#exploratory surgery

[kn-1013]

Exploratory Surgery #4 - Whatever it takes

Summary: Sal tells Travis what really happens after death, and makes him promise something. Word Count: ~871 Rating: G Pairing: Sal/Travis Warnings: Existentialism, I guess?

A/N: I should clarify that Sal wasn't dead long enough for his soul to really do anything, and that this is his interpretation of events as a result.

========

“I just think- it’s so fucking stupid, man. It’s just stupid, and embarrassing. To, y’know, be like this.” Travis tugged at his earlobe nervously. The cool lake water did nothing to cool the hot embarrassment lighting him up inside.

He’d never told anyone about… Whatever that was before. It was simply too stupid to talk about even if he did have friends to talk about it with. His weird little habit of reading his Moomin books and pretending he was a little kid again. Back when his mother was still around, and Mary still smiled and he was still friends with Larry and Ash, and things were easier. They were still hard, but they were easier.

He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know how to talk about it, but he’d seen Sal last fourth of July, when he didn’t have his meds. No mask, vomiting on the forest floor, so disoriented he didn’t know where he was. He screamed like death and called for his momma. When his father finally found them, Sal crawled into his arms like a young child, begging for papa to save him.

Whatever was wrong with Travis, Sal must’ve had it, too. That’s why he was the first and only person Travis would ever talk to about it.

But the way Sal scoffed chilled his shame and set a cold pit in his stomach in its place. “Who fuckin’ cares man? It’s not like anything matters anyway.” Sal blew the smoke from his cigarette out through the holes in his mask.

“You’re not planning to kill yourself any time soon, are you?” Travis paused his nervous habit and side-eyed Sal. Sal would never normally say something so pessimistic, and that only made his pit worse.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I just mean…” He sighed. “This is all we get, you know? When we’re gone, we’re gone. So who cares what makes you happy?” Sal shrugged, turning to look at Travis with his head cocked to the side in that way Sal always did.

Travis didn’t know how he felt about that, being raised Christian. “I guess.” He said noncommittally.

“When my face thing happened, I coded twice. I was fully dead for a couple of minutes total. You know what I saw while I was gone?” Sal continued staring ahead at the sunset, bumping the ash off his cigarette and onto the ground.

So there was actually some weight to Sal’s whole ‘dead boy’ schtick… He grabbed his fish necklace loosely, intrigued by Sal’s experiences with the other side. Well, as long as they weren’t his bullshit ghost stories. “What?” He asked.

“A big, fat load of jack fuckin’ shit.” Travis watched his adam’s apple bobble in his throat as he swallowed. “No light, no dead grandma welcoming me to the end, no voice of God. Not even any cool ghost shit.” He paused. “But you know what? It wasn’t bad. It felt nice.” That last part felt a bit too tacked on to feel natural.

In spite of Sal’s claim, Travis couldn’t help but feel a bit harrowed by this information. What about all those people that claimed to see things on the other side? Were they just lying? How did he know who to believe now? Was Sal just saying it was nice to make him feel better about it? He didn’t know where to even begin answering any of these questions.

“So who fucking cares, man. Who cares if you like kid’s stuff, I like kid’s stuff too. I like kid’s stuff, and I dress like a girl and I’ll fuck chicks and dudes, and I still like the Spice Girls, even though they’ve really fallen off these days, and I like romcoms, and mayonnaise, and maple syrup on my scrambled eggs, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks because this is all we get. I’m not gonna spend it being embarrassed to be alive, and you shouldn’t either. You hear me?” Sal still didn’t look at him.

“I’m gonna do whatever the fuck it takes to be happy. Because I have to.” Sal’s voice was so serious it was shaking.

Sal had never gotten this intense before. Even when he was trying to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that ghosts were real, even when he got so angry at Travis’s father that he couldn’t think in a straight line, he never got even a modicum close to the amount of intensity that Travis was feeling right now. There was something behind those words that went deep, deeper than his DNA, deeper than the molecules that made up his body, and straight into the celestial threads that stitched his soul together.

Whatever it was, Travis wasn’t convinced he shouldn’t be worried. With a furrowed brow, he reached over the tiny gap between them and grabbed the other boy’s hand. Sal took another drag from his cigarette before squeezing his hand back, putting his head on Travis’s shoulder as they stared at the sunset.

“Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to be happy?” Sal said.

Travis exhaled harshly out of his nose with a grin. There he was, always looking out for Travis’s happiness.

“I promise.” Travis said.

[sonicstreak5344]

Subject is Sedated

“She’s asleep now. Let’s begin the surgery.”

“Yes Doctor.”

[tf2heritageposts]

okay i was going through poker night dialogue because i was trying to remember what heavy said his favorite drink was and

heavy: i am union! RED local 615

tycho: you guys unionized?

heavy: eh…was necessary for group medical

so apparently team fortress (or at least RED team) is unionized. for medical benefits despite medic existing? does medic actually charge them and they needed to unionize for insurance reasons????

[lsunstreakerl]

Okay, but don’t come telling me that if Max goes back to Red Bull and has a lump on his other wrist, Darkbull wouldn’t remove it just like Charles did (they would probably do it in a painless way for Max, BUT that’s not the point).

yeah you've got a point 😭

but it wouldn't be as... DIY as charles did it. and max definitely wouldn't accidentally wake up in the middle of it. (they've done procedures on him before- the other two trackers- so they know the right dosages for him. charles kind of had to guess)

[cherryriotcrash]

We absolutely got our backs blown out after Zayne’s partner episode ending.

[headedoutleft]

Got some bad news about my sibling’s health, and it’s taking all my willpower to not go lie in bed and cry

[kn-1013]

Exploratory Surgery #2

The Sally Face gang plus Travis all get high together.

Rating: T Word Count: ~1800 Pairing: None/Gen Warnings: Drug use and references to child abuse

A/N: this involves two of my very self-indulgent headcannons; that ashley has tourettes, and that sal has POTS. this doesn't change much about the characters but is some needed context.

========

“How’s it feel so far? Good?” Ashley turned her head to him and elbowed him gently, her eyes half-lidded and red. Her ear was pressed to the couch and there was a deeply inebriated grin on her face.

“I can confidently say I have never experienced this feeling before in my life.” Travis felt like he was going to start phasing through the overly soft couch he was planted on. He stared at the ceiling, his hands resting on his stomach, listening to the quiet Spice Girls song playing in the background. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t typically listen to a lot of contemporary music, or maybe it’s the weed, but right now, Saturday Night Divas was the most beautiful song he’s ever heard.

In this moment, he could feel everything; the fabric of every piece of clothing on his body, the thick and stale air of the Addison Apartments, the softness of the couch and how his weight shifted the stuffing inside, the way Ashley’s body next to him shifted the couch even further, the sensation of his bruised and scraped skin, the weight of his own body, he could even feel the Earth’s axis. But unlike other times this happened, it wasn’t overwhelming. It felt fine. Unifying, even. He could feel the way that everything was connected.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Ashley asked, probing him for symptoms of greening out.

“I have no idea.” Travis looked back to the ceiling. Whether it was good or bad just seemed so insignificant to him right now. Right now, it just was.

Based on the way the others always acted when they were high, he was expecting more of a euphoric feeling when he tried it for the first time, but it didn’t feel quite like that to him. It felt like a relaxed, yet weighted clarity had dawned onto him. He was putting into words concepts he was acutely aware of but never consciously recognized. It was heavy, evocative, thought-provoking, stimulating.

“I think that’s a good sign.” Sal said from his spot on the floor. He’d been laying down on his back on the floor for a while now, since he took a couple of huge hits from the bong and his blood pressure dropped so badly that he nearly passed out just sitting up on the couch. Larry was digging through his kitchen for chicken broth and pickle juice right now.

“Should you even be doing this with your heart thing?” Travis asked, noting the way his heart was pounding in his chest a little bit, but Sal blew raspberries from behind his mask. “It’s fiiiiine, probably. I haven’t had a heart attack yet. I just need a little bit of salt or something, then I’ll be at least half as normal as I usually am.” He snorted.

Travis didn’t really know what that meant, but if Sal knew what he was doing, then he probably shouldn’t argue too much. Travis was acutely aware of how that was a mildly unusual thought process for him to be having, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much. Right now, he just wanted to sit in the moment.

Larry walked back in with a mug of something hot with a straw in it in one hand, and a jar of pickles plus a plastic fork in the other. He kneeled down next to Sal to set them on the ground. Sal raised himself to his elbows to start getting up, but his arms and shoulders were visibly shaking from the effort, and he quickly plopped himself back down on the ground, snorting, and Ash quickly joined in.

“You have to feed me...” Sal said. “You have to feed me pickles like a baby bird.” Larry chortled highly. “Dude, I would do that for you… If you actually needed it.” He opened the jar of pickles and stabbed the fork inside uncoordinatedly a couple of times before pulling one out for Sal.

“Ew?” Ash said.

“But I do need it, Larry, I need it so badly. Feed my- my pickles, Laaaaaaaaaaryyyyyyyyyy-” His voice got progressively louder until Larry grabbed the plastic nose of his prosthetic and shook Sal’s face until he started laughing.

“Shut up, I feed you pickles. I do it every day.” Larry deadpanned, and Sal laughed. Without missing a beat, the blue-haired boy replied, “My beautiful pickle nurse saves me from the brink of death once more.”

Sal unbuckled the bottom straps of his prosthetic face so Larry could attempt to shove a pickle underneath it in what was probably not the most effective way to get this done.

Travis had a feeling that none of what they were saying was true, but he wouldn’t know. Maybe friends did pickle-nurse each other.

“This is proper procedure, right Neil?” Ashley asked, looking over to Neil on her other side. Todd was on the floor in between his knees, letting his boyfriend play with his hair.

“I taught Larry everything he knows about pickle-nursing.” Neil said, not even looking up from the little braids he’d been constructing and deconstructing repeatedly in Todd’s curly, red hair.

Todd seemed to stir for the first time in maybe thirty minutes. He wasn’t asleep, he’d just honked a little too much of that bobo and got himself a bit more blasted than he normally would’ve liked. His voice was quiet and words slurred together in a far-gone kind of fatigue as he asked, “What the fuck are we talking about?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, baby.” Neil said, petting his head softly. “Okay, I believe you.” Todd said, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll believe anything you tell me.”

“Travis, which is gayer: pickle nursing or hair salon?” Ash asked, gesturing from Sal and Larry to Todd and Neil.

Travis continued staring straight ahead, having absorbed himself in the conversation around him. He felt perfectly content right now, listening to this.

“Hellooooo, Travis?” Ash begun waving a hand in front of his face, and Travis started to snap himself back into reality.

“Huh? Whuh?” Travis sputtered and blinked dumbly, before he processed what had just happened. “Oh my gosh.” He covered his face in embarrassment and began laughing drunkenly, all high-pitched and lacking inhibition. He fell over onto the soft armrest of the couch as his knees lifted themselves up until his feet were off the ground.

“What, whaaat?” Ash asked, grabbing his shoulder and shaking.

Travis peered at Ashley through his fingers, and she could see parts of the stupid, inebriated grin on his face, and his squinted, reddened eyes.

“I thought I was listening to the radio. For like, the past ten minutes.” Travis’s voice was strained from trying not to laugh again, and he failed this fight after he stopped trying to communicate.

Ashley burst out laughing at his stoned-up mistake, and Larry began laughing hard enough that he needed to lean over, his forehead resting his weight over onto Sal’s trunk. Sal himself had spat warm chicken broth all over the inside of his mask, and he quickly turned over on his side, laughing and sputtering wetly on the ground, with Larry on top of him.

In the middle of the childish laughter, a deep and stinging melancholy had struck Travis.

It used to be a lot like this. Him, Larry, Ashley. All wound up in laughter at Travis’s old-fashioned home, or Ashley’s contemporary one. In Larry’s musty, turpentine-smelling basement bedroom. He remembered the smell of that wooden tree house Mr. Johnson had built before he disappeared. He wondered if the some of the glitter he’d spilled in the carpet of Ashley’s bedroom that one time was still there in its minuscule, yet untouchable glory.

Does Larry still have that scar on his elbow from that time he fell down the front steps of Travis’s house?

Travis’s ankle never stopped clicking when he turned it a certain way after he fell on it wrong from falling out of the tire swing in Ashley’s back yard.

Sometimes he still heard Ashley involuntarily repeating something rather mundane he’d said so many years ago with the same tone and inflection as when he’d first said it. It was like a snapshot of that moment existed within her permanently whenever her tics made her say ‘I got peanuts!’

It used to be a lot like this. Easy, fun contentment away from their parents. Away from expectations or prying eyes.

But then they got older. Life started getting complicated. They couldn’t dismiss their parents’ expectations anymore. Grades started becoming important. They had to think about their futures.

They just changed.

…No, that’s not what happened.

Travis changed.

And he didn’t just change out of nowhere, he was made to change, molded into what he was now through closed fists and backhands. Through hair brushes and belts, buckle-side first. Empty locked closets and physical restraint.

All at the hands of his father, spitting verses of the holy book like venom.

His father took him like clay and Travis let him, until he became so deformed by that tireless anger that he couldn’t look his reflection in the eye anymore. Because when he looked into those angry brown irises, he found himself consumed wholly by his father’s.

…And now they were here, where Travis was pausing in the middle of a laugh with people who used to have reasons to care about him, letting that old, empty ache spread further within his heart.

As they continued to laugh, and as the laughter died down back into conversation, he found himself falling quiet again. The way they spoke so naturally without him intervening only served to remind him that he didn’t belong here anymore. Maybe he never did.

Travis’s eyes made their way back to the point where the ceiling met the top of the wall as he leaned back into the couch, letting the soft, old cushions absorb his weight and sink his body in.

Nothing he could say in this conversation would be as funny or as useful as something one of their actual friends had to say, and he knew that. He knew that he was incredibly out of place here, what with all of the inside jokes and referenced memories he was missing. The way that they seemed to stop trying to include him as he got quieter and quieter again.

He internally begged someone outside his head to bring him back, to want him, to even notice him, but he wouldn't ask out loud, and so it never happened.

So he sat back on the couch, feeling the weight of everything on his skin, everything in his body, the unifying feeling of his own gravity, and he tried to be content with what he could get as he quietly listened to the radio.

[mariska]

me waking up on a day where i have a dr's/medical appointment of any kind and remembering that i do indeed have a medical appointment i have to go to

[sientifiksiameez]

Idk who needs to hear this, but if you're ever in central Oklahoma and need to go to the hospital do NOT go to the Oklahoma University one. I hear Hillcrest in Tulsa is also terrible but OU very nearly killed my best friend and they just had to check into a different hospital to fix everything they fucked up.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Six Questions (raphael x tav, pt 8)

Tw: Raphael is his own warning, no sex though

stg I'm doing some Gortav next, just had to write enough to shut Raphael up. mf thinks he's special enough to get two chapters at a time

-------------------------------------------------

Wyll left, thanking her in the morning and saying briefly that she'd given him much to think about.

The days kept passing. Raphael's visits started happening weekly, and stopped involving her mouth. But she had other things to think about, and when he left her attention drifted to anything else she could lay it on.

Spring was nearly here, but the wind was still chilly, and so Tav wrapped the bearskin cloak around herself.

She'd made it ten years ago...needing a mindless task to occupy her time while she decided what to do, after finding her two loves dead. She'd sat in camp, cleaning Halsin's bloody pelt, preparing it, until it was ready. She didn't dare to use it as a rug--that felt too disrespectful.

In the end she'd made a cloak out of it, but after marrying Gortash she'd hidden it away--feeling almost like his dead eyes would be on her at every worst possible moment.

And then she'd started to love Gortash, and...

...she wrapped the cloak more tightly and moved out the door, activating the spell of Disguise Self. Had it not been for the vitiligo she might have been able to pass unnoticed, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

What are you so afraid of?

"Everything," Tav whispered under her breath. She only went because she was relatively certain she could avoid seeing Halsin. And given the fading winter, he might sleep more than usual. Assuming he didn't simply hibernate the entire time in his bear shape.

It would be better not to see him before the Goblin Camp.

Or not at all?

She swallowed.

(The voices belonged to Raphael now)

Tav had needed to see what the druids might have to trade in the way of clothes and metal, and so had chanced the journey. Cald was growing all the time, and given how close the nautiloid must be to crashing...she wanted to be ready for it.

The Disguise Self spell changed her appearance to that of a middle-aged human woman, the same one she'd used for any trips too far from her home that she'd made in the past. She wasn't the sorrowful Tav, she was the reclusive and somewhat eccentric druid of the swamp, who favored spending more time in nature than with others.

It couldn't be long, she thought, when they let her through. Not long at all. She'd forgotten exactly what month it had been, but certainly all the snow had melted by then. It had been...warm. Mid-spring, maybe summer?

Six years she'd waited, and now it was nearly upon her--everything, again.

Deep breath.

A little bird moved too close; landed on her shoulder.

Oh! Apologies. I thought you were someone else. You smelled of--ah, so sorry.

And just as quickly, the bird was gone.

She met with two of the shopkeepers, providing some potions for healing various things, and getting in exchange some linen bandages, a few robes Cald's size, and--she grabbed it quickly--a piece of Infernal Iron. A visit to the smith netted her a few pieces of twisted metal, not good for swords or shields, but perhaps handy for other projects. She smiled at the thought as she looked at them. Cald could superheat them with his sparks, and adjust them into whatever shape he needed. No metal was entirely useless, everything--

Looking down at the handful of scrap metal, Tav hadn't been looking at the path ahead. She ran right into someone--stumbled back, and started apologizing. "I'm so sorry, I--I wasn't paying attention, it's not that I didn't see you there, it's just that--"

"Quite alright." A soft tone, a gentle laugh.

Don't look up.

"I...I...was just in a hurry, was all."

"On such a fine day as this?"

Halsin--

HalsinhalsinhalsinhalsinhalsinHALSIN

"I merely wanted to return home, as...as...nice as it is to see other druids. It's cold, true, but nothing I can't handle."

She wanted to run, to run until this pain was GONE, to run until she was hollow and beyond the regret that filled every fiber of her being. The perverseness of wearing the very hide of the man speaking to her was not lost on her, and she wished for a moment that the earth would take mercy upon her and swallow her whole.

"More a lover of solitude, eh? I can't say I disagree with the idea. Me...there are weeks I won't come back here at all, so consumed am I with my bearish shape."

Tav swallowed.

"Not so different from my own preference, then. I spend a fair amount of time as an owlbear...and occasionally I wonder if the day will come when I decided not to return to this shape."

That was an idea, she thought. When Cald was grown, when she no longer had to worry for his safety--

Do you truly believe that day will come, little mouse?

She took a step, and Halsin stopped her with a touch at her shoulder.

Only his thumb touched her skin, but it was enough.

(it was like being burned by a brand, it left pain behind)

He seemed to breathe deeply before speaking again. "You're pale. Are you unwell?"

"No," Tav lied, "Merely...eager to move south again. I find the swamps an easy place to gain solitude."

"Ah...I see." The smile in his voice, she could practically hear it. See it, in her mind's eye, even. "I've heard there's another resident of the area though...not the hag, of course, the--"

"The priestess of Ilmater. I've...seen her before," Tav lied. "She seeks solitude as well, though...I know not why."

"Perhaps to protect her child. I've heard they're drow, and sadly...the world is not often kind to them on the surface, Seldarine or not. Prejudice is a difficult thing to battle when one is an adult, but as a child..."

He breathed deeply again, and looked to the road.

"At any rate, I must be off. I'm hoping to investigate a temple nearby. Goblins have overrun it, and I wish to gauge the extent of their numbers."

"I've seen them," she said quickly, "You should be careful, if you intend to approach as a bear. Those little imps can swarm you in a hurry...and it would be a shame for the Emerald Grove to lose their Archdruid."

"Yet danger of this kind cannot be ignored. I appreciate the warning, however, I am certain that regardless of what happens, all will be well. All I can do is trust in the Oak Father's will, and do my best."

Does he remember? No. No, he couldn't, he'd have...

Run. She needed to run. She needed to get out of here now.

"Good to speak to you then, miss--?"

Tav thought for a moment, and struggled to come up with a name. When she finally thought of one she added, "Apologies, I...spend enough time alone that I often don't think of my name. It's...Deirdre."

"Farewell, Deirdre."

Halsin left, and the relief she'd hoped for when she'd managed not to meet his eyes the entire time did not appear.

"Farewell."

--------------------------------------

She'd gone back to the waypoint, and then home, and practically dropped to the ground the instant she was back.

Halsin.

She'd seen him. He'd touched her, that was--

You keep swearing you won't indulge these feelings...and really, that's the best way.

If she never loved him, it would not hurt so much to lose him, if he died.

Tav stood, gathered her things, and headed for the Teahouse.

But then, she'd thought that about Gortash, hadn't she? She'd married him because he was despicable, and that bedheaded Bane-worshipper had managed to make her love him anyway.

At least, she thought bitterly, There is one man above all too heinous for even me to--

She opened the door, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Speak of the devil...

At her table sat Raphael, once more indulging in the tea she'd left out.

"You've kept me waiting," he replied with only a slight edge in his voice.

"I was--out," Tav replied, gesturing briefly with the bags she was carrying. "The nautiloud will fall soon, and I--wanted to be prepared."

After putting the bags aside, she looked back up.

"That disguise doesn't at all suit you, mouse. Why bother with it?" he gestured over her, waved a hand--and the disguise dropped, leaving her as she had always been.

"I made a trip to the Emerald Grove, and...wished not to attract attention, should--"

"Should your bear be there," Raphael finished for her.

"He's--"

She meant to say 'he's not my bear', but she found herself looking away, jaw tensing, before looking back.

"I prefer to keep it so everyone meets as they should."

He laughed. "You could not be more transparent, my dear. Tell the truth. You were afraid he might be the one to remember, weren't you?"

Tav would have stayed quiet if she were able, but she spoke automatically, "I was."

Raphael tutted at her. "One would think that the possibility would make you HAPPY. Imagine it...he sees your mottled face, and immediately takes you to bed. Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"If anything, I've told you frequently. I plan to avoid any--any--entanglements, if I can help it. And not--" She tried to keep her tone polite, respectful, deferential, despite what she was about to say, "Not out of some sense of fidelity to--to you."

"Of course not. You're simply trying not to get your heart broken. And as I have told you frequently, if you seek one you will not lose to a madwoman's blade, all you need do is look to the man before you."

Tav swallowed.

"You don't mean a word of that," she replied, "And even if I were--to view such a proposition favorably, it wouldn't bode well for you. That--that isn't a THREAT. I've simply noticed that the men I take into my bed..."

She took the bearskin cloak off and hung it up.

"Such melancholy thoughts, mouse, will not aid you in your quest at all. Sit. Sit down, and eat."

Tav approached the table, now laden out with a teatime meal.

Scones, sandwiches, lemon curd, and--

"Battenberg cake? I'm sure Cald would enjoy that."

"This treat is only for you, mouse. The boy is busy at his workbench." Raphael paused, "So we shall not be disturbed."

Joy.

For several minutes he let Tav eat in silence, but when she finished a second plate he spoke up.

"I have in mind...something of a game."

"That sounds ominous, coming from you." She finished the last of a scone, and managed not to flinch when he reached up to wipe a bit of lemon curd off her lips.

"Regardless of your intent, I'm certain you would not want to owe...too much time on your debt. You'll be quite busy handling the matter of the Absolute and the Dead Three...and an excess of my presence could cause...inconvenient questions."

How GENEROUS of you, Tav thought sarcastically, To be so concerned with my reputation.

"So I propose a game of questions, to give you the opportunity to cut more time from your debt."

"Hearing 'opportunity' makes me think there is the distinct chance of gaining time, too."

Raphael chuckled. "That is why you are my favorite client, mouse. You're smarter than the average debtor. But you're right. I propose to ask you six questions...and for each one you answer honestly, I will cut ten minutes from your debt. Decline to answer, and you will gain ten instead. Lie to me, and you will gain thirty."

If she answered them all--an hour. An entire hour cut from the debt, without having to suffer his attentions on her knees another fifteen times, or a session with Haarlep, or worry about being caught with him by anyone at camp later on.

But at the same time...suppose I decline to answer them all...I could end up back at the halfway point.

She imagined being caught on her knees with him. The walk of shame, with all those eyes on her.

How utterly disgusted they'd all be with her.

"Would I be able to quit the game?"

"Yes, but at, let's say...a five minute penalty."

He could fit two sessions into that...

The opportunity to erase time from the debt was--tempting. Too tempting to pass up. What more could he possibly wring out of her with some questions that he hadn't already?

"Fine," she said. "Ask your questions."

Raphael gave an expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "Let us begin with your most recent love. Tell me, mouse -- how did your lordly husband die? Be specific."

Tav swallowed, and shut her eyes. She'd tried not to think about it, like she'd done with so much else of late.

"He didn't. I left him..."

She opened her eyes.

"Only one person could come with me. Him, or...or my son. And..."

Tav took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. No relief from closing her eyes--when she shut them, memory flooded her vision with images of Gortash. Still bleeding from Orin's madder than usual attack, burned from Cazador's attack--

"And you chose to take your son. Ever the prideful mother."

"No," Tav replied quickly. "No, E--Gortash made that decision."

Art thou certain?

Stop, she pleaded with her mind, Please, stop reminding me of this!

Raphael raised a brow, and sipped from his teacup.

"Quite the surprise. He was always a selfish sort."

He was a better man than you'll ever be, Tav thought angrily. But she schooled her face. Kept it calm, shoved the pain back.

"Very good, mouse. Ten minutes cut. Now..." Raphael looked over the rim of the cup at her. "One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds."

"Next question," she said quickly. "I'm sure you have places to be...other deals to make."

"You can't rush work like mine, my dear. Now for my next question..." he added a cube of sugar to the tea, and stirred at the cup until it dissolved. "Which death weighs heaviest on you, and why?"

Tav looked away, and clenched at her knees beneath the table. Whether Raphael noticed that, or she'd lost control of her expression didn't matter. What did was that he saw some change, and pounced on her for it.

"You could always decline to answer, mouse."

She wanted to.

Gods, how she wanted to.

But those ten minutes...ten minutes of not having to kneel before him, or to be beneath him...

"Astarion's, because..." She felt a pain in her chest, like the weight of holding everything back was becoming too much. She told it to get its act together and went on, "He asked to go with me during my trip to--the House of Hope. And I said no."

She'd hated to see Astarion so disappointed...she'd promised to let him feed from her that night, when she returned.

But he would die before the night was out. Not that Halsin and Gortash's deaths hadn't hurt like the hells, but...those felt less her fault. Astarion had ASKED...if she'd only taken HIM with her.

If only, if only.

"One hour, thirty seven minutes, twenty-two seconds."

Twenty minutes cut. She could stop now and gain only another five minutes.

But the possibility of more time being cut, despite--

"What made you desperate enough to marry Gortash?"

"You don't remember? I...well...I suppose not, you, you died, and..." Tav took a shaky breath, bit her tongue for a second, and went on. "K...the hammer was swung down onto your head and it...it shattered like glass. It wasn't supposed to do that. Without the hammer, and without knowing what to do to control the elder brain, we...had to make an alliance. That was one of the conditions he set."

Another chuckle.

"And when the little lord saw a dainty before him, he could not help but gobble it up, I suppose. One hour, twenty seven minutes, twenty-two seconds. Do you wish to stop yet?"

"No," Tav lied.

She sipped quietly at her own cup of tea, trying not to meet Raphael's eyes. Every question was a ram to the gate of her mind, striking, weakening it. She knew better than to keep going, but she feared more what might happen if she kept letting him do as he liked with her body.

How many more times could she bear his attention before he shattered her entirely?

"Three more questions, then. Let's see, now...ah, yes. Why have you not told the boy whose son he is?"

The clench against her knees grew painful, even through her dress. But Tav managed to answer.

"What good would that do when his father doesn't remember us? I--can't risk leaving to try, either. He'd never believe me. I'll do it...later on. But not now."

"Ease your mind, my dear. You know-- you know, I COULD fix that for you."

"No," Tav replied automatically.

"One hour, seventeen minutes, twenty-two seconds."

Down forty minutes. Forty minutes she wouldn't have to listen to him talk at her. Forty minutes she wouldn't have to wonder what fresh sexual hell awaited her at his hands, whether there or at the boudoir.

Two more questions.

"What do you fear most from me?"

Damn it all.

"I decline to answer."

She wouldn't hand him THAT so easily. How stupid did he really think her?

"Smart decision, Tav," Raphael smirked at her. "Back up to one hour, twenty seven minutes, twenty-two seconds, however."

"Telling you the answer to that would be tantamount to giving you the Crown itself."

"Really now..."

Another chuckle, another sip of tea.

She clenched her hands into fists, ignoring the stinging pain of her nails against her skin.

"One final question, then," Tav replied. "I assume you will want to make it a good one."

"So long as you promise to answer it," Raphael replied, "I'll toss you an extra minute of time simply for an extensive answer, if you do."

She said nothing. A minute was a minute, but his question might--

"When you need to soothe your troubled mind where do you turn? Faith? The bottom of a bottle? Or perhaps...you indulge in fantasies of flesh, and convince yourself that your hands belong to that foolish husband, or--"

She realized her hands were wet, and she gave a glance down, noting--blood.

Tav took a deep breath. "Faith. I pray to Ilmater for the strength to endure everything that comes my way. And I don't drink, I'd rather not with my son in the house. And...I avoid sex--of any kind--when possible."

"Mmm." Raphael murmured, and drained the rest of his tea. "I thought otherwise, you see, because I note that you kept Haarlep's bottle."

She had the feeling she'd made a grave mistake, from the way those devil-dark eyes flashed at her, and the way his mouth lifted into the predatory grin she'd learned to fear.

"Don't feel as though you must stretch the remains of it out, mouse. I'm certain Haarlep would be more than willing to refill it for you...provided there's appropriate stimulation."

"As I said," Tav replied, in a voice that was beginning to shake, "I have no need of it myself."

A huff.

"You lie to yourself so EASILY, my dear, it's a wonder you can keep anything straight. A pity I've run through my questions....I would DEARLY love to know, after all...will you find it so easy to lie your vampire and bear?"

There was a pause, and Raphael gave a strange little laugh.

"Well, at any rate, I must be going. Let me see, I forgot to take into account our last few trysts, so...fifty minutes, and twenty-two seconds. Expect to see me soon."

A second later he was gone.

Then, and only then, did Tav reach for a napkin to clean the blood from her hands.

[robinsnest2111]

sending you strength to get through everything bad you have to face and hope your father recovers <3

thank you, bestie 😭💕

it just fucks with my brain so much the way my father always talks about how he could die any day, and how his chances of survival really are slimmer than slim, even if the surgery will be successful...

[sneef-to-a-snorf-fight]

little vent abt medical shit

hhhhhhh i’m so sick of not knowing my diagnosis. like. is it something that can be fixed? or is it a chronic illness? should i get a cane so i can minimize the pain and fatigue and stabilize myself when i’m lightheaded and nauseous? and help me get to the bathroom when i’m near bedridden? or can i just like. take a pill and oop it’s gone forever you’re better now. this same shit happened last year with the chronic appendicitis. that i didn’t know was appendicitis for the first 2 months. that doctors came up with tons of tests and possible diagnoses that were all negative until i was finally hospitalized. that the surgeon told me was impossible to remove until i got a competent surgeon 3 months later who took it out easy. i wish doctors were better and actually listened and could order the right tests the first time and insurance companies stop canceling tests without telling you because they think it’s not essential and the people conducting the tests actually gave a shit about getting conclusive results. aghhhhhhh. anyway next appointment is in a week and i’m going to stop minimizing how much this is affecting me.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

well can i try some exploratory surgery on u to find the bomb anyway. i wont put another one in i swear

okay 💖 yay 💖

[evieville]

I think it's unfair that every time we have inexplicable pain I can't cut it open and start digging around

[fortunehospital6]

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[kn-1013]

Exploratory Surgery #1

Sal notices that Travis is a bit space-y like he is, but it's a bit different.

Rating: E Word count: A thousand and something Pairing: None/Gen Warnings: Use of homophobic slurs

A/N: welcome to my new series called exploratory surgery. idk how many more of these i'll post but the general concept of this series will be me posting plot bunnies, darlings or drabbles that i can't/won't/shouldn't otherwise put into full fics, or they just haven't become full fics yet. you can think of them like 'sketches' in the same way that someone posts art sketches or whatever. idk i haven't slept, this one's vaguely about a niche headcannon i have for travis being able to see ghosts. please enjoy, or don't

========

It wasn’t unusual for Sal to be found staring off into the distance about something, what with the ADD diagnosis, chronic dissociation, and now these new episodes, where he’s getting fucking visions from god or something. His friends had started calling him Space-y Face because of how often they had to wave a hand in front of him to get his attention. ‘Hey, Earth to Sally!’ It was a whole thing.

That’s why he noticed that Travis seemed to have the same problem.

Some teachers seemed like they didn’t want to call out Sal for spacing out, they seemed reluctant to want to put too much attention on him, which was kind of annoying when he actually wanted to pay attention in class, because then he had to get his notes from other people or ask questions after. At least he could kind of appreciate the thought.

But they weren’t afraid to call out Travis when he was staring out the window, and make him answer questions in front of the whole class when he wasn’t paying attention. Considering he was a known problem child, it seemed like some kind of sadistic humiliation tactic to try and push him back in line or to punish him for being such an asshole, or maybe even because they simply didn’t like him, and they used him as some kind of scapegoat. Some teachers certainly hated their lives enough to do that.

Though, there was one thing that kept bugging Sal.

When Sal zoned out, he could sometimes be like a mola-mola fish, floating through the ocean, going wherever the current takes him without a second thought, or even a first one. Eyes visibly unfocused, blinking slowly, speaking slowly, mouth sometimes left agape if he wasn’t talking, (which made him glad he wore a mask, because he sure looked stupid like that). The entire time, it would kind of feel like he was moving backwards through a brick wall; it was hard to think or move, and everything felt so distant. On really bad days, it honestly felt like he took something, his head was so fuzzy.

Other times, he could be like a possum playing dead: completely frozen. Hours could pass that left his body sore and aching, where he hadn’t moved a muscle or thunk a single thought. That happened a lot around August 16th.

Either way, the big thing about Sal’s zoning out, according to how Todd’s described it, is that he seems incredibly distant and unfocused. It looks like he’s ‘inside’, as he described it—inside his own head.

Travis wasn’t like that at all, in Sal’s observations. When he stared off in the distance, it was like he was looking at something far away, even when he was staring at an empty corner. When the teachers called him out, he sometimes did some kind of double take, or his eyes kept drifting back into the spot he was staring at. He didn’t seem like he was inside his head, he seemed like he was looking at something that was right there, but Sal couldn’t really be sure what.

It reminded him a lot of whenever Gizmo started staring randomly into the distance, like he was seeing something nobody else could. He always wondered if animals could see ghosts.

Now he was wondering if Travis could, especially with the way he was currently staring at that roadkill.

Sal had been going for a walk around town on a Saturday afternoon and had ended up in a nicer part of town, the part that Ashley lived in. He was thinking about stopping by to hang out with her, when he spotted Travis, who also lived in this area.

Travis was across the street from him, on the other sidewalk. He was completely frozen, staring straight down at a dead cat near the curb.

Sal decided he felt like being a pest that day, so he walked across the street nonchalantly to over just behind Travis, who continued staring at the ground.

His gaze, shifted near his feet as Sal began approaching, but Sal’s mouth moved before he could process it, and his subsequent greeting startled Travis out of whatever daydream he was having about that dead cat.

“Hey, Travis, what’cha lookin’ at?” Sal said, almost instantly regretting it. He should’ve waited a bit longer to see what was going to happen next.

Travis jumped hard enough that his hair seemed to stand on end for a second, before he realized it was just Sal. Then he slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

“What do you want?” He spat.

“Saw you blankly staring at a dead cat for no reason, thought I’d see what the fuss was about.” Sal tilted his head to the side curiously. “You know that cat or something?”

“No, never seen it before.” Travis’s voice was cold and bland.

There was a beat of silence, where Sal was staring directly at Travis. Silences like this tend to make people uncomfortable, and often makes them volunteer information they wouldn’t have normally simply by being asked. It was one of Sal’s special tactics for extracting information from other people, and it typically worked especially well, because most people already found Sal’s presence discomforting.

“Anyways, bye.” Travis began walking away.

Travis was weird though, it didn’t always work on him.

Sal caught up behind him, patting him on the back of the shoulder to get his attention again.

“You stare at stuff a lot, you know that?” Sal said, walking beside him.

Travis walked faster. “What, are you stalking me? Freak?”

“Is that a question?” Sal cocked his head to the side, appearing nonchalant as his legs struggled to keep up with Travis’s long strides.

“You’re a freak, no question about it.” Travis huffed, adjusting his book bag irritatedly and turning his head.

“It’s not hard to notice things about other people if you just pay attention. You can learn a lot about people by just watching them.” Sal’s voice was calm, factual, as if it were normal to just watch people all the time.

Travis had felt dread before, but not quite like when Sal had finished letting that sentence out of his mouth. Sal was about to describe some of his unconscious behaviors, and it was going to make him deeply uncomfortable, and there was nothing he could do about it, because Sal seemed to just love making him as uncomfortable as possible in every imaginable situation. That blue haired faggot just had to stick his plastic nose in everything.

“Like, you read a lot—like a lot, a lot. You’re ambidextrous, but I’ll bet you’re naturally right-handed because that’s the hand you punch with. You’re not very familiar with computers, and you like to be outside, but you’re not really jock levels of athletic, so I think you kind of just hang out there, usually in trees, 'cuz of the callouses on your hands. You ever been hiking? You might like it.” Sal’s voice was way too cheery and overall normal to be saying these things. Nobody knew these things about Travis, because nobody paid attention to him. They all hated him, because he was an asshole, and that was kind of the point.

The fact that Sal could just swoop in and watch him like a hawk when he wasn’t paying attention and learn all these things about him without even talking to him was terrifying in the same way he was terrified of God.

Travis recoiled harshly. “Ugh! You’re such a creep! Don’t watch me like that, what’s wrong with you?”

“What, it’s a bad thing to pay attention to your friends?” Sal sounded a bit disappointed. After that, he was disappointed? Over what? That Travis didn’t like being watched? He sure hoped this was just God working in mysterious ways somehow, because he hated this.

“I’m not your friend, you fucking stalker. Leave me alone.” He began to walk faster, and Sal started to trail behind. “To be fair, I’ve kind of just been seeing you around for a couple of years, now. I’m not even paying that much attention to you.” Sal shrugged, shortly before tripping on something on the pavement.

“That doesn’t make it much better, you fucking weirdo. Stop watching me!” Travis began racing back to his house, his face burning red at how much Sal had seemed to learn from him when he wasn’t even trying that hard. What would happen if he tried much harder? He really needed to stay away from this guy.

Sal gracefully recovered from his trip and stared off at Travis’s disappearing form, head cocked to the side. He just didn’t quite get that guy.

But boy, did he want to.