snugly knotting it on that same side. “You then have to either tie or tuck the rest of it. Now here, lift up your arms.” She does and he brings a second fastening cloth tie around her but this time beneath her bosom.

“You just wanted to touch me!” She giggles as he shrugs as if to agree but she knows there was more to this than just that.

“I always do” He finally retorts with kindness in his eyes. “You can put them down for now.” He’s shifting the fabric underneath the ties he’s made so that it overlaps in the front, hiding the fasteners. He then holds one hand on the front of her yukata while loosening the collar, “It’s also traditional to show off the nape of your neck but with class of course.” He creates the slack in the back of her collar and hums to how seductive she is, even with being fully clothed now. His lips meet her nape gently before he circles her again to grab the silver and black two-toned obi. “Typically this would be much more vibrant but these are what I was able to grab on short notice.”

“This is a lot of work!” She’s amazed by the process and how intricate donning traditional wear is. “I’m not so sure I would’ve figured this out on my own.” She’s laughing as he holds the thick long obi out in front of her, “That’s so long!”

“That’s what she said” He chuckles at his own joke nervously until she picks up on the meaning. He’s relieved she understood. He hangs and end of the obi over her right shoulder as he ties it from the front. “This goes behind you but if you’re really willing to learn I’ll demonstrate.” He gets down on his knees as he wraps it around her twice. The piece lying over her should now becomes orderly folded three times, to which he then grabs the other end of the obi to wrap it around the fold, creating an extravagant bow. “Now we just twist this behind you…” He’s back up to his feet as he shimmies it to the back. He backs away from her to take in the full view and finds himself overwhelmed with joy. “You look beautiful…”

She strikes a few little poses for him, finding that this was way harder to maneuver in than her normal clothes. She walks over to the mirror and stands back to see as much of it as she can. Naoya walks behind her and engulfs her body into his arms, them crossing underneath the obi. “Just like a princess…” He whispers behind her as he kisses the side of her head and cheek. He’s completely fine with seeing this for the rest of his life.

She turns around to face him and lean into the sink. Her hands cup his face as he leans down into her, their lips meeting passionately. The moment their tongues touch she feels her body temperature rising rapidly and her eyes glow through their lids. She feels him abruptly stop and instead of being met with his lustful eyes, she see’s that he looks concerned instead.

He pulls away after noticing the heat and the faintest trail of the scent. “Elska…” He fills his lungs with it while trying to remain focused. “We have to get that under control. It’s not safe for you if we don’t.” His words are almost at whisper volume again and she’s clearly picking up that there’s something more going on than she’s aware of.

“I don’t know if I can Naoya, you set them off randomly for me…” He brings her gaze to his chest as she lays her head against it. She just needs to be near him and loves it when he expresses the same urge.

“Well, we start training today then.” He grabs her shoulders and pushes her back a few inches so he can see her eyes. He’s back to whispering completely, “Getou doesn’t know about the pheromones or how your bite feels, it was an agreement Toji and I made months ago…” His hands start rubbing her shoulders, “If he finds out, I’ll be forced to kill him now…he’ll not let you go at that point.” Naoya wants her of course but knows that if they don’t figure that out soon then he won’t be the only one. ‘Getou knowing would spare her life automatically but at what cost?’ He’s not willing to find out.

“How exactly do we train for this then?” She’s not even sure how to go about that. “Even when I feed from you, it releases sometimes….” The hopelessness on her face is evident as she considers feeding less.

“If you react so rashly to me then maybe I shouldn’t be so handsy.” He immediately withdraws his caressing of her shoulder only to feel cold as he leaves her there standing without his touch.

“But I want you to be, you feel so good to me Naoya…” She’s upset that he’s right even if its not what she wants.

“Let’s try feeding for today then…maybe drink slower or something.” He’s realizing he doesn’t know how to train for this either. He’d probably feel a little more defeated about the whole thing if she wasn’t so pretty before him in his clan’s colors. “You really do look stunning in the Zenin blue.” His hand caresses her left cheek as the words leave his mouth. “I want to give you everything that I am but we have to survive this first my dear…” She nods in response and he feels a little less weighted about the situation.

He grabs her hand and brings her back to the couch as he sits down and guides her above. He’s sitting on something hard and pulls it out from underneath him. It was the book she was reading called ‘Lilith: The Best Mutual written by Nakiich.’ He smiles to her love for books and shifts their weight so can carefully place it on the cushion beside them. “Is it a good read?”

As her legs find their way on either side of him under her, she smiles and explains, “Yes it is! It’s a book that one of my favorite writers wrote about my other favorite writer.” She sees him not fully understanding, “It’s adult stuff Naoya, you’re too young for that.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her towards him as she squeals to his soft attack. “I’m pretty sure we’re about the same age my little minx.” He laughs, “You’ll just have to read it for me one day.” He’s still smiling but begins to unbutton his collar entirely so she doesn’t have to worry about working around it. She helps him by finishing the buttons while listening to the silence that’s only weakened by their breathing. When she’s finished he looks up to her glowing eyes and runs his hand up her left arm as she grabs his bicep for stability. “Remember to try going slower this time, we need to see if that’s a variable at all.”

She nods to him before aiming for neck. She stops as her face passes his cheek and pecs him on it before using her fangs to pierce him. His taste instantaneously forces a moan out her like it always does, the perfection that is his flavor has always swooned her. The sweetness of him, the care, the loyalty, his thoughts concerning her… everything was just so attractive.

He tries to hold his moan back but was unsuccessful as her draw from him feels nothing short of incredible. His hands find themselves gripping her thighs as she takes from him. “Go slow baby, we have to figure…figure this out.” He’s trying to remain level headed but is struggling to do so. He hears her whimpers and it causes him to grow beneath her. ‘No no little man…knock that off…’ he thinks as he fights so many urges at once. Her body temperature starts to rise as he feels his bulge nudging her. ‘Shit!’ He pulls her away as she pants above him, blood slowly spilling from his neck. She reaches down to close and heal the wounds and then opens her eyes.

She feels her heat regulating itself as she stares down into Naoya’s. She was close to releasing them but hasn’t fed enough nor is her other thirst quenched. Her physical thirst for him. “Naoya…” Her eyes are half lidded, her voice purposefully trying to entice him.

He looks up to her and hums as he battles himself. Of course he wants to take her to the bed but he’s worried about another incident like before occurring. He barely was able to lie his way out of that situation with Getou and isn’t even convinced that Getou believed him. “Elska… I don’t know if we should yet.”

She disagrees initially and bounces on him a few times, resting herself into his pitched tent. She whines his name again and she can tell he’s trying to hold back.

After her pressing the issue he shifts them both until he’s able to stand, her legs wrapping around him. She grins so widely and leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back but presses her back against the wall near the door. “Once we leave here, I swear by all that is good in this world that I will fill you as many times as you need. Whenever, wherever.” He kisses her cheek as he sees her understanding that he’s not going to have sex with her. “If I am to keep you safe my princess, then we have to be smart…now more than ever.” Her legs slowly release from around him and he sets her down gently onto her feet.

“Naoya, what else aren’t you telling me?” She’s frustrated with him but can’t be too angry. ‘He really does cherish me…’

His face is twisted in anger, “There’s a Titer somewhere on the premises… we don’t know what is being watched but I can almost guarantee it’s Getou using them, trying to figure you out…” He sighs as he engraves this moment into his brain, wanting to use this hatred for the man when the time comes to take him out.

“A Titer?” She knows she’s heard that before but asks him anyways for clarification. ‘That beast is watching us?’

“They’re a clan with mind altering capabilities and more… Gojo used them to manipulate your memories…” His eyes take to the wall beside her as he hates even speaking of that. He feels her hand cupping his face bringing back to face her own.

“That makes sense…” Is all she says while looking at him but her demeanor is still one that’s attentive to him. “Ok…I’ll stop pushing the issue…”

“It’s really difficult to refuse you Elska, I hope you understand how much I detest not making you happy.” He’s noticing that her yukata is already messed up and chuckles under his breath as he goes to reposition it.

“I don’t know how we’ll get through this part,” She laughs, “Because I am dripping over here.”

Naoya sighs heavily to this, knowing that he wants to check for himself but there’s no way that’ll end with anything other than melting into each other. “God damnit…why?” He throws his head back slightly as he tries to refrain from making any moves that may cause him regret. He thinks he has an idea of how to lessen the sexual tension but isn’t sure how to word it. She’s still looking at him caringly, her hands traveling around his arms. “Maybe…and just hear me out…” He feels himself blushing at the words he’s articulating while she curiously waits for what he has to say. “Maybe you should try…ummm…taking care of yourself before I come to see you.” He can’t even look at her and is embarrassed that he just suggested masturbation.

She quickly finds herself bellowing out laughter at how awkward he’s being. She doesn’t mean to tease him but she doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable either, it was actually a legitimate possibility that could help. “Maybe if I do it to the thought of you.”

He quietly gasps at this and feels that didn’t hinder his erection at all. Unsure of how to react to her response he just looks at her and slowly smiles…he can’t even keep the straight face. “I will carry my weight and do the same…maybe to you as well.” The excitement in his words was painfully obvious to and he is now feeling awe at how easily they can communicate to each other.

“Maybe a bath will help to right now.” She sees his eye twitch after she spoke.

“You…you are killing me right now…” He says this but his vision is already taken by tub. He raises an eyebrow as he wonders if she’ll even be able to get out of the yukata by herself.

“I mean for you to join me Naoya…” She hugs him, resting her head into his chest as she doesn’t want to let him go, doesn’t want him to leave. “I swear I’ll stop trying to seduce you!” She’s back to giggling as this predicament is so strange altogether. She’s technically his prisoner but you wouldn’t guess that by their mutual affections, they seem almost domestic. “Don’t you want me to wash you again?”

“Arghhh, yes…yes I do…” He takes a deep breath to strengthen his resolve as he then grabs her hand and leads her towards the tub to turn on the water. ‘I can do this…no problem…’ He reaches around her to undo the obi, fighting with the damn thing for a minute, even with his expertise. One article of clothing at a time she’s reaching her bare state again. She looks up to him with an attitude as he’s yet to undress himself in the slightest. “Yes ma’am” He cackles as he doffs his own clothes. He feels her eyes scanning his body and although he loves that she’s so drawn to him, he wishes that fate would be less cruel. He steps into the tub as it fills, and holds her hand so she can do the same with ease. It’s such a large one but they seem to have found a single spot that they utilize, it’s the same one from the first bath together. As he sits back completely and follows her with his eyes, she leans over him to reach the small towels behind him tickled by his clear frustration as her breasts range in his face.

She starts with the blood on his neck from where he pulled her away earlier. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling of his intended slowly wiping it away. He feels utterly relaxed as she kneels before him while the water fills their surrounding area. After she’s grazed almost the entirety his body with the towel, she goes to sit in his lap but in a curled-up manner that brings her head to his left shoulder and her knees near his right. His arms secure themselves around her and she begins to settle into him herself, also completely relaxed.

She wonders to herself how long this wonderful time with him will last. She’s tried not to think about the marriage part, she’s barely able to enjoy him without the guilt of knowing Toji and Satoru are probably worried sick. What would they think if they knew of how she spent her time there? She nuzzles into his chest deeper as she tries to forget the anxiety riddling her mind.

“Naoya…” she smiles into him as they soak in the filling tub.

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kurinhimenezu · 4 years

Text

===First Kiss===

~~~Shinso Hitoshi~~~

==KurinH==

The clock read 2.30am

You've been working non stop for almost 6 hours now. Your eye were dull; not really seeing anything as your fingers move on their own accord, mod plans already memorized in your head. A mis-clip of a wire sends the whole mod sparking uselessly in your hands.

You yelped in pain at the sting of the zap and with a cry of indignation; threw the whole thing in a pile of more broken mods. Ignoring the pain and the possible blisters, you slumped against the work bench in defeat. You spied your phone still on the last message your aunt has given you.

*You're still there at UA right? When are you going to make some money out of your tinkering toys?*

'They're not toys..they're support items for heroes!'

*I cannot believe you didn't end up in the hero course! That's where the money is really at*

'Heroes need support too auntie..'

*your mother should've know better..sending you to an expensive school with your weak quirk and you didn't even end up a hero! What a waste*

*Did you know that Inko's kid got into the hero course?? And HE'S QUIRKLESS*

You buried your face in your arms, eyes shut; refusing to let the tears fall. 'Why can't she let me be..? I don't even live with her anymore..I didn't even pay for this school..I got in on a support tech recommendation..!' You couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

'Still..is it true..is this all just a waste..?' The girl straightened her protective goggles and looked at all her pending blueprints..all the unfinished mods and WIP prints. 'My efforts..my ideas..' Then looked towards Mei's workbench and saw all her completed 'babies' as she called them.

'I..am..I..?'

"...(y/n)?"

You slowly turned your head at a wide eyed brainwasher. "Shinso..kun..? What..how did you even get in here? This mechanic room is for support students and their heroes-in-progress only.."

"I couldn't sleep and I got bored-hey..your hand.." Shinso strolled inside the workroom and frowned, seeing her red, blistering hands.

Pulling out a soothing salve from his pocket, he kneeled down before her and takes her hands in his before applying the cream; making sure to get every inch. You were too exhausted to even care how gentle he was being.

"How did you even know I'd get injured like this?"

Lavender eyes looked up at her briefly before giving the other a Cheshire grin. "Let's just say I've taken to carrying medical supplies whenever I'm around you and your crazy group of friends..I guess it got to the point that it became a habit to carry supplies around".

Closing the container, Shinso frowned, now noticing how her eyes lost their shine. Even when she's having an off day, her eyes were still expressive. It was the first thing he noticed the first time they met in middle school. She was never scared to talk to him, her eyes so open to everyone she talks to and now..now they look almost dead. It gave him chills.

"Did..something happen..?"

The girl sighed and took off her goggles. Fingers fumbling with the frames.

"Shinso..can you..brainwash me..?"

He froze at the request. He could never..not her..never to her.

You sensed his hesitation and grabbed at his wrists in desperation. "Please ! Just this once! I'm tired of feeling like I can never contribute to anything! Friends..family..academics..its never enough!"

You couldn't help the tears that flowed as you lowered your head. "Just this once..tell me to not feel like this..please.."

Shinso's heart shattered seeing her so broken like this. He wasn't a stranger to feeling like he wasn't enough. His childhood was more or less the epitome of the feeling. He bit his lip before eyeing the opened messages on the table.

The boy frowned, a sudden urge to protect coursed through him as he stood up and wrapped his arms around his girl. 'That hag...!' He tightened his grip around her, an arm around her shoulder and a hand at the back of her head. He knew how much she loves the feeling of getting petted.

"Brain washing is not the answer kitten..you know this.." he gave her a soft chuckle when she mumbled something about quirk evolution and memory alteration. How can she not see how smart she is? How her friends look up at her intellect? He even overheard the teachers praising how innovative her mods are for non-combative quirks! Shinso pulled back slightly, not letting her out of his embrace as he wiped her eyes.

"Don't you dare listen to that woman. You are smart enough to get in here..make amazing weapons and not even for physical quirks..Principal Nezu is eyeing you to even intern under him and you think your aunt knows what she's talking about?" Shinso snorted, making you let out a watery laugh.

He smiled softly and pulled her head back into him. Pressing his cheek against her temple. "You're amazing..more amazing than anyone I've ever known..you throw out ideas and theories like it's nothing..people would kill to have a brain and drive like yours..don't ever doubt yourself..and even if you do, know that I'm here..cheering you on and believing in our capabilities for the both of us"

You closed your eyes as he talked. You always did lovethe sound of his voice. Quiet and deep. So soothing. You're convinced that his relaxing voice is part of his quirk.

You can feel your despair ebb away at each word that comes out of his mouth. Letting out a long exhale, you buried your face against his body, finally relaxing. "Thank you..so much Hitoshi..you've.." you sucked your bottom lip in hesitation.

Shinso chuckled and tilted her chin up to look up at his face. "Anything for you..my kitty~"

Your face flushed red as you shut your eyes tight. He couldn't stop himself in time before leaning down and kissing her on the forehead.

You gasped, eyes popping open.

The boy pulled back slowly and cupped your cheeks; gently stroking your face. "Was that okay..?"

You smiled happily as you nodded your head. Shinso smiled back in relief and brought you into his arms again.

"..."

"Toshi..?"

"Yes kitten..?"

"You're my hero"

Hugging you tighter, his eyes watered as he smiled against your hair.

The clock read 3am.

Tags!

@thedreadthread @quirkless-fics @sadistiks @savnofilter @tooloudarts U3U

Message me if you want to be tagged ! ^3^ trying to get my writing out there ! A little self indulgent but-

#kurinwrites #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi #bnha imagines #bnha #shinso hitoshi imagines #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #bnha fic #boku no hero academia #reblogs are highly appreciated

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Text

Baptember Prompt: Talon HQ

“Evaluation”

-----

Baptiste’s eyes flicked around the luxurious office with wariness, taking in the smoke-damaged Kandinsky on the wall and the small Yoruba sculpture on a table in front of it--both likely salvage from the Omnic Crisis---the placement made it seem like the painting was a dream of the sculpture, a chaotic but appealing whirl of triangles, circles, and straight and curving lines. Maybe Baptiste was looking at the wall behind the desk because of who was sitting at the desk.

“Hm,” Doomfist was dressed in a lightweight olive blazer and white dress shirt. An orange and yellow aso oke scarf was tied at his neck in a casual ascot style. It looked like he had walked right out of a fashion magazine for a spread for ‘Fun and breezy executive casual looks,’ but Baptiste felt awkward in the gray cargo pants and fitted, high-necked black shirt of the Talon ground forces ‘casual’ uniform in the chair across from him.

“Is... there a reason you wished to see me, sir?” said Baptiste and Doomfist’s eyes flicked up to him from the tablet.

“I was just running over some testimonials again,” said Doomfist, setting the tablet down on his desk.

“Testimonials?” said Baptiste.

Doomfist interlaced the fingers of his massive hands in front of him on the desk and gave Baptiste a single nod, “They’re very impressive.”

“...thank you sir,” Baptiste chuckled a little, “I... wasn’t under the impression that I popped up on your radar.”

A warm chuckle rumbled in Doomfist’s chest. “Yes, given the way this world has treated you, I can understand how you expect people to disregard you. To underestimate you. But you have my word that I will show no such ignorance. You see, I care about this organization,” Doomfist’s smile was so dazzlingly white, that it nearly distracted from that discerning gleam in his eyes. Baptiste felt himself being read, anticipated even, “I care about its future,” said Doomfist, “And yours.”

“...my future?” said Baptiste, hesitantly.

“You see, Lieutenant Augustin, much of the world runs on algorithms. These algorithms can define your life, from where you’re born, to what job you might get, to whether you qualify for medical care, to whether you qualify for a job.”

“I’m aware,”said Baptiste. He could count on both hands how many times Sombra had launched into her “cradle-to-the-grave algorithm” rant with him.

“I’m not a particular fan of that,” said Doomfist, that slightly-faded smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some luddite or ‘human supremacy’ fiend--I recognize Omnics as a vital part of the populace,” he demonstrably held up his own prosthetic arm, “And I recognize technology’s place with humanity, but we had a chance to break free of these oppressive algorithms after the Crisis and instead... Overwatch simply let us slip back to a system that punches down. We prized normalcy over humanity. Over evolution.” He rested his elbow on his desk and his chin on his knuckles “But anyway, in Talon’s early days, in the days of my predecessor Akinjide Adeyemi, Talon more or less mimicked this structure, and when I replaced him--”

Killed him, thought Baptiste.

“I thought we needed to take a more... personal approach when it came to the careers of our more outstanding recruits.”

Baptiste blinked a few times. “...Outstanding?” he said.

“It’s not often someone joins our ranks having invented their own weapon,” said Doomfist.

“The biotic launcher isn’t 100% a weapon---” Baptiste started.

“I’m aware,” Doomfist returned, holding up his tablet, “Again, testimonials. Now, my question is, with your talents, why not apply for Talon’s engineering or R&D departments?”

“...I don’t have a formal education in the sciences,” said Baptiste, “And my medical education is largely limited to my Caribbean Coalition training. I read, certainly, and I tinker, but... that’s not the same.”

Doomfist leaned forward slightly. “I can assure you, you are more than qualified, and Talon would be happy to help fill in any gaps for you,” he said, smiling, “Look at Moira O’Deorain! Now that she’s not constrained by the formalities of academia, she is doing some of her best work with us. I would love to see what you create with the right resources made available to you.”

Baptiste had to suppress a shudder at the direct comparison between himself and Moira. He had seen her strolling around the facility, her little cult of labtechs close at her heels. Across the desk, Doomfist’s eyes were making Baptiste feel like every microscopic facial twitch of his was being picked apart and analyzed. But it didn’t have the cold distance of Moira’s glare---it felt closer, hotter, consuming rather than dissecting.

“You... want me to be a labtech,” said Baptiste hesitantly.

“Hardly,” Doomfist shook his head, “You see, O’Deorain works mostly in theory, you, however, are able to quickly take available technology and find its immediate application. You could be the perfect bridge between our R&D department and our combat division.”

You could make it faster and easier to weaponize O’Deorain’s ideas, thought Baptiste. He could feel his own fingers digging into his leg through his fatigues with the amount of control it took to keep his expression neutral.

“I’m,” Baptiste cleared his throat, “I’m more of a ‘boots on the ground’ guy.”

Doomfist gave him a studying look.

“You can do a lot better than pure mercenary work, Lieutenant Augustin,” said Doomfist, “And the benefits would be much higher, with much less risk to your person. It wouldn’t even be more demanding, time-wise, than your current schedule. You wouldn’t be as subject to the whims of Talon’s ‘boots on the ground’ missions. More freedom to conduct your own business.”

More money. Less travel. He could visit the clinic back in Port-Au-Paix more often. He could buy better equipment for the clinic. He could invent better equipment for the clinic. But then how much more would Talon know about it? How much more would Doomfist or Moira know about it? How much did they know already?

“I’ll...” Baptiste’s voice trailed off, “Need time to think about it.”

“Of course,” said Doomfist, leaning back in his seat easily, “Take all the time you need... to an extent. Remember: Talon believes in a world where men are not bound by their fear. Hesitate too long, and you might just get left behind. If you ever need to discuss your future, you know where to find me. Of course, we’ll be keeping an eye on you in the meantime,” He picked up his tablet. “That’s all for now. As you were.”

“Sir,” said Baptiste pushing up from the chair, saluting, and walking briskly out of the room.

He walked out of the office and made it a ways down the hall. An omnic assistant opened the elevator for him and he stepped in. As soon as the elevator doors closed on him, he slumped into a corner, bracing his hand against one of the wall rails of the elevator as he tried to get control of his breath. The elevator dinged as it reached the below-ground levels devoted to Talon’s armories and training facilities, and he still had his other hand clamped on his chest as the door opened to reveal Sombra and Mauga standing there, hunched around a cupcake filched from the mess hall. Sombra was sporting her heavily modified ‘tech specialist’ armor, her blood red pixie cut styled into a pompadour that day. Mauga, like Baptiste, was in the fitted black shirt and gray cargo pants of Talon’s casual fatigues, his wild mane of black hair with a white lightning streak tied half up in a white streaked bun with the rest of it cascading over his shoulders.

“Hey hey! There’s our favorite engineer!” said Mauga, clapping his hands.

“How’d it go?” said Sombra.

“How did what--” Baptiste started.

“The big boss calling you in!” said Mauga, “I mean, come on, you’ve been up for a promotion for weeks.” He clicked his tongue, “Gotta admit: I’m gonna miss you while you’re in the nerd squad.”

“Oh--I’m not... I didn’t...” Baptiste’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from him so much as he was trying to pluck them out of the air as they materialized.

“...didn’t what?” said Sombra, and a sharpness suddenly overtook her features, “You didn’t take it?!”

“I said I’d think about it!” Baptiste fumbled.

“Aw, is it ‘cuz you’d miss me?” said Mauga but both Sombra and Baptiste shot him ‘come on,’ looks.

“Look, it was just... a lot, okay? He--Doomfist--is a lot,” said Baptiste, “I didn’t slam the door on it! It’s just... a big change!”

“‘Big change’ he says!” said Mauga with a laugh, “Like we aren’t being uprooted every couple of weeks to fly off who-knows-where!” But Sombra apparently read Baptiste’s expression and elbowed Mauga. “What?” said Mauga, before looking at Baptiste. Those sharp bright eyes gave Baptiste a brief scan. It didn’t give Baptiste the same apprehension that Doomfist’s look gave him, he had spent too long fighting alongside Mauga for that. He knew him too well for that. But Mauga seemed to concede to Baptiste’s apparently shell-shocked expression and sighed. “Eh, cold feet,” he said with a dismissive hand wave, “Happens to everyone.”

“I guess this is a consolation cupcake now,” said Sombra, pushing the red velvet cupcake towards him.

“Yeah... and... he said they’ll be keeping an eye on me?” said Baptiste, taking the cupcake from her.

The look Sombra gave him then had a flash of warning to it. “I guess that’s still good... just remember: they remember the shots you don’t take just as much as the shots you do.”

“And you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take! That’s on my quote-a-day calendar,” said Mauga, trying to find the tone of conversation that Baptiste and Sombra were on, or at least trying to segue them hard back to his unstoppably jovial mood.

Baptiste picked one of the red sprinkles off of the cream cheese frosting of his cupcake, “I’ll uh... keep that in mind.”

Sombra and Mauga exchanged glances.

“Tell you what,” said Mauga, “How about we all change into civvies, grab a couple drinks, and talk about it.”

“...or we could change into civvies, grab a couple drinks and not talk about it,” said Sombra, giving Baptiste a wry smile.

“...Let’s get the first two parts out of the way and figure out the third part later,” said Baptiste with a huff.

“There, y’see? Thinks on his feet, this guy,” said Mauga, “Real promotion material--oof--” Sombra elbowed Mauga again.

“Meet back at the usual spot in 30?” said Baptiste.

Sombra and Mauga both gave him a nod before they headed off for the lockers, leaving Baptiste in the hallway with his lonely little cupcake. He picked off the wrapping from the side of the cupcake, thought of Doomfist’s smile, of that brief flash of everything he could have done to help the clinic if he had just taken up the offer, and he wondered how a job where everyone was telling you you were doing so well could make you feel so wrong.

#baptiste #doomfist #mauga #sombra #overwatch #Baptember2020

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snarkybluechristian · 3 years

Text

Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 45

Angel laid in his chair, staring at the ceiling while the monsters discussed their plans to torture him into being normal.

It made Angel sick to his stomach. His family never loved him for who he was, even after they had all died. It was their cold and abusive behavior that made him turn to burying himself in his mafia work, then to drugs, to sex, and eventually, to Valentino who made his life so much worse. The sins were his, but the self-hatred came from them. It was all their fault. It always was.

Now, their prejudice had enabled Alastor to do the same thing to Vaggie and Sir Pentious to Cherri.

It was the cycle of continual hatred like Charlie had talked about in one of their therapy sessions. First, you decide to hate a person and then you do everything to hurt them more and more and more until eventually you destroy them and everything they care about.

Their hatred hurt him and extended its reach to the people he loved the most just to hurt him even more. It was bullshit, and it had to end.

Angel closed his eyes in the first prayer he had said in decades and felt his resolve grow stronger.

His family wouldn’t win. They couldn’t. Angel wouldn’t let them or Alastor or Sir Pentious for that matter. Even if he got sent to Double Hell in the process, he wouldn’t.

Angel would beat them all. All he had to do was wait.

“I’ll come upstairs to join you for breakfast once I get Anthony fed and into his bath,” Dr. Red said, calling Angel back to reality.

“Good, we’ll see you then,” Henroin replied, walking up the stairs. “See ya later, Anthony.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you on Friday, little brother!” Arackniss called over to Angel from the bottom of the stairs. “Please be a good boy for the doctor while we’re gone.”

After that final plea, Arackniss followed his father up the stairs and left the basement, leaving Dr. Red alone with Angel.

Dr. Red stood over Angel’s chair and studied his face for a moment before adjusting the chair so that Angel was sitting up again.

Angel hardly lurched forward at the sudden movement since his restraints kept him so snugly in place. He bowed his head down to stare at the floor with the most pitiful expression he could as Dr. Red pulled out his bag of medical instruments and started rummaging through it.

Once he found what he was looking for, Dr. Red turned back to Angel.

Much to Angel’s surprise, Dr. Red placed a finger under his chin, moved his face so that the two of them were looking eye-to-eye, looked at him with a warm and comforting expression, and said, “Don’t look so hurt, my patient. I know this process hurts now, but as soon as it’s over, you will be normal and so much happier. I promise.”

Dr. Red wiped away a few tears and the corner of Angel’s eyes with his thumb before he let go of Angel’s head.

Angel continued staring at the ground, feeling completely confused and taken aback and trying his best to hide it on his face.

Without any warning, Dr. Red pulled out his stethoscope, reached the cold end inside the straitjacket to the skin beneath the fur on Angel’s chest, and said, “Take a deep breath, Anthony.”

Despite the uncomfortable sensation, Angel immediately obeyed, breathing as deeply as he could muster in his straitjacket.

“Good,” Dr. Red said moving the stethoscope down to Angel’s heart while looking down at his watch. “Just as I hoped. The electroshock therapy has calmed your breathing and your heart rate.”

Dr. Red stuffed the stethoscope down into his doctor’s bag, walked over to a cart with a covered plate in the kitchen area that Angel didn’t notice before, and said, “Now, Anthony, it’s time for your breakfast.”

Dr. Red uncovered the plate to reveal a steaming breakfast tray with eggs, ham, and toast cut into small pieces with butter and jam on the side and orange juice with a straw sticking out.

“Let’s get some food in your stomach and we’ll get you ready to take your medicine,” Dr. Red said, spraying sanitizer into his hands before cutting up Angel’s food with the fork and knife on the side.

The gargoyle demon picked up a piece of ham with the fork and offered the food to Angel.

Dr. Red held the fork in front of Angel’s mouth and cooed, “Here comes the airplane coming into the hangar now. Easy does it…”

Angel opened his mouth and bit the ham off the fork, swallowing all his pride with the food in his mouth.

“Alrighty then,” Dr. Red said, putting down the fork to jot down some notes on his notepad. “Subject now seems to be obedient.”

Dr. Red quickly rubbed some sanitizer on his hands before he returned to feeding Angel and said, “I’m so glad to see that you’re now obeying me, Anthony.”

Angel didn’t respond, except to sit back comfortably in his chair and open his mouth so that Dr. Red could continue to feed him like a baby.

Dr. Red picked up another fork full of food, fed Angel, and said, “You don’t know how happy you’ll be when you’re straight. I know the treatment feels harsh now, but you’ll thank me for it later. At least, I hope you will. None of my other patients ever thanked me when I was alive…”

Without changing his facial expression in the slightest, Angel chewed his food while Doctor Red prepared the next bite and continued, “…You see, I was part of the Eugenics Movement at the turn of the last century, a movement dedicated to improving the genetic quality of the human population through selective breeding and the sterilization and suppression of the inferior and unfit. One way I helped keep the fit, superior members of the white middle- and upper-class strong was by helping parents whip their wayward sons and daughters into shape whenever they were more interested in pursuing their lusts than in doing their duty of increasing the white superior stock with advantageous marriages, if you know what I mean…”

It was all Angel could do to hold his tongue. As he received the next bites of food, he chewed his food into mush without swallowing just to keep himself from saying anything.

“…I kept these rebellious children from eloping, from committing miscegenation, and of course, from engaging in sexually deviant relationships, like you. I did such a good job with them. They married advantageously and produced genetically superior children. But none of them ever thanked me. I can’t figure out why…Anthony, you need to swallow your breakfast or you’re going to choke on it.”

Angel reluctantly swallowed and bit his lip while Dr. Red picked up his knife and spread jelly and butter on the pieces of toast. If it weren’t for his restraints, Angel would have been fidgeting uncomfortably.

Completely oblivious to the discomfort Angel was feeling, Dr. Red continued, “Anyways, I don’t know why none of my patients ever thanked me. I mean, most of them didn’t want to be there. Sure. Others tried to fight me and had to be given medicine and special treatments like you. But still others seemed willing and left happy. I don’t know why they didn’t thank me. Those ingrates! Some of them even committed suicide!”

Angel couldn’t take it much longer. Thankfully, Dr. Red fed him pieces of toast before and after he continued speaking.

“I don’t understand why God sent me here either,” Dr. Red said, gently feeding Angel a piece of jelly toast. “I directed human evolution in a positive direction for him. I did so much to improve the white race and the black race when they gave us the opportunity to improve them. I helped people defy their base desires for the greater good of reproducing a superior stock! Surely, that’s a noble cause that heaven must recognize!”

Angel finished eating his toast and Dr. Red placed a straw in a glass of orange juice and offered it to him.

“What an ungrateful bastard he must be to deny that!” Dr. Red raved while Angel managed to get the straw in his mouth. “If it weren’t for the Eugenics Movement, there would be even more burdens than there are now. It’s not our fault that Adolf Hitler decided to go as far as he did…Wait, Anthony.”

Dr. Red pulled the straw away just as Angel was about to take his first sip and said, “I almost forgot. I need to give you your medicine. Hold on a moment.”

Dr. Red took out a white prescription bottle and took out a red-colored pill that looked like no pill that even Angel had ever tried before.

He eyed it nervously while Dr. Red took it in his fingers and said, “Open wide, Anthony, and don’t worry. This pill will help you feel better. I know. I made it myself.”

That hardly reassured Angel. Despite his usual penchant for drugs, he didn’t want this one. Even if it did what the good doctor said, Angel knew there was more to it than what he said there was. It was meant to keep him under their control, just like Val kept him under his…

“Anthony, you don’t need to be nervous,” Dr. Red said, interrupting Angel’s thoughts. “Open up…Oh.”

Angel opened his mouth wide and allowed the doctor to drop the pill in his mouth.

“Good boy,” Dr. Red praised while offering Angel his orange juice again. “Now, drink this and wash down your pill so we can get you into your bath.”

Angel obediently sipped his orange juice through the straw until it was all gone.

When he finished the drink, Dr. Red put the cup back on the tray, petted Angel’s head, and praised, “What a good boy! You’re behaving very well.”

Dr. Red then picked a napkin off the cart and wiped the crumbs and juice off Angel’s face.

Once he was done, Dr. Red took the tray to the sink. While he wasn’t looking, Angel opened his mouth, lowered his tongue with the pill wrapped around in it, dropped the pill, and let it fall onto the floor.

Angel smiled to himself. That was a trick he had learned long ago when dealing with Val. It was one of the few tricks he rarely caught on to.

“Alright, Anthony,” Dr. Red said as he finally made his way back to the chair and started unbuckling Angel’s restraints. “It’s time for your bath. For now, your baths will be lukewarm to hold down your urges until you are strong enough to resist temptation and expose yourself to hot water again.”

Angel nodded silently and sat patiently while Dr. Red unbuckled the last of the restraints.

Dr. Red then helped Angel to his feet, put a hand behind his back, and guided him gently to the bathroom.

The bathroom was a plain one with white tile and a white toilet on one side, a sink, and a shower with a tub to match on the other side of the room. There was no color to be found except for the soap bottles on the shelf beside the tub. Even the towel hanging on the rack below the shelf between the wall and the door and the mats on the floor were white.

Dr. Red turned the faucets on and put in the stopper. The lukewarm water began filling up the tub while Angel watched patiently, resisting every urge to kick Dr. Red into the tub himself.

Dr. Red turned to Angel, requested for him to turn around, and finally undid the straps of his straitjacket.

“There, we go,” Dr. Red said with a warm smile as he pulled the jacket off and carried it out of the room.

Angel moved his arms around in relief at finally being able to use them again. He retracted his third pair of arms and stretched his two other pairs of arms around to get the blood flowing.

Angel turned and looked at himself in the mirror. The white shirt and black pants Alastor put on him the other day were still there looking slovenly yet classy, too classy for his taste. As soon as he got the feeling back in his arms, Angel began unbuttoning the shirt to let his fluffy chest breathe.

Unfortunately, before he could get too comfortable, Dr. Red walked in and coughed to get his attention.

“Anthony, you should wait for me to leave before you start undressing,” Dr. Red reprimanded.

Angel looked at himself in the mirror, summoned the most defeated look he could muster, turned around to face the good doctor, and said, “I’m sorry, doctor.”

Dr. Red’s disappointed look slid back into a warm smile and he said, “All is forgiven, Anthony. Now take a look at your new clothes.”

Angel looked down and tried not to grimace at the clothing in Dr. Red’s arms. It was the gray uniform that Vaggie described.

It was a gray long-sleeved t-shirt, long gray slacks, a white undershirt, a gray pair of underwear, and a gray pair of flats to cover his feet. By anyone’s standards, the clothes were atrociously dull.

“Do you like your new clothes?” Dr. Red asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, they’re just fine, Doctor,” Angel replied shyly as he held his arms open to take the clothes.

“Excellent,” Dr. Red said, dropping the clothes into Angel’s arms. “You have seven other uniforms just like this one in case this one gets dirty. I’ll wash them weekly to make sure you always have a clean outfit to wear.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Angel replied.

Dr. Red smiled and walked past him to turn off the water in the tub.

“You may take your bath now, Anthony,” Dr. Red said, reaching outside the room and placing a white basket in between the door and the tub. “I shall go upstairs to eat breakfast with your father and brother. Then, I’ll come back here and clean up your kitchenette. Please do remember. Turning on hot water is not allowed yet, so don’t turn it on.”

“Yes, doctor,” Angel said submissively.

“As for the clothes you’re wearing now, please put them into basket you see there,” Dr. Red said, gesturing with one hand while holding the other hand behind his back.

“Yes, doctor,” Angel replied. “Is there anything else?”

In one swift movement, Angel felt the gargoyle doctor’s stone arms wrap around his chest and hold him close. Dr. Red’s lips curled into a smile as he shut his eyes and leaned against Angel.

If Dr. Red could see Angel’s expression, he would have seen his face contort in confusion at the sudden mood swing. And Angel thought Val had wild mood swings…

“I’m so happy to be working with you, Angel,” Dr. Red whispered. “I know this is hard, but I’ll get you through it. I promise.”

Angel’s mouth fell open in absolute bewilderment and his eyes stared down at the doctor holding him for an uncomfortably long time.

They stood there like that for over a minute with Angel at a complete loss for how to react. He literally felt like he was embracing a statue and he might as well have been. The stony body was hard, cold, and confining.

Angel looked down at Dr. Red’s face and grimaced. The doctor’s expression was a genuinely warm and comforting smile that he found more unnerving than comforting.

Angel kept his form rigid transferring the clothes he was wearing to his lowest pair of arms to make his position more comfortable. Apparently taking that as a sign that he wanted to be comforted even more, Dr. Red moved even closer and held Angel more tightly for yet another long, uncomfortable minute.

So, Angel stood still, not knowing whether this was a test or an honest-to-God attempt to show compassion.

Finally, Dr. Red let go and said enthusiastically, “Enjoy your bath, Anthony. I must go meet with your father without any further delay to discuss your treatment plan.”

Without another word, Dr. Red left the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Angel stood there completely dumbfounded until he heard Doctor Red climb up to the top of the stairs and lock the basement door behind him.

When he was sure Doctor Red was gone, Angel stepped back until he reached the toilet and sat down. He sighed deeply for a moment before setting his new clothes down, undressing, and climbing into his lukewarm bath.

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhotel angeldust

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird, “Grooming and Dominance”

This week I am going to ask you guys for some more ideas. I know I haven't done this in a while, but I want to write more of what you guys want to read. So if you have a favorite topic and style in which you prefer it written, just tell me and I’ll see what I can do :)

The cameras viewfinder is clouded by dark grey steel, the tiny grains that run through the metal slowly inch past as the camera wobbles sideways and into a better position. A sliver of light appears, and then the camera focuses in on an image. Half of the camera’s view is still obstructed by the corner, but the other half can see. Around the door frame, through the room, and into another door, the camera watches.

“Today I will be talking all about human grooming rituals. Primarily used as a status symbol for social hierarchy and to attract a mate, humans are known to be the only species that choose a mate based on these grooming standards rather than the physical health of the prospective mate in question.” The camera zooms in a little further focusing on the tall powerful back of a human. In the glittering ambient light of the room, the muscles on its bare back churn and roll as taut cords below the skin, the same muscles that allowed the human to stand as a bipedal. Though the human’s head is turned away, its face was reflects back into the light of the camera. As the camera zooms in, the human tilts its large head to the side using one large paw to, with surprising delicacy, drag a strange device down the side of its face cutting a trail of bare skin through the strange foamy substance.

“For those of you who don’t know,” Comes the whispered voice, “This is Vir, my favorite human, he is male and current alpha of this human pack. Now, as I can attest as the human’s medical officer, he is in top physical health for a human male, and well within perfect mating age. Current human mating viability lasts anywhere from age 11 to 50, of course human pack practices generally tend to forbid mating below the age of 18. When I say viability, I mean only the ability to bare offspring, and not the morality of doing so.” The human runs the strange device down the side of his face again, “By all accounts this particular human would be a perfect genetic candidate to pass on offspring, however, as far as I am aware, he has never participated in ANY mating related rituals known to humans.” The camera leans out a little further form the wall, “This confuses me, and I am beginning to wonder if there aren’t other extraneous factors that have caused this.” He sneaks a little closer, and the human seems to remain unaware of his presence, “This particular grooming practice is an interesting one. Male and female humans can generally be identified by their ability to grow hair on their faces, the human male can and the human female cannot. Now in certain instances, human males use this facial hair as a dominance symbol to other males, a similarity you might find with wild Glorg Beasts and their horns. The larger the “beard” as one might call it the more masculine the human.”

The human lifts his chin and drags the object down his neck, “However, this is not always the case. In fact many high status human males do not use beards to signify their masculinity. Generally in absence of a beard you may find a male using his social status, or his nest and territory as a symbol of masculinity. This human has social status to show his dominance and so removes the beard to maintain the visual. He will operate in this practice every day to fill the correct part.” The human finishes leaning down to the basin of water to cup a glittering pool within his large claw-tipped hands, “Many human males and females, including this one participate in hunting practices to strengthen their body. Very few humans are able to maintain this particular pattern of musculature.” The human turns around shaking water from his face droplets breaking to fall in all directions. His sides rise and fall with the powerful pull of the massive bellows supplying oxygen to his blood. The camera focuses on this movement, as the humans head swivels on a thick muscular neck above a wide chest. The sheer power of the human made his body appear bulging and thick compared too many other species.

As he turns his eyes fall on Krill immediately locking into place like a precision targeting system. The body immediately tenses and the head lowers chin covering the soft neck. The human’s hypermobile face twists, and the line of hair above its single eye raises. The strange growling and grumbling begins as the human stalks closer.

“You will be aware by now that the human is attempting to dominate me for moving in on his territory. You see I am violating normal human practices, and now he must let me know of that. See how he stands a little taller, stretches out his muscles, human males present like this often especially when shirtless. It is a very primitive domination technique that humans often don’t realize they are doing.”

The human pauses noticeably slouching. He chirps something at the camera.

“See I have successfully out dominated him in his territory. Sometimes when a human is more physically imposing than you, it is often prudent to outsmart them. Confusing them will give you the upper hand.”

As he speaks the humans eyes widen a little, the line of hair above the eye rises higher. The head tilts slowly to the side then froze before suddenly lunging towards the camera. The image rattles violently from side to side spinning and tilting until the camera turns to view the original narrator. The small figure is well below the human’s eye-line and scuttles after swiping for the camera it cannot reach.

The strange human barking begins in earnest zooming in on the Dr. as it backs away.

The Dr. swipes for the camera, “Of course now he knows that, he is INTENT on proving his dominance over me. Human males LOVE to use their height as a source of dominance to shorter species, and also shorter humans, just watch. If you ever see a human with an object over their head trying to keep it out of reach from other humans, you know what they are doing it for. It is very much a dominance tactic.”

***

The screen slowly winks on from blackness and The Dr.’s face can be seen. His voice is very low, “I have spent much of my time around the male of the human species, but now that I am working with Dr. Katie on a regular basis, I have found that female human grooming rituals can be FAR more extensive.” He turns the camera around and movies quietly into the medical bay. The room is empty, but a sound can be heard just barely through the speakers. It is mesmerizing absolutely hypnotic in nature, like a thousand Windwisps in unison. The sound rises and then falls and then spins tracing patterns through sound, “Can you hear her? Both male and female humans are capable of producing these sounds, however I find the female humans to be most pleasant since their vocal range spends more time within our appropriate range of hearing.”

He turns the corner slowly zooming in on the female human. It’s honestly quite difficult to tell the difference between the male and the female. She is a tad smaller and slimmer than her male counterpart, but her body still churns with powerful human muscles emphasizing her powerful graceful movement as she sways back and forth in time with her own haunting voice. Her long dark fur waves around her shoulders, and the light that plays over it. “The human female can spend anywhere from no time to almost two hours preening themselves. The female dominance structure is not so dissimilar to males. They use body strength and social status to get where they want to be, but often human females compete by way of competitive face painting. First, like the male, the female will attempt to whiten their teeth. They do this at least twice a day with flavored paste doused in chemicals, healthy straight teeth indicate both genetic health and physical wealth. After than she will attempt to make her skin look clearer, also an indication of physical health.” He zooms in on the human as she shimmies back and forth in some strange hypnotic dance. In one hand she is holding a strange cylindrical object using it as a microphone as she makes her strange and beautiful singing noises, “The primitive human brain recognizes facial gender based on tonal theory, and can you really blame them as if human males and females weren’t already impossible to tell apart. The male tends to have a single-tone face with the lips and the eyes appearing the same shade as the surrounding skin. Human females on the other hand have slightly darkened lips and surrounding eyes she will darken both her lips and her eyes in order to heighten these features all by using strange pastes and sticks.”

The human female opens her mouth wide after pressing her lips together showing a line of sharp white teeth glistening with moisture.

“Both male and female humans use their head-fur for attraction purposes some wear it short and others wear it long. Human hair is also an indication of physical health, which is why many female humans groom it so religiously and so regularly. Humans tend to prefer soft, shiny hair when it is long. She will attempt to use that heated rod to curl the strands making the hair look bigger. The more pretty fur you have, the better.” He steps a bit closer, “The most important part for a human female? The eyes. There are theories out there that the human eye is a window to what is known as the soul. Now, personally I think the theory is a whole load of waffle. But some say that the human, as we understand it, is only the pupae form of a human, and that the more powerful essence of a human resides inside like a cocoon. When the human ‘dies’ it is not actually death but some sort of evolution to the next stage of life. Some say that human highlight the eyes because it is the only place where you can see this powerful being hidden.” He snorts and begins to laugh, “Of course that is a complete load of it.” More chuckling, “Humans don’t just wait for this fur to grow. If they want longer fur, they will actually attach fake or donated fur to their own. In fact, there is a market out there simply for fur where humans cell and buy it. The claws of the hands are also points of notice. Both human females and males have each of their claws manicured to a specific size and shape, and will often put clear or colored gels on top to preserve the claw and make them stand out.”

He steps even closer, but as he does, the camera shakes suddenly. Something clatters to the floor with a loud bang. The human is on its feet immediately spinning in a tight circle so fast it is almost hard to catch. Her large, dark eyes are narrowed, her chin is lowered. Her entire body is taught muscle ready to pounce one foot one way and one foot another. In one hand she brandishes the hot cylinder. Her teeth are barred.

However, when she sees rill her body relaxes and she tilts her head to the side in that strange way that humans have. She shows her teeth again and chirps something.

“See, the human female is much less territorial than the male. If the lips are pulled back and the head is lowered, showing the teeth is not good, like you saw at first, but with wide eyes and a lifted chin it is a good thing. This particular human is a healthy female specimen 32 years old 128 pounds, almost sixty pounds less than the male.” The humans head tilts even further and she hoots at him from where she stands.

“She is very curious, just like the alpha, but since we share this space, she is likely to be much less territorial.” The human moves forward setting her object down at the table as she does. Her eyes are wide and curious as she approaches the camera. The noises she makes are higher than the male human’s but in the same general cadence.

“Let’s see what she does.”

A deeper grumble emanates from behind the camera, and the Dr. Turns to find the alpha standing in the doorway, “The alpha is here likely to make sure I am staying in my place like I should in the human pack. If I cause trouble it is his job to appropriately discipline me.” The human walks around in a wide circle coming to stand next to the female human.

He chirps something at her and she responds back. “Look at how the humans never stand facing each other directly. Directly facing another human is an invitation to fight or a challenge, they always stand at a 45 degree angle from each other.” The humans glance down at their feet. “See how he has stopped trying to dominate me now that he is in my territory. You will also notice that, even though he is the alpha he will not try to dominate her. Generally he only tends to do that to his subordinates if they are doing something wrong. He is also not a particularly dominating human.”

The two humans glance at each other communicating with their strange body movements. He tilts his chin in Krill’s direction, and she raises her head in acknowledgement.

“See the bodily communication they are using, they are trying to communicate without letting me know what they are planning. “ The female human began to move forward. The Dr. Backs away.

His camera is once again taken from him, and the humans park themselves on one of the medical benches camera pointing at Krill as they chirp back and forth animatedly.

Krill sighs as they continue to chirp, “Getting two sociable humans together often results in this playful behavior. But I probably won’t get my camera back for a while.”

Unadded Translation

Is this your new hobby now, Krill spying on people when they’re half naked?

What? No, I wasn’t trying to dominate you. Where the hell did that come from?

This big ugly insect is Krill, you probably think he’s being clever, but he’s really just being a massive ass. I have recently become aware that assery isn’t the natural state of their species.

Krill what are you doing here. Are you filming me?

Talking about my weight now are we?

There you are Krill, I’ve been looking for you.

Morning Dr. Katie, he isn’t bothering you is he?

No, not really but he is being sort of silly. Talking about us like we’re animals at the zoo

Hello this is Commander Vir and Dr. Katie, bringing you live footage of a Vrul in its natural habitat. See how it scuttles across the floor like that raising its arms, that’s the universal signal for. I am small short and weak and I can’t get my camera back on my own without help. The Vrul are supposed to be very smart, but we are pretty sure this one comes damaged. Very terrible brain trauma at birth, quite crazy.

If you are looking for more stories in this sort of style, I have one right here for you :)

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/184927962095/humans-are-space-orcs-my-humans

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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mycroftrh · 5 years

Text

you are not disgusting.

(Warning for discussion of verbal/emotional abuse, transphobia, fatphobia, homophobia.)

My mother’s four favorite words for me were evil, vile, disgusting, and bitch, and the one of those that she saw as worst was disgusting. She thought I was physically disgusting, that my thoughts were disgusting, that my actions were disgusting.

When I started to realise I wasn’t straight, I realised that all those people saying “I’m okay with gay people, but gay sex is disgusting” were talking about me.

When I was just beginning to transition, and all I’d done was cut my hair and stop shaving, my grandmother told me I - my legs, my arms - were disgusting. All I’d done was not shave for a couple weeks, I’d barely started to transition, and already, it made me disgusting.

I saw more things about trans people in media, news, online, and saw how many people thought we were all disgusting; sexual perverts, many of them thought, but even “allies” were talking about our bodies, thought they were disgusting.

I knew by that time that I had unusual sexual tastes, and I knew how many people thought that was disgusting.

I finally started on testosterone, and on some other medication, and got fat, because meds can do that - and wow, it’s amazing how completely normal it is to think fat people are disgusting, to portray us with “disgusting” traits emphasized (with food all over our bodies, farting and belching).

On testosterone I grew weird facial hair - my body went until I was 23 before it started getting the proper amount of hormones; it was confused. Hair started coming in under my chin, on my neck only. I didn’t shave it because it’s a lot harder for people to read you as female if you have facial hair, even if it’s not on your actual face. And I saw all these cartoons and memes and jokes (and genuine, sincere hate) about “neckbeards”, people who were both physically and morally disgusting, and their facial hair - the hair that I had (have) - was so tied into that disgust they were named after it.

This is by no means all of this I have experienced. I’m not even getting into severe mental illness and how people react to some of its symptoms, or into other disabilities, or into being intersex.

I’ve been told I’m disgusting my whole life. By family, by the news, by fiction, by liberals and conservatives, by cis people and trans people, by gay people and straight people. There are so many ways to be disgusting that I don’t think anyone in the world isn’t “disgusting” to someone.

But I’m here to tell you:

you are not disgusting.

For who you love, who you are, how you look. You’re not disgusting for being fat, or being queer, or being trans, or being not white. You’re not disgusting for your body and you’re not disgusting for your mind. The thoughts that you think are revolting? People have those thoughts and it’s okay. Your scars and your rolls and your skin? There’s nothing wrong with them. Disgust is a human reaction, it’s hard-wired in, and without the disease and rotten food that’s meant to set it off it’s going off all over other humans. But that says nothing about you. I’m not going to tell you that “you’re beautiful inside and out” because you know what? You don’t have to be. It’s okay not to be beautiful, and that doesn’t make you disgusting.

(Incidentally, here is an interesting article about the evolution of disgust, including a paragraph about how disgust is often used as a social tool against those lowest in the hierarchy.)

#misc #mine

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cowandcalf · 5 years

Text

About McDanno - what’s new

My day started with a text I received from a friend, who’s dying to talk about the new episode. So, when I’ve watched it I should let them know because - urgent. I got already nervous about H50 9.15.

I watched it and I normally don’t ponder for too long. There is always this instant instinct, hitting me with the right notion. So, I sat down and wrote my post about Danny and Rachel.

I need to lay my soul bare for a moment here. Today I’ve discussed Danny and Rachel, Danny and Steve and I can’t stop thinking about certain points and topics that I touched during my discussion with other shippers and friends. It’s about Steve and Danny, the past and the future in H50 and maybe this is just a summary of my racing thoughts with not much sense in it. But I have to get it out of my head.

It’s especially about the development of the show. What was then and what do we have now. Past and future. I read so often how much everyone misses the good old days. And let me tell you something, I miss them, too because the good old days are always better. Everything was new and unknown and not worn, or well fitting, or we weren’t used to it. We’re nine years later and evolution and change can’t be held off.

Okay, here we go.

Do I miss the old days from season1 to season 4? Yes, I do. I rewatch all seasons, currently occupied with season 2 and I’m excited and pumped with adrenaline. I’m full to the brim with this spirit, this intensity that the guys create in my heart whenever I see them on screen.

Yes, it was an awesome time when Wo Fat was a long plotline, when cliffhangers were so effing good, that my heart stopped in the middle of trying to jump out of my chest.

Yes, I miss the seasons where a plot lasted not only for one or two episodes but for a whole freaking season.

Yes, I miss the way Steve and Danny were glued together. I miss how their friendship and their love was in the making, building, forming, getting a solid shape.

Yes, I even miss the drama and the revelation about Catherine, about Doris. All the shit that went down with Danny and his women.

I miss Chin and Kono and this undestroyable ohana feeling. I miss that so fucking much.

I miss, that they were so young, everything seemed possible and reachable.

I miss knowing that there was this knowledge in my heart that Steve and Danny would never grow older, would never change.

I miss the beginning because I knew there could be years to come!

And here we are and everything has changed and I hate it sometimes. I feel bereft and I want all the old, great days back and I don’t want to deal with ‘now’. But that’s not possible.

Steve and Danny are tired. They work in the line of duty for years now. Danny soon has filled his twenty years. They have been through so much, emotionally and physically.

The restaurant plot was good because it was a project where Steve and Danny were involved, again glued together with the same goal. This is no more. They realized what a toll it took on them. They realized that the only aim they have is to be a member of Five-0, working cases.

Steve is sick. He takes medication on a daily bases. He has to, with radiation sickness and a transplanted liver he doesn’t go without meds. He feels this change and as I see it, his way to delegate, to pass work on and to pass on responsibility has to do with his sickness. He never would admit it, but his strength fades. He’s still super fit, but physically not in peak condition. This boat has sailed and this right here...this makes me sad and angry and pisses me off because it tells me time passes.

Danny has thought about retirement already in season 7. He has had his wild days, his determination, his passion for his work. He’s not young and hungry anymore. Other priorities count and take over first place. Police work ruins your health and if Danny wants to get older with decent health, just like Steve, he has to reduce the workload.

Steve and Danny love each other. Their friendship and relationship are rock solid. They don’t need to work on that. It is! They always have each other’s back, they don’t have to prove that always. They can take it easier.

This means I don’t see them so often together as I wish I’d see them. They prioritize each other always but it also means that they’re off to do other things without the other. When it really counts, like in 9.11, Danny always backs Steve up and he’s always right by Steve’s side.

Season 9 is a season with different rules. Each episode is a closed case, a closed story and there isn’t a plot line arching over the whole season. Different times, different rules.

I love the show with my whole heart. It’s my happy place, no matter what. New team members are there, they are young and eager and Danny and Steve are ready to step back a little. It happens even if I don’t agree.

I always will see McDanno in every episode. I hate to know that the guys getting older, changing, having different goals.

I hate to know the spirit from the beginning is gone to never return because of the simple reason that time passes. It’s nine years later. Nothing ever stays the same.

I keep up, I stay with them - and I accept the changes.

That’s the reason why I deal with every episode the way I deal with. My glass is always half-full and there will always and forever be McDanno moments because their love is real to me.

Shit happens, that’s life. So Danny and Rachel? That’s shit but I can deal with it.

But at the end of the day, I long for the old days and I accept this hurt and this loss and I try to cope with the new days.

End of message - Roger and out.

Jesus, I’m seriously so churned up and it feels as if I have some heartache because my guys grow older and everything changes and it sucks.

#cowandcalf rambles #mcdanno #my thoughts #when time changes #i don't like it #i always want the beginning back #it was so thrilling #but that's life #let's deal with it #fangirl thoughts

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irelise · 5 years

Text

the yew tree 1.2/?

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

start reading here!)

Warnings for this part: past suicide Rating: M Word count: 2189

Sebastian had prepared tea for them today; most generous. He balances the cup on his saucer, breathing in the smoky scent as he watches Sebastian move around the room.

“And how have things been progressing on your end? Any complications?” Sebastian asks.

“Not as such, but I admit he is different from what I was expecting.”

“Oh? I’ve always thought he was simple. No depth to him at all. It’s why I chose him for this plan.”

His skin itches. “Do try not to ruin everything with your overconfidence.”

Sebastian laughs. It’s an unpleasant sound, far too smug by half. “You worry too much.” He picks up a book. “Ready to move onto the next phase?”

***

Erik knocks on the door, a stack of books balanced precariously in his arms. “In the study,” Xavier calls, and Erik lets himself in.

Xavier is at his desk, the gas lamp bathing his face in a warm glow. “Erik! How did your errand for Dr. Schmidt go?”

“He wanted you to have these.” Erik sets the books on the desk and steps back. Xavier picks up one immediately, flicking it open.

“Oh, this is wonderful. Come see, Erik.”

Obligingly, Erik steps closer again, peering at the pages. The paper is of fine quality, the print crisp and clear, but the text itself is too technical for him to grasp without further study.

“Dr. Schmidt has kindly agreed to tutor me in the medical sciences,” Xavier says, sounding delighted. “He said he would lend me a few books from his personal collection; this must be it.”

Erik shakes his head. “No, these are for you to keep. A gift, he said.”

“Truly?”

And here’s an opportunity to slip in another sly comment about Shaw’s high regard for Xavier, but there’s a bad taste in Erik’s mouth as he says, “He’s told me that you’re one of the cleverest people he’s ever met, and he would be honoured to help you achieve your potential.”

A charming dusting of pink settles over Xavier’s cheeks and he absently flips to another page. “It’s very kind of him to say. Going to university has always been one of my dearest ambitions, but my health makes it impossible, and my uncle has been reluctant to hire more tutors for me when it’s unlikely I’ll be able to put their knowledge to any practical use. Have you had much formal schooling, Erik?”

“No.”

“But you’re literate?”

“Yes, Dr. Schmidt taught me my letters and numbers. Basic sciences. Enough to get by.”

Xavier toys absently with his book, tongue darting out to run against his upper lip. “Would you – that is, only if you want to, would you like to join me in the evenings when I study? I’m sure you’ve noticed already –” Xavier glances at the bookshelves around them “– evolution and genetics are my preferred fields, but I have plenty of old textbooks lying around on all manner of subjects. I’m sure we can find something to your interest.”

Erik is no academic. He values knowledge only for its practical use, but something in him stirs at the thought of learning about mutation – his heritage – even if it’s from a human.

There’s just one thing holding him back. “…What do you want from me?”

“I’m sorry?”

He knows he shouldn’t be questioning Xavier like this, but he can’t stop worrying at the question like a hound on the scent. “Men like you, men of your station, they don’t just offer things. So tell me, what do you really want?”

That unreadable look comes over Xavier’s eyes again. “Oh, my friend. You’re so quick to believe the worst in people.”

My friend? Erik bristles defensively at the appellation. “I have my reasons.”

“I know,” Xavier says simply. “And I’m sure they’re good reasons. Better safe than sorry, yes?

“Exactly.” He isn’t going to let Xavier off the hook. Erik looks at him, angling his chin up in challenge. “Well?”

Xavier’s mouth quirks, giving him a rueful look. “Would you believe it if I said I’m lonely?”

And there it is again – Xavier’s damnable openness about his own weakness. A familiar spark of anger flares up in Erik’s chest. “So, what, am I going to be your charity case? Are you going to pretend I’m your equal? Your friend? I can’t be your equal and your servant at the same time, my lord, that’s not the way things work.”

Xavier looks surprised, and then delighted, the madman. Erik scowls. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He smiles. “Thank you for your honesty, Erik. So, is that a yes to evening lessons?”

“Did you hear a single word I said?”

Xavier laughs, rising to his feet. “Come, let’s see if we can find a good textbook for you to start with.”

***

They develop a routine after that. Every evening, after Erik retrieves Xavier from his sessions with Shaw, he helps Xavier bathe and brings him dinner (Xavier must have an enormous lunch with his uncle, because his dinners are as frugal as his breakfasts), then the two of them retreat to the study, sitting side by side either on the armchairs or at the desk, depending on what strikes Xavier’s fancy that particular night. Often, Xavier reads aloud to him – and all that poetry reading must be good training, because Xavier is an engaging speaker, with just the right balance of liveliness and seriousness. His enunciation is perfect, and Erik admits (very privately) that his accent has a certain charm.

Tonight, Xavier reads from a book on the origins of humankind: “As we peer back through the fossil record,” he recites, “through layer upon layer of long-extinct species, many of which thrived far longer than the human species is ever likely to do, we are reminded of our mortality as a species.”

Xavier pauses, and Erik watches the back-and-forth dart of Xavier’s eyes as he scans the page before continuing.

“There is no law that declares the human animal to be different, as seen in this broad biological perspective, from any other animal.” And with an air of finality, Xavier concludes: “There is no law that declares the human species to be immortal.”

Erik scoffs, rearranging his long legs into a more comfortable position. “Leakey must be delusional if he seriously believes that humans will quietly lie down and accept their own extinction.”

Xavier looks up at him. The gas lamp casts soft shadows, smoothing the angles of his face. He looks impossibly young. “Really? Personally, I find it quite comforting to know I’m part of something bigger.”

Scowling, Erik waits for Xavier to start preaching we’re all part of a bigger, unseen plan; we should strive to live humbly and obediently, but Xavier only says: “Even if I were to die tomorrow, nothing about the world will change. The Earth will continue with or without me – just as it will continue even after the last human is gone.” His gaze flicks past Erik, to the window, and he smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry, my friend, I don’t think I’m explaining this very well.”

“You’re not,” Erik grumbles. “The way you talk, it sounds like you think nothing lasts.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I don’t. I’ve seen too many people hide behind that sort of philosophy as an excuse to do nothing.”

Xavier looks delighted. “Why, Erik, are you calling me lazy?”

Mad, he’s absolutely mad. “You’re free to interpret it however you want,” Erik shoots back, wondering why he isn’t more annoyed at Xavier. “All I’m saying is – you’re bright. You’ve got the money and the connections. If you wanted to, you could make a lasting difference.”

“A difference to what?” Xavier is looking out the window again.

Mutants, Erik thinks. He follows Xavier’s gaze, looking past the deep dark of the yew tree, past the fencing that marks the boundaries of the property, all the way to the emptiness beyond. He wonders if it’s true, if Xavier has never left the estate since his arrival here.

“What’s important to you?” He finally asks.

Xavier closes his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Erik wants to shake him, but he just takes a steadying breath. “Then that’s something you need to figure out,” he says gruffly. “You’re not going to spend your whole life inside this mansion.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” Xavier shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter as he props his book open again. “Well! That was certainly a tangent. Let’s keep going, shall we?”

Erik can recognize someone trying to make an escape. He almost presses the point – but then reality floods back in and he remembers, for the first time that night, the mission. He’s only a servant here, no matter how much familiarity Xavier treats him with.

“We were talking about extinction,” he prompts Xavier.

“Right, yes. The extinction of the human race – that’s quite a thought, isn’t it?”

“It does seem unlikely.” More’s the pity. “It’s in human nature to fight to the bitter end.”

Xavier taps at his bottom lip. “Must it always come down to a fight? Extinction can happen for all sorts of reasons. You remember when we’ve read about the Neanderthals?”

“That’s a terrible example,” Erik says dryly, “considering violent conflict with Homo sapiens caused their extinction.”

“That’s only one theory – one of a number of factors, in fact.” Xavier’s mouth curves into a generous smile. “I prefer the theory that interbreeding – a result of peaceful cohabitation with Homo sapiens – had contributed to their fade.”

“Make love, not war? All that poetry of yours has filled your head with too many stories, Charles.”

Wait. Xavier is looking at him with bright eyes. You used my name, Erik can almost hear him say.

This wasn’t – This isn’t supposed to happen. What is he doing – playing house with Shaw’s toy, teasing and bantering and debating? The drumbeat of his heart rolls against his chest like thunder. He’s making a mistake. He’s getting too close.

“Erik.” In the space of a blink, Xavier has leaned forward. His fingers are warm where they curl around Erik’s wrist, grounding him. “It doesn’t have to be a fight all the time.”

He breaths out harshly, no longer sure what they’re talking about. “Yes. It does.”

“No.” The firelight catches Xavier’s eyes, scattering gold along the lines of intensity on his face. “We – both of us, and all humans, for that matter – we can choose the better path. We all have the potential to make the right choices.”

Xaviers’ fingers are a firebrand against his skin. Erik swallows, pulling his wrist away. “If you’re going to pin your hopes on other people’s potential, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

“But I must,” Xavier murmurs. “If I can’t have hope, then what else is left?”

God. Shaw is going to destroy him. Erik is going to hand him to Shaw on a silver platter and Shaw will suck him dry and toss his broken body aside. Desperately, Erik reminds himself that Xavier is only a human, a spoiled entitled human too lazy and complacent to look past the high walls of his opulent cage.

The words ring hollow.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls softly. “The world isn’t as kind as you think it is.”

“Maybe not, but you are kinder than you think you are.”

Erik huffs out a sardonic laugh. “No. I’m really not.”

Suddenly, he can’t bear to be in the room for another second longer. “May I be excused?”

It’s a crisp and clear night outside. Erik breathes in deep, the cool breeze settling into his lungs, his heart, his head. An exhale, and he pictures the choked mess of his thoughts flowing out of him, leaving his mind clear once more, his convictions once more solidifying, crystallising.

Gravel crunches under his boots as he makes his way through the grounds, and then he’s leaving the path behind, treading through grassy fields. It’s peaceful here, his only company the wind and the soft background hum of wildlife.

Before him, the yew tree looms, its diameter impossibly thick, the complex tangle of its branches sweeping wide. Yew trees are among the longest-lived, Erik recalls. This tree was here long before he was born, and it will still be here long after he dies. He looks up at the gnarled branches, thinking about Charles, thinking about the night they first met, thinking about a noose and a pale, dangling body.

A low stone wall stands just behind the yew tree, demarcating the edges of the property. He could just leave right now, Shaw be damned. Erik can see it so clearly: vaulting over the stone wall, following the road until he reaches a village, stealing a ride on an automobile, on and on until he returns to where he’s supposed to be. The safehouse. The Brotherhood. He can return to the fight right now, and Shaw can’t stop him. His fingers clench as he pictures the facilities, the scream of steel and the screams of the humans all twisting and collapsing together in a spray of iron.

Erik turns and walks back to the mansion.

(next part)

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

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kurtty-drabbles · 5 years

Text

How They Fell In Love

N/A: AU!Evolution where Lance/Kitty was only a passing infatuation and Kurt/Amanda never happened.

****************************************************************************

“Say, Dad,” Hagan looked from the photo album of the younger X-Men he was browsing through. “How did you and mom fall in love?”

Cutting the BLT baguette sandwich into half, Kurt handed one half to his son and bit into the other half of the sandwich, grinning as he recalled that one Christmas.

****************************************************************************

Flashback

The teenage X-Men, along with the adults, were gathered around the Christmas tree.

“It's beautiful.” Kitty unwrapped the necklace Jan got for her. “Thank you, Jean.”

“How cute.” Amara opened her present. “Thank you so much.”

“I love it.” Jubilee beamed, unwrapping her present.

“Kurt...” Kitty glared at the teleporter who had snuck behind her and dangled a sprig of mistletoe above her head.

“All in the holiday spirit.” said Fuzzy Elf teased.

“Maybe later.” Kitty winked and phased through the coffee table.

“Kitty...” Kurt whined, chasing after the giggling phaser through the Institute's main hall. With a muted 'bamf', he teleported above her and let gravity do the rest, falling on top of the brunette and pinning her onto the carpet.

Kitty hid a startled gasp when she looked into the older mutant's serious eyes and swallowed nervously.

“Rogue told me you ended things with Avalanche.” Kurt muttered, leaning in and taking a whiff of Kitty's scent. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't...” Kitty looked away.

“A rebound, Kitty?” Kurt growled. “Are you really underestimating my feelings for you this much, Katzchen?” grabbing Kitty's waist, he ported them to an empty corridor. “When Dr. McCoy was done with my medical report, he informed me of an unique characteristic due to my... mutation. Liebes, you know how some animals mate for life, right?” at Kitty's nod, he confessed. “That applies to me. The very first time I met you, my instincts had already decided that it is you that I want.”

“So, that's why...” Kitty breathed, recalling the numerous times Kurt had stuck by her side.

“I wasn't happy when you went out with Avalanche, but I stepped back because you were happy.” Kurt confessed.

“I'm sorry.” Kitty whispered. “That... fling with Lance was a mistake.”

“Ja, it's good that you know.” Kurt tucked her head under his chin.

“I do believe I still owe you a kiss, Fuzzy.” Kitty grinned.

Kurt grinned goofily and captured Kitty's lips for the long-awaited kiss, the mistletoe lay forgotten on the floor.

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aviewfromthepanopticon · 5 years

Text

The Sleeping Blood

Big Finish’s summary: When the Doctor falls ill, Susan is forced to leave the safety of the TARDIS behind. Exploring a disused research centre in search of medical supplies, she becomes embroiled in the deadly plans of a terrorist holding an entire world to ransom – and the soldier sent to stop him. Written by: Martin Day Directed by: Lisa Bowerman Release Date: June 3rd, 2015 Series: The Companion Chronicles: The First Doctor Volume 1, Story 1 Cast: Carole Ann Ford (Susan), Darren Strange (Gomery/Kendrick)

I really enjoyed this story, and felt it was a wonderful tale about pretty early on in the Doctor and Susan’s travels, where the evolution of both the Doctor and Susan’s views on what it means to interact with other cultures is explored beautifully. I also adore that the end Susan decides that the rich keeping medical care for only rich people is an evil that is deserving of response.

There is also a lot of interesting commentary in this story about how technology Susan has mastered and thinks of as nothing more than a simple concept she was playing with as an infant, is in fact regarded as super extra advanced tech to the rest of the universe. In this case, the tech Susan dismisses as a baby toy are medical nanomachines.

I am generally interested in any story that grapples with what it means that Susan is a Gallifrayen. Plus Companion Chronicle style stories, which are told from a the first person perspective and only feature the narrator and one other speaking voice, are a great medium to tell stories that explore Susan’s experience as a young Gallifreyan who ran away from home before she became a Time Lord.

I also felt it was so very on brand that it wasn’t until one of them got sick that either Susan or the Doctor thought to check the TARDIS’ sick bay for medical supplies. When they did check, they found that the TARDIS they stole didn’t have anything in stock since it was, you know, going to be decommissioned.

Simply the plot of this story is that the Doctor got a nasty cut on a planet he and Susan were exploring together. About a week later they discover the wound had gotten infected and the TARDIS didn’t have any medical supplies in stock. Susan decides to search the next place the TARDIS lands for medical supplies, and then steal them. Complications arise, Susan witnesses a political conflict on the planet, and she comes away questioning if perhaps she and her grandfather should start getting involved with the affairs of the planets they are visiting.

This story very much gave me the sense that the TARDIS was already, at such an early stage, helpfully taking the Doctor where he needed to go. After all, their first landing place after Susan resolves to steal medical supplies is an abandoned medical research facility that was built by people advanced enough to use nanomachines for medical purposes (The TARDIS, with her still fully functioning Chameleon Circuit, disguised herself as a metal medical cabinet upon landing there)!

As for getting involved, well... Susan learns from the planet’s records that the bacteria has all evolved into super bacteria, and there are no longer any antibiotics that have even the slightest effect on any sort of bacterial infection on the planet. As she searches for supplies to help her grandfather, Susan discovers she is not alone. There is a unit of soldiers in the medical facility with her. The soldiers explain that a terrorist - the Butcher - is hiding in the research center. This terrorist is a hacker who has discovered a way to control the medical nanomachines, and he is threatening to turn them against the people who have had them injected.

Susan really wants to get back to her grandfather with the medical supplies she collected, but the soldiers will not let her leave, and they make her go with them - at gunpoint - as they hunt ever closer to the hacker. One of the soldiers dies as their group makes their way through the medical facility, murdered by the Butcher’s manipulation of the technology they depend on.

When they encounter the hacker, he shuts down all the electronics the soldiers have. As most of them are inside metal skeleton suits, they are unable to move.

The hacker starts trying to explain himself, and says he is about to broadcast a video to all the media networks and they should see it too. He also insists that Susan should call him by his name - Gomery - rather than call him the Butcher

Before he can transmit the video, one of the soldiers - Kendrick - gets free of his skeleton suit, and shoots Gomery in the head with an old fashioned gun.

Susan is really really really REALLY not ok with watching a man be shot like that in front of her, while he was talking to her at that, and even as the soldiers keep their promise and return her to the TARDIS, all she can think about is the trauma of watching Kendrick kill Gomery. In addition to the trauma of seeing someone die like that, Susan is worried she got too involved in an other planet’s affairs, and that thought terrifies her, because she knows getting involved in any way is very much against all of Gallifrey’s laws.

This story’s many strengths all are most evident in its end, the final few moments are truly exceptional Doctor Who writing, and paint an incredible portrait of the Doctor and Susan in their awkward in between stage, before Shoreditch, before Ian and Barbara, before that first trip to Skaro, before all of it.

I’ve transcribed it below, because I just really and deeply love the end of this story:

SUSAN: I began using the equipment and drugs I had taken from the research center to start Grandfather’s treatment. Over the course of just a few hours, I saw him begin to recover. He began to talk more coherently and his coughing eased. Color returned to his cheeks. Though he did little but sleep, waking occasionally to cast a proprietorial eye over the TARDIS controls and issue a few clipped instructions. Finally he allowed me to change the dressing on his hand, and I saw that the wound was much improved. As I pulled a blanket up under Grandfather’s chin, I felt something nudge against my foot. It was one of the security robots! Somehow it had followed me onto the ship! I reached down, tentatively, not sure if I should try to pick it up or if I should bat it away with my foot. “Now, you’re not going to hurt me again, are you?” Much to my surprise, it started to play a message! I wondered if this was some of what Gomery, the Butcher, had prepared for the people of Roah! I wondered if perhaps I was the only person ever to hear it. GOMERY: I am truly sorry for each and every death I have caused. It gives me little satisfaction, but I am sure each one was a necessary evil. Who am I to decide who lives and dies? The point is, I’m doing all this precisely because other people are playing god. The truth that has been hidden in plain sight is that our medical advances aren’t for everyone. Our research programs, the drugs we are developing that would have been unimaginable only a generation ago, these only exist to benefit the rich and influential. The top strata of society. Who’s at the top? You may ask. If you’re rich enough to hear my message, you’ve probably answered your own question. We tell ourselves the medicine benefits everyone. Assume every citizen has access to these treatments, but there are millions who cannot afford our nanomachinery. Millions who have never seen a doctor, not because they don’t need to, but because they can’t pay. They’re in our shantytowns and our slums, but they also serve us in our restaurants and maintain our vehicles. They may even be our neighbors. You see, medical nanomachinery is expensive. Governments and charities can barely afford to invest in it. The major backers are pharmaceutical companies, and they’re only interest is profit. But it is my firm belief, a belief I am prepared to die for or to kill for, that these advances should be for the good of all on Roah. Not the few who can afford it! Though my name is Gomery, you’ve heard me called “Butcher,” a silly nickname I’ve adopted to express my disgust at the way things are, now turned against me. But I didn’t always see the world this way. You won’t have been told, but for many years I worked as a government research scientist. I was in charge of a project that would have allowed the authorities to remotely control the world’s biological technology. Though intended for use only in emergencies, such as civil unrest. It should be obvious to all that this is just another means of control. And so I resigned, sabotaging my research so it would appear the scheme could never work. To my delight, the research center was closed. And then, over the next few years, I began to wonder if I could use my old research to make our world’s leaders listen! To force them to share the benefits of official medical technology rather than keep it for themselves. SUSAN: I found myself replaying the message, again and again. I couldn’t forget the look on the woman’s face, when Gomery had, what was the phrase he’d used? “Switched her off,” to make a point. A terrible end to a life. But neither could I forget Kendrick’s cold blooded execution. Which man most deserved to be called butcher? I wondered if there was a version of Ling embedded within the tiny polyhedral robot, and to my delight… LING: Hello, unknown user! I am Linguistic Interface II! You may call me Ling! How may I be of assistance today? SUSAN: While grandfather slept, I asked Ling about the man called “Gomery” and the planet Roah. I’m not sure why I did. Perhaps it stopped me thinking about grandfather’s illness and how close we’d come to disaster. Perhaps I just had too many questions in my head. And not nearly enough answers. I discovered an excerpt from an even longer recording! It was hard to tell if it had been kept by Gomery himself, or if it had been acquired by the internal security services. It was labeled as a conversation between Gomery and his grandmother, and looking at the chronology it seemed to be this encounter that had changed Gomery. That had forced him to reexamine his life and to start again. To begin on the path, if Kendrick was to be believed, that led inexorably to the killing of many innocent people. That led to an unremarkable man becoming the Butcher. GOMERY: I can steal some tech from work! I can find a way! GRANDMOTHER: And what if you’re found out? No. I won’t have that on my conscious. GOMERY: Then let me pay for treatment. GRANDMOTHER: I’m not like this because I’m poor! I’m like this because it’s time to go! GOMERY: But there must be something else we can try! GRANDMOTHER: All things that have a beginning have an end. That’s what my mother used to say. Perhaps one day, you’ll understand. SUSAN: Suddenly there was another voice in the TARDIS. “What’s the matter my child?” Grandfather, though still slightly feverish, was awake again and regarding me with some concern. I realized that I was crying, and turned my face away from him. I tried to hide the truth from him, but he could tell that something was troubling me. So I told him everything that had happened. And of course Grandfather, being Grandfather, didn’t quite see the problem. “As far as I can tell, you used your intelligence to find the drugs I needed. You have saved my life. What’s so wrong with that? Hmmmm? Hmm?” But I knew that I had intervened quite decisively in the affairs of others. Perhaps, if Gomery’s plan had succeeded, millions of people on the colony world of Roah would now have access to life saving medicines. Grandfather was keen to remind me that I had been forced to help Kendrick at gunpoint, and that Gomery was a terrorist. That the ends so rarely justify the means. But I was still troubled. “You have to make a stand! That’s what you always used to say at home! What’s changed?” Grandfather tried to explain that it was really very simple. What had changed was that we had started to see other worlds. Other cultures at first hand. And that he had come to understand that we must not interfere. That to interfere would make us little better than this terrorist trying to manipulate events with no real knowledge of how things might turn out. And then Grandfather sighed. “Of course, if we are forced to act...” his words trailed away. “There are never any black and white answers.” I pondered Grandfather’s words for a few moments. “But that doesn’t mean we stop asking the questions, surely!” But Grandfather then claimed he was tired, and that he didn’t really understand what I was driving at, and anyway, it was time he was back in charge of his ship. New worlds, new times, new adventures. All this awaited us. But, I couldn’t help but notice, Grandfather looking increasingly thoughtful as he watched the rise and fall of the rotar, as we continued our journey through space and time.

#Susan Foreman #First Doctor #The Sleeping Blood #Big Finish #Doctor Who #The Companion Chronicles #The Doctor

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tomasorban · 6 years

Text

Alchemy in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries

The first man to teach the chemistry of the human body and to declare that the true purpose of alchemy was the preparation of medicine for the treatment of disease was one Jean Baptista Van Helmont, a disciple of Paracelsus. Van Helmont has been called the “Descartes of Medicine” for his probing philosophical discourses. But he was also an accomplished alchemist. In his treatise, De Natura Vitae Eternae, he wrote: “I have seen and I have touched the Philosopher’s Stone more than once. The color of it was like saffron in powder but heavy and shining like pounded glass. I had once given me the fourth of a grain, and I made projection with this fourth part of a grain wrapped in paper upon eight ounces of quicksilver heated in a crucible. The result of the projection was eight ounces, lacking just eleven grains, of the most pure gold.”

In his early thirties, Van Helmont retired to an old castle in Belgium near Brussels and remained there, almost unknown to his neighbors until his death in his sixty-seventh year. He never professed to have actually prepared the Philosopher’s Stone, but he say he gained his knowledge from alchemists he contacted during his years of research.

Van Helmont also gives particulars of an Irish gentleman called Butler, a prisoner in the Castle of Vilvord in Flanders, who during his captivity performed strange cures by means of Hermetic medicine. The news of his cure of a Breton monk, a fellow-prisoner suffering from severe erysipelas, by the administration of almond milk in which he had merely dipped the Philosopher’s Stone brought Van Helmont, accompanied by several noblemen, rushing to the castle to investigate. In their presence Butler cured an aged woman of “megrim” by dipping the Stone into olive oil and then anointing her head. There was also an abbess who had suffered for eighteen years with paralyzed fingers and a swollen arm. These disabilities were removed by applying the Stone a few times to her tongue.

In Lives of the Alchemystical Philosophers (published in 1815), it is stated that prior to the events at Vilvord, Butler attracted some attention by his transmutations in London during the reign of King James I. Butler is said to have gained his knowledge in Arabia in a rather roundabout way. When a ship on which he had taken passage was captured by African pirates, he was taken prisoner and sold into slavery in Arabia. His Arab master was an alchemist with knowledge of the correct order of the processes. Butler assisted him in some of his operations, and when he later escaped from captivity, he carried off a large portion of a red powder, which was the alchemical Powder of Projection.

Dennis Zachare in his memoirs gives an interesting account of his pursuit of the Philosopher’s Stone during this period. At the age of twenty, he set out to Bordeaux to undertake a college curriculum, and hence to Toulouse for a-course of law. In this town, he made the acquaintance of some students in possession of a number of alchemical books. It seems that at this time there was a craze for alchemical experiments among the students of Paris and other French towns, and this craze caught Zachare’s imagination. His law studies were forsaken and his experiments in alchemy began. On his parents’ death, having expended all his money on his new love, he returned home and from their estate raised further money to continue his research. For ten years, according to his own statement, after experiments of all sorts and meetings with countless men with various methods to sell, he finally sat down himself to study carefully the writings of the philosophers on the subject. He states that it was Raymond Lully’s Testament, Codicil, and Epistle (addressed to King Robert) that gave him the key to the secret. From the study of this book and The Grand Rosary of Arnold de Villanova, he formulated a plan entirely different from any he had previously followed. After another fifteen months of toil, he says “I beheld with transport the evolution of the three successive colors that testify to the True Work. It came finally at Eastertide. I made a projection of my divine powder on quicksilver, and in less than an hour it was converted into fine gold. God knows how joyful I was, how I thanked Him for this great grace and favor and prayed for His Holy Spirit to pour yet more light upon me that I might use what I had already attained only to His praise and honor.” In his only writing (titled Opusculum Chemicum), Zachare gives his own personal narrative and states that the Great Art is the gift of God alone. The methods and possibilities of the transmutation of metals and the Elixir as a medicine are also considered.

There is also the evidence of John Frederick Helvetius, as he testified in 1666. He made claim to be an adept, but admitted he received the Powder of Transmutation from another alchemist. He wrote: “On December 27th, 1666, in the forenoon, there came a certain man to my house who was unto me a complete stranger, but of an honest, grave and authoritative mien, clothed in a simple garb like that of a Memnonite. He was of middle height, his face was long and slightly pock-marked, his hair was black and straight, his chin close-shaven, his age about forty-three or forty-four, and his native place North Holland, so far as I could make out. After we had exchanged salutations, he inquired whether he might have some conversation with me. It was his idea to speak of the ‘Pyrotechnic Art,’ since he had read one of my tracts, being that directed against the Sympathetic Powder of Sir Kenelm Digby, in which I implied a suspicion whether the Great Arcanum of the Sages was not after all a gigantic hoax. He took therefore this opportunity of asking if indeed I could not believe that such a Grand Mystery might exist in the nature of things, being that by which a physician could restore any patient whose vitals were not irreparably destroyed. My answer allowed that such a Medicine would be a most desirable acquisition for any doctor and that none might tell how many secrets there may be hidden in Nature, but that as for me — though I had read much on the truth of this Art — it had never been my fortune to meet with a master of alchemical science. I inquired further whether he was himself a medical man since he spoke.so learnedly about medicine, but he disclaimed my suggestion modestly, describing himself as a blacksmith, who had always taken great interest in the extraction of medicines from metals by means of fire.

“After some further talk the ‘craftsman Elias’ — for so he called himself — addressed me thus: ‘Seeing that you have read so much in the writings of the alchemists concerning the Stone, its substance, color, and its wonderful effects, may I be allowed to question whether you have yourself prepared it?’

Coin minted from alchemical gold showing the symbol for lead raised to the heavens.

“On my answering him in the negative, he took from his bag an ivory box of cunning workmanship in which there were three large pieces of a substance resembling glass or pale sulfur and informed me that here was enough of his tincture there to produce twenty tons of gold. When I held the treasure in my hands for some fifteen minutes listening to his accounting of its curative properties, I was compelled to return it (not without a certain degree of reluctance). After thanking him for his kindness, I asked why it was that his tincture did not display that ruby color that I had been taught to regard as characteristic of the Philosophers’ Stone. He replied that the color made no difference and that the substance was sufficiently mature for all practical purposes. He brusquely refused my request for a piece of the substance, were it no larger than a coriander seed, adding in a milder tone that he could not do so for all the wealth which I possessed; not indeed on amount of its preciousness but for another reason that it was not lawful to divulge, Indeed, if fire could be destroyed by fire, he would cast it rather into the flames.

“Then, after some consideration, he asked whether I could not show him into a room at the back of the house, where we should be less liable to observation. Having led him into the parlor, he requested me to produce a gold coin, and while I was finding it he took from his breast pocket a green silk handkerchief wrapped about five gold medals, the metal of which was infinitely superior to that of my own money. Being filled with admiration, I asked my visitor how he had attained this most wonderful knowledge in the world, to which he replied that it was a gift bestowed upon him freely by a friend who had stayed a few days at his house, and who had taught him also how to change common flints and crystals into stones more precious than rubies and sapphires. ‘He made known to me further,” said the craftsman, ‘the preparation of crocus of iron, an infallible cure for dysentery and of a metallic liquor, which was an efficacious remedy for dropsy, and of other medicines.’ To this, however, I paid no great heed as I was impatient to hear about the Great Secret. The craftsman said further that his master caused him to bring a glass full of warm water to which he added a little white powder and then an ounce of silver, which melted like ice therein. ‘Of this he emptied one half and gave the rest to me,’ the craftsman related. ‘Its taste resembled that of fresh milk, and the effect was most exhilarating.’

“I asked my visitor whether the potion was a preparation of the Philosophers’ Stone, but he replied that I must not be so curious. He added presently that at the bidding of his master, he took down a piece of lead water-pipe and melted it in a pot. Then the master removed some sulfurous powder on the point of a knife from a little box, cast it into the molten lead, and after exposing the compound for a short time to a fierce fire, he poured forth a great mass of liquid gold upon the brick floor of the kitchen. The master told me to take one-sixteenth of this gold as a keepsake for myself and distribute the rest among the poor (which I did by handing over a large sum in trust for the Church of Sparrendaur). Before bidding me farewell, my friend taught me this Divine Art.’

“When my strange visitor concluded his narrative, I pleaded with him to prove his story by performing a transmutation in my presence. He answered that he could not do so on that occasion but that he would return in three weeks, and, if then at liberty, would do so. He returned punctually on the promised day and invited me to take a walk, in the course of which we spoke profoundly on the secrets of Nature he had found in fire, though I noticed that my companion was exceedingly reserved on the subject of the Great Secret. When I prayed him toentrust me with a morsel of his precious Stone, were it no larger than a grape seed, he handed it over like a princely donation. When I expressed a doubt whether it would be sufficient to tinge more than four grains of lead, he eagerly demanded it back. I complied, hoping that he would exchange it for a larger fragment, instead of which he divided it with histhumbnail, threw half in the fire and returned the rest, saying ‘It is yet sufficient for you.”

The narrative goes on to state that on the next day Helvetius prepared six drachms of lead, melted it in a crucible, and cast in the tincture. There was a hissing sound and a slight effervescence, and after fifteen minutes, Helvetius found that the lead had been transformed into the finest gold, which on cooling, glittered and shone as gold indeed. A goldsmith to whom he took this declared it to be the purest gold that he had ever seen and offered to buy it at fifty florins per ounce. Amongst others, the Controller of the Mint came to examine the gold and asked that a small part might be placed at his disposal for examination. Being put through the tests with aqua fortis and antimony it was pronounced pure gold of the finest quality. Helvetius adds in a later part of his writing that there was left in his heart by the craftsman a deeply seated conviction that “through metals and out of metals, themselves purified by highly refined and spiritualized metals, there may be prepared the Living Gold and Quicksilver of the Sages, which bring both metals and human bodies to perfection.”

In Helvetius’ writing there is also the testimony of another person by the name of Kuffle and of his conversion to a belief in alchemy that was the result of an experiment that he had been able to perform himself. However, there is no indication of the source from which he obtained his powder of projection. Secondly, there is an account of a silversmith named “Grit,” who in the year 1664, at the city of the Hague, converted a pound of lead partly into gold and partly into silver, using a tincture he received from a man named John Caspar Knoettner. This projection was made in the presence of many witnesses and Helvetius himself examined the precious metals obtained from the operation.

In 1710, Sigmund Richter published his Perfect and True Preparation of the Philosophical Stoneunder the auspices of the Rosicrucians. Another representative of the Rosy Cross was the mysterious Lascaris, a descendant of the royal house of Lascaris, an old Byzantine family who spread the knowledge of the Hermetic art in Germany during the eighteenth century. Lascaris affirmed that when unbelievers beheld the amazing virtues of the Stone, they would no longer be able to regard alchemy as a delusive art. He appears to have performed transmutations in different parts of Germany but then disappeared and was never heard from again.

#alchemy #esoteric #hermetism #philosophy #astrology

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occultdigest · 6 years

Text

Consider this a vague intro of sorts for Tib, Sliabh, and Amadeus. If you gave my three hunter folk here their own vague story

Bloodborne: Revelations

The Fox and the Hound are a duo well known in Yharnam for their love for violence and chaos. Powerful fighters on their own, it is when they are together that they form a unconquerable killing machine. When tales of mystery and horror (and most importantly riches) are said to be found in the Chalice Dungeons of the city, they set out to conquer these new lands and carve their names deeper into the flesh and bones of Yharnam.

Tiberius “Tib” Rex The Fox

“Back home, they say “Murder is the most honourable of sins”, and I like to think of myself as an honourable man...”

Tib is what happens when a violent man has never faced any sort of misfortune in his life. An infamous bodysnatcher and murderer, he has managed to avoid any sort of punishment and karma on his journey of bizarre carnage. Thanks to this, Tib has built up an inhuman sense of self-righteousness and gross overconfidence that makes him impossible to take down and impossible to shut up. The one thing that gives him almost as much pleasure as murder is a good performance. Be it playing the fiddle for a lively party or singing after the slaughter, Tib loves to draw crowds and play to an audience, even if it is just his partner in crime. After running far from his birthplace, he has found a special sort of home in Yharnam. It’s a city built on blood and violence and bad people, and those are some of Tib’s favourite things...

Sliabh Donard The Hound

“I am not the Wheel, I am the Hand that Turns the Wheel”

Do not let her soft voice and calm demeanor lull you into a false sense of security, Sliabh Donard is the personification of harsh power and control. With an iron hand and a sharp intellect, she can take command of any situation she’s in and will stay in charge for as long as she feels is needed. The moment the reigns are ripped from her hands, Sliabh’s calmness is shattered and her infamous visceral rage takes over and one can only hope for a quick death at that point. Although she may come off as a villainous individual, she has a peculiar sense of justice that can spare even the most unfortunate of souls. Sliabh is judge, jury, and executioner, and she will deliver the cruelest divine wrath God will allow...

In their preparation for tomb prospecting, Tib and Sliabh come across the perfect individual to show them the research and maps that will guide them on their journey, a hapless Mensis Scholar who is possibly the only survivor of the school’s meeting with Mergo. When he isn’t leading them through tedious arcane rituals, Amadeus is forced to act as bait for whatever horrible plan the duo has in store.

Amadeus Mattheus Edison Mensis Scholar

“Drastic measures must be taken, but I will try to make this as painless as possible!”

Amadeus is a gentle man who’d much rather bury himself into a medical book the be thrown into the fray. He unfortunately is rather squeamish and weak-willed, which makes him a poor traveling companion for Hunters who revel in the gore and mess they create. Amadeus a very well-read student who has published several studies that were quite well received by his peers and even the school’s headmaster, although this research he conducts is quite grim. In an attempt to study the strange phenomenon of “Insight” and “Second Sight”, Amadeus has toured in many surgical theaters experimenting on the brains of victims from Mensis’ harvesting of the Unseen City, with some of these people still very much awake. Considering how messy surgery is and how disturbing his line of research, one would think it would clash with his disgust of murder and mayhem, but Amadeus keeps his chin up and puts on a brave face. After all, “Evolution without courage will be the ruin of our race."

#my characters #my stuff #Bloodborne #Maybe #long post #blood #eyes #trypophobia

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lollercakesff · 5 years

Text

soft touch

chapter 4 | ao3 pairing: anne / gilbert rating: mature wordcount: 3,637

I don’t see Anne for nearly a month, her door going unanswered and catching no sight of her in town when I’m not working. I’m not foolish enough to think of ambushing her at school but with every passing day I grow more concerned, more terrified that I’ve somehow pushed her further away.

It’s ridiculous, I know, but still. Was it possible to lose something you never had? The question dogs me every night now.

“Here you go, Doctor Blythe,” Elizabeth Collins chirps, looking up from the items I’ve purchased with a wide smile. I turn away from where I look out of the window to the store, my absent mindedness evident even now as I try to complete my weekly restocking.

“Thank you Lizzie,” I pay and grab my bags, heading into the street to tuck the items safely in my saddlebag. I’m nearly to my horse when Susan steps alongside me, her hand catching my arm in a tight grip.

“Doctor Blythe, I hope all is well with you,” she greets quietly, drawing my attention towards her.

“Mrs Baker, how is Miss Wright?” I try to remain neutral, my voice cracking as the memory of that night flashes in my mind’s eye.

“I would prefer not to say… Perhaps we may borrow you for a moment at the surgery if it’s not too much to ask?” Glancing around us I try to find her in the crowd, my eyes searching but eventually being drawn down towards the woman before me.

“Yes - I could arrange that. Let me just settle my things and I’ll be right over.” Tucking my purchases into the bags I suck in a breath and close my eyes to think over what to say. I couldn’t afford a misstep this time - I needed to maintain my composure and try to offer her something, anything, to help her with what she was working through.

Coming upon the surgery’s building I watch as Anne shuffles along the walkway, her black skirts shifting in the wind and her face drawn. Even from a distance I can practically see the dark circles under her eyes, the sight of her causing me to rush forward. In the blink of an eye I’ve opened the door to the office and turned to take her arm, Susan’s hand snaking out to push mine away. I fight the urge to comment, stepping back as Susan helps Anne towards the examination room in the back.

By the way she moves I know it’s not a social call, my stomach in my throat as I grab my medical bag and move to haunt the doorway as Susan gets her settled on the bed. “May I come in?” I ask, a stranger in this scenario looking in on something almost secret.

“Yes. I’m sorry - I didn’t want to bother you but Susan insisted,” Anne whispers, her voice tight with pain. My mouth dries at the sound of it, the only thing saving me being my medical training coming to the forefront.

“Don’t apologize - what’s going on?” I sit on the stool near the edge of the mattress and look up at her, watching as she closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“I think I’m having a miscarriage,” Anne states evenly, opening her eyes to look at me head on. I have to fight to take a breath, my hands tightening on my knees instinctively. “I’ve experienced two before and they were quite similar to what has been happening this morning but Susan wanted to - “

“So you dragged her to town?” I snap and then exhale, closing my eyes. “My apologies - I only meant to question why you didn’t call me to the cottage?” I get to my feet and begin my examination, motioning for her to lay back and reaching for my stethoscope.

“She is particularly stubborn, Doctor Blythe,” Susan says in return, careful to remain steady as she grips Anne’s hand.

“Ah, so not much has changed then…” I pause and look towards Anne’s face, sympathy clear in my eyes as I remember the distance she’s put between any contact since coming back into my life. “Are you okay with me doing a brief exam? You can tell me about your symptoms as we go.”

She nods and starts to describe the cramping and bleeding, the lack of monthly cycles that she’s experienced since coming to the Glen. I check her pulse and her temperature, the sounds of breath in her chest and sweep for any swelling in the abdomen. When she shifts upward to let me place my stethoscope at her back she groans and holds tightly to the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white.

“And you’ve - this has happened before?” I question calmly though it pains me to ask. She nods and recites the months and years numbly, her hands rubbing anxiously over her wrists and throat until her skin reddens. “I do think that is what’s happening, based on what I’m observing and hearing here but I would like to check on you again in a few hours, just to be sure. Unfortunately - “

“Don’t say it, please,” she breaks in, her eyes snapping up to mine. “I’m well aware of my body’s repeated failures.”

“I wasn’t going to say - “

“Please,” she breathes, her gaze hardening. I take notice of the way her back straightens and Susan steps forward protectively. Holding up my hands to show my surrender, I step back from the bed and look between the two women.

“Mrs Baker, I would appreciate you taking Anne home and settling her into bed. I would also like it if I was permitted to stop by and check in again this evening…”

“You may. I do believe we would all sleep better if you did,” Susan replies and moves forward to help Anne back to her feet. I stand back and let them pass, following them out into the waiting area and watching as they straighten their clothing and bags. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to have the tea ready when you arrive - it’s getting colder out there now.”

“Thank you Mrs Baker,” I bid, settling the stethoscope around my neck and twisting my hands around it. They’re nearly through the door when I jog towards it, Anne’s step faltering as she looks back up at me. “I’m sorry,” I add quietly and watch as she smiles gently, eyes clear.

“It’s sadly better this way,” she replies and then they’re gone and I’m left to place more unanswered questions on my growing list.

When I arrive at the small cottage later that evening Susan opens the door before I even knock, her composure more welcoming than it’s ever been as she shows me into Anne’s bedroom without a question raised. I hesitate at the doorway, taking in the sight of the minimal decor and the lone carpetbag tucked into the corner.

“You can go in Doctor, we’ve already discussed it and she didn’t feel quite up to getting out of bed,” Susan urges, leading me into the room and to a waiting chair at the bedside. She sets the tea tray down on the side table and leaves the room to busy herself in the kitchen.

I settle myself into the chair and open my black bag to pull out my supplies, watching as slowly Anne’s eyes open and she looks up at me with a curious stare.

“What?” I prompt when she doesn’t speak, her body shifting until she’s sitting up in her nightgown with a heavy sweater pulled tightly around her. It seems almost improper to sit here, next to her in bed, but I force myself to focus and treat her like any other patient I would care for.

“I know you may think that this is difficult but I beg you not to hold it against me that I’m thankful for this,” she answers quietly, surely, her voice steady. I let her words sit with me for a moment, the evolution of my thoughts taking me through a whirlwind of feelings and dropping me back at her bedside.

“I wouldn’t ever judge you for your feelings. I can only imagine what you may have experienced to make you thankful for something like this,” I try to reply neutrally, hoping my words don’t come out as prying for more. She looks up at me then, her grey-green eyes darkened in the low light.

“We haven’t spoken in some time, Gilbert, and there are many things that have happened in my life that I’m not proud of,” she states formally and lifts her chin as I press my stethoscope to her chest.

“It isn’t my place to evaluate your decisions but I do hope you know that if you ever want to talk about things, I’m here for you.” A silence spreads between us as I check a few more things, my thoughts focusing on the life she’s lived and the pain she must have suffered.

“I wanted children, you know,” she pauses as I look up at her, her gaze averted. “I thought I would build a home for them and they would be so loved. But then this… This happened and I thought that maybe it was the world telling me I wasn’t ready. And when it happened again I knew that it was a sign that I wasn’t meant to have kids. I wanted them too much, I think.”

The heartbreak in her voice is almost palpable, my own throat forming a lump as she shifts uncomfortably under my watch. “Did your doctor provide you with a diagnosis when you saw him for the first two?”

Shaking her head slowly she glances up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “The first doctor never talked to me, he would only talk to my husband in the next room. Something foolish about me being too weak to handle the news. The second one was a bit kinder. He told me when we had a moment of privacy that I likely couldn’t have any children. That hurt more than you could believe, to hear that.”

“Anne,” I whisper, watching as a range of emotions cloud her expression. She looks away abruptly and inhales a shaky breath, settling herself. “There are many reasons why this may keep happening to you but none of them are your fault. I need you to know that.” I withdraw my hands and tuck them in my lap, watching as she moves the hair over her shoulder after a quick nod. I can see the red starting to return to the roots of her hair, the dull change of the colour apparent through the dye. “Why black?” I ask as my fingers find her pulse in her wrist, my questioning determined to lighten the mood.

Her eyes light up for the briefest of moments before a small smile passes over her lips, reminding me of the girl I once knew. I knew she was still in there, somewhere, just tucked away under all this pain. There she was a little less broken, a little more vibrant. “It was the first colour I could think of that would make me blend in,” she replies honestly, lifting her shoulders.

“It doesn’t do you justice,” I admit and wait for her to snap back at me, tentative in my approach. She only sighs and looks up at me, like she’s trying to tell me something but coming up empty. “Though if you were trying to join the Wright family, I guess it’s spot on.”

That gets a laugh out of her, a small bark that brings colour back to her cheeks. “Is my name really that telling?”

“Oh, for me? Yes. When I heard the given name that you were using I nearly choked on my dinner. I had no idea that it was you but ‘Cordelia Wright’? For anyone that knew you it would raise some red flags for sure,” I chide, my voice lilting as she smiles up at me.

“I asked Diana if she would mind terribly if I used her name when I came here. She was the only one I wrote to after - I mean… After.” Her body tenses and her brow furrows as she looks away, a shadow passing over her expression. With her hands twisted in her lap I shift in my chair, uncertain how to proceed and continue talking with her. “I believe I owe you some sort of explanation,” she breathes after a moment, her gaze focused on the window.

“You don’t owe me anything, Anne. But if you would like to tell me I will listen to you without judgement,” I promise and inch closer in my chair, desperate to ease her mind in any way I can.

“My husband was not who I thought he was when I married him. I had idealized some of his traits and after the wedding it all came to a head. After my first miscarriage he - “ she swallows tightly, her gaze averted. “He hurt me. I told myself it was just the emotions running high. That we both felt them so brightly that he got carried away. But it was like a dam broke and it just happened again and again. I tried to rationalize it. I wrote to Marilla but I never sent the letters. I - I even went to the train station once but he came and got me before the train left.”

“Anne,” I whisper, hoping that her name pulls her back from the memories that she’s sinking into. It works, if only for a moment, and she exhales harshly.

“When I still couldn’t give him an heir it just got worse. I tried to leave but I never had enough money to get back to the Island and home. I was alone and stuck and every time I tried he just found me again and again.”

I swallow back the words of anger that fill my mouth, clenching my hand around my stethoscope until it bites into my palm. My bright and shining Anne, the hopeful girl with dreams and an imagination that ran wild, was forced into submission and had had to fight her way out. I couldn’t fathom the type of person that would do this to someone, to her.

“Why didn’t you ever ask me for help? You had to have known - “

“Gil,” she interrupts me, her eyes sharp. “Even if I’d known where you’d ended up, did you truly believe that I would come to you for something like this? After everything?”

“I once offered to slay dragons for you, Anne Shirley,” I remind her, hoping to break the tension that’s sparking between us. She can’t bite back the smile at that, her eyes rolling as she pulls her knees to her chest below the blanket. “I would have come for you. In a second, I would have helped you,” I add quietly after a moment, pensive.

“Marilla would have too. She would have sold the whole farm to come get me if she’d had to. That’s why I finally was able to get away. When I got Rachel Lynde’s letter I fell apart. I pleaded with Roy - “

“Gardner?” The clarification clips out of me before I can stop it, the truth slapping me in the face as she nods slightly. I feel it hit me like a rock, settling in my chest and rolling over me with her confirmation. Some small part of me had hoped it had been any other man that did this to her, at least then I would have been unable to stop it. But I knew Roy. I knew when they were courting and I did nothing. The shame that floods into my chest is numbing and I have to focus as she presses on.

“Roy wouldn’t let me go to her funeral and I lost everything when that happened. I had to leave then and it happened so quickly. I told his mother that I wanted to surprise him with a nursery crib and I used that money and the small amount I’d hidden away to get on a boat back to the Island. It was a terrible journey but when I arrived in Charlottetown I connected with Diana and explained what happened. I don’t even understand how she made it work but within a day she had arranged for a position for me and assured me I wouldn’t ever go back.”

“But why change your appearance? And your name?” I ask foolishly, drawn into her storytelling like all of the times before when she’d entranced me.

“He’d found me before. I couldn’t be Anne here. What if he comes looking for me? Or sends someone looking for me? How many redheaded Anne’s do you think there are on this small rock?” She scoffs, waving her hand and tucking her chin into her knees.

“Are you still afraid he’ll find you?” The question settles between us and she adjusts, slow to address it.

“It’s been only a few months. I’m glad I’m ill because I’ll have no connections to him now, but I do think about it. Every night I think about what will happen when he finds me,” she admits and hides her tears in her sweater sleeve.

“He’ll never take you, Anne. Not ever,” I swear, settling my hand next to hers but not daring touch her without her action. I’d learned from the last time, from what she’s told me. Touch was not a kind memory to her right now.

“You can’t promise that, Gil,” she breathes before linking her pinky with mine. A small bridge in a world of pain.

“I can. I am.” It comes out of my mouth so confidently that I nearly don’t believe it myself, my old habits of being ready to give everything almost stunning me into silence. I decide then I need to break the tension if we were ever going to find a new normal. “I am glad you shared this with me, Anne. I promise it’s safe for you here and that I won’t share this with anyone. Can you just tell me one thing though? Why you have been avoiding me? I mean,” I pause and chuckle as she looks at me plainly, an eyebrow raised. “Why did you run from me those first few times we came across one another?”

She smiles slightly and looks away, shrugging. “I’ve tried to stay out of your way, I will admit.”

“You’ve actively avoided me and used Susan to distract me. I’d say that’s a little much, even for you,” I add with a grin and shift myself an inch closer.

“Fine. I concede. I was scared to see you. To tell you why I was here, looking like this and using a fake name.” The truth of it settles in my gut like a rock. I try to not let it drag me down, smiling through the hurt that rings in my body at her words.

“Why would you be scared to see me?” I force from my lips, watching as she sits up straighter.

“Because we never really left off on the right foot, I don’t think. After… What happened in the orchard we didn’t really talk. And I guess that made me nervous about simply showing up in your town and making a place for myself here.” Her voice drops as she finishes, her hands busying themselves in her lap.

“That’s partly my fault,” I whisper after a drawn out moment, running my hand through my hair and scratching at the back of my neck. “We were friends and I closed myself off from you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What’s in the past…” Anne surmised quietly, her eyes flicking up to mine and then darting away as quick as they’d come. The silence between us drags on, our tea cold by the time she’s able to look at me once more. “It’s getting late.”

Nodding, I get to my feet and reluctantly move towards the door. I still have questions, hundreds, thousands of them, but they can wait for another night I tell myself. We have time.

“I would like to see you again. Definitely to ensure you’re okay after today… But outside of that too. Would you maybe be okay with that?” I ask as I stand near the door, my bag in my hand and my jacket slung over my arm. She grins and shakes her head, looking up at me with a lightness I hadn’t seen yet from her that night.

“As long as you refer to me by Miss Wright, I shall humour your request,” she counters and I nod in return, the name unfamiliar on my lips.

“Really though, Cordelia Wright?” I tease, my gaze never leaving hers.

“I needed something to disappear into and you know I always had a fondness for a dear Princess Cordelia,” she says and leans back onto her pillows, pulling her sweater across her chest in a marked change. “Goodnight Doctor Blythe.”

“If I’m going to call you by your chosen name you at least have to call me by my given name,” I remark as I step into the hallway. Her spark of laughter follows me down the hall and Susan meets me at the stairwell, showing me out with a careful smile. “Mrs Baker, please let me know if anything changes in the next day or so. I’m only just up the road.”

“Understood, Doctor. Thank you for coming this evening. It’s the first time I’ve heard her actually laugh since she got here,” Susan remarks and closes the door as I step into the yard.

I take a final look up towards her bedroom window, a quiet anxiousness filling me as I head towards home.

#lollercakes #anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #shirbert fanfiction #anne x gilbert #rating: mature

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ovalkettle2 · 3 years

Text

Lipo Fat Freeze.

Coolplas Physique Vacuum Cleaner Coolsculpting Cryolipolysis Charm Equipment

Content

Fat Freezing Frequently Asked Questions.

Publication Your Complimentary Assessment.

One of the most typical areas for treatment are top as well as lower abdomen, like manages, inner upper legs and bat wings. The therapy time is around one hr and besides the treated area feeling cold the procedure is pain-free. One of the most common adverse effects are inflammation as well as bruising in the area treated which vanishes in a week approximately. It takes around six weeks to two months for the complete effect to be seen, as the dead fats are eliminated from the body. The dead fat cells will certainly not be changed and will have been completely removed. It is based upon the concept that fat cells are more conveniently damaged by cooling down than skin cells.

Cryolipolysis Treatment Market Current Trends and Future Growth Analysis by Key Players – Caci Clinics Limited, La Belle Forme group, Rachel's Beauty World, Sky Salon, Wendy Saiet, Evolutions Clinic - Jumbo News

Posted: Wed, 13 Jan 2021 19:15:41 GMT [source]

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Fat Freezing Frequently Asked Questions.

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It eliminates the cells by utilizing a regulated cooling mechanism for a non-invasive reduction of fat down payments to reshape as well as contour the body. The cooling is targeted, so it causes the cell fatality of subcutaneous fat tissue without harming the bordering skin as well as cells.

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Cryolipolysis is a non-invasive fat removal procedure, frequently marketed as fat freezing. It is the cooling of subcutaneous fat cells, which generates lipolysis, the damaging down of the fat cells, without harming any of the surrounding cells or the skin. Cryolipolysis works to reduce fat in specific locations of the body as well as is most commonly used on the stomach as well as back. It was originally originated through a therapy known as CoolSculpting, which is a trademark of Zeltiq Aesthetics Ltd . There is hardly any healing time or any adverse effects related to cryolipolysis. Complying with the treatment, the fat breaks down over a duration of two to four months, leading to weight loss that shows up totally all-natural.

https://la-lipo.uk/northampton/ makes use of an effective vacuum cleaner which boosts the inflammatory feedback. Fat cells undertakes a localized cell death which occurs over a period of numerous months. In 2009 Colemanet al.reported results after cryolipolysis had actually been related to "enjoy deals with" in a single session to ten people. A session takes less than a hr as well as does not need any type of anaesthesia. With a solitary treatment a 20% reduction after two months and 25% decrease at six months in the fat layer as evaluated by ultrasound. The lipolytic impact of treatment happens within concerning 2 to four months. Fat freezing, technically known as cryolipolysis, is an FDA authorized non-invasive approach of freezing fat cells to do away with "love takes care of," a double chin and also various other undesirable bulges of fat.

Cryolipolysis prices will certainly depend upon the device made use of and the number of locations dealt with. The 360 ° border cooling modern technology transfers cooling down power reaching -11 ° C to the targeted treatment area to generate apoptosis and normally damage the fat cells without harmful bordering locations. Cryolipolysis Fat Freezing is medically proven, FDA accepted and also offers outstanding weight loss outcomes without the need of intrusive treatments like lipo. To start with, you will get an indepth consultation to completely comprehend your weight management goals. Before the procedure, anti freeze membranes are related to the target areas to stop any burns and heads are affixed with suction. The bodies lymphatic system then works to eliminate the dead fat cells. Over the following 4 to 6 weeks you will certainly start to see a reduction in fat deposits and a much more contoured form.

Harvard scientist conducted a collection of experiments in 2008 which showed that fat cooled down below body temperature level yet above cold will create a regional swelling which leads to cell fatality. Cryolipolysis was created to apply reduced temperatures to the tissue through thermal conduction. In order to avoid frostbite, a certain temperature level and also exposure are determined.

It is the cooling of subcutaneous fat cells, which generates lipolysis, the breaking down of the fat cells, without damaging any of the surrounding cells or the skin.

Cryolipolysis is a non-invasive fat elimination procedure, typically marketed as fat freezing.

Cryolipolysis functions to minimize fat in certain areas of the body and is most generally made use of on the tummy and also back.

Adhering to the treatment, the fat breaks down over a period of two to four months, causing fat loss that shows up entirely natural.

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