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A month. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but long enough. Too long, really, for Edward to be forced into this hell.

The death of General Hughes must have been the catalyst. Sofia remembered the week following the funeral, she had noticed the changes in Mustang, his behavior and demeanor shifting slightly. But she had done nothing about it, had chalked it up to simple grief and moved on.

How foolish she was.

But Mustang was another matter, another day, that moment she needed to focus on the boy in front of her. She had a nagging feeling she was still missing something.

“Is letting him use you sexually the only only part of this... deal? Does he abuse you physically or verbally? Is there anything else about the situation I should know?”

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝

♙ (♄ ↣ ☉)

Edward can feel the room grow colder around him, as if the air itself is chilled with horror at his words. For several long moments, he does nothing more than stare at his mismatched hands, now intertwined between his legs as he grips the edge of the seat. Eventually, however, he is startled from this by a whispered curse from the woman seated opposite. Looking up, he watches the doctor, but remains silent until she finally asks him a tremulous question.

He doesn’t even think about lying.

    “A month? Two, on the outset. It…” He clears his throat. “It started not that long after Brigadier General Hughes… after he died.” Because that’s what had done it, had pushed the colonel over whatever precipice that had led him to use such cruel and drastic measures against the young prodigy.

One grounding breath after another prepares the boy for Dr. Scherler’s next question.

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Relief was the first thing Dr. Scherler felt, because maybe (finally) she would be getting some answers. But as the boy continued, that relief slowly turned to dread.

Suspicion doesn’t equal knowledge, and even though Dr. Scherler had had some inkling, it didn’t make the truth any less painful to hear.

It felt like a punch to the gut. That this boy, who had already been through so much, was now forced to endure this. It made her blood boil. She wanted- she didn’t know what she wanted, though Mustang’s head mounted on a pike was fairly high on the list. (Some part of her wished to pull the blond into a hug, to make promises she couldn’t keep of never letting Mustang touch him again, to tell him it would all be okay. She did none of those things)

The anger and turmoil raged silently within her, but, just for a second, her composure slipped.

“Damn.”

She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes shut tight. She didn’t want Edward to see the anger there, didn’t want him to think it was directed at him.

Head still bowed, she forced the question from her lips, “How long?“ A shaky breath in, and she raised her head to look Edward in the eye.

“How long has he been doing this to you?”

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

He listens intently, picking apart every word of Dr. Scherler’s in his brain in search of some indication of deceit. Upon finding none, however, he is forced to believe that she speaks truthfully. But he still hesitates a good measure before sinking, almost in defeat, back into his chair.

Remaining tense, and not convinced that talking about this with a relative stranger will help anything, Edward searches for a place to begin.

    “…He is. —hurting me, I mean.” It’s like he has to drag each and every word out of a deep pit, into which he has tried to cram all of his pain and emotions so that no one (especially Al) will see them. But that tactic has clearly failed with Dr. Scherler. “He finds information in places I can’t go — about research that’s important to me — and then he blackmails me with it. In order to get that research, he makes me…” The thought of saying it bluntly makes him gag momentarily, so he tries again, choosing a euphemism. “I have to… let him have his way… with me.”

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

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She watched as he brought his left arm closer to himself, saw the taut lines of his body. Dr. Scherler had showed her hand and now Edward was nervous and tense. But her outburst had gotten through to him, now all he needed was reassurance.

“I promise you, nothing you say to me gets repeated or reported. Doctor-Patient confidentiality. Even if I wanted to, I can’t share any information about our sessions with an outside party without your express permission.” Which meant even if she could get some answers or evidence, she still couldn’t report Mustang for what he’d done unless Edward allowed her. Which, judging by his reluctance to even discuss the situation with her privately, was unlikely to happen.

“And I would never put you at risk by telling Mustang what you’ve told me. Even if he was legally privy to this information, I would do my best to protect you.”

She gestured to the chair, hoping to coax the boy into sitting down again. “I won’t let him hurt you. I promised I would help you and I intend to keep that promise.”

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

He hadn’t expected her to snap back at him, and the surprise clamps his mouth shut. When she mentions his scars, though, he grips his left forearm protectively, as if she had threatened to take it away from him.

In all honesty, though, he prefers this demeanor to her coddling from before. At least now she’s being honest about what she knows of the situation (though she still most definitely knows too much for Edward to feel comfortable just yet). Eventually, Dr. Scherler gets through her bit and delivers an ultimatum of sorts to the boy. Either he can leave and continue to hide in emotional isolation, or he can stay and confide in professed secrecy.

    “…You’re sure he won’t find out what I say? Absolutely certain? If he finds out… I’m as good as dead.” He’s risking a lot by saying even that much.

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

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Dr. Scherler knew better than to push too hard, knew better than to let her emotions interfere with her work. But in that moment, her near infinite patience finally ran out, and she snapped.

“Liar. How blind do you think I am? Do you think I can’t see how you flinch at loud noises, or how jumpy you get when Mustang is near? Or that I can’t easily tell that your hands are shaking out of fear, not anger. Do you think I haven’t noticed the scars on your arm?

“I read people for a living, did you expect me to be fooled by that pathetic lie?”

She wanted to jump to her feet, to be on the same level with Edward, but she knew that was a bad idea. They wouldn’t be on the same level, even with Dr. Scherler’s average stature she was still significantly taller than the diminutive alchemist. Her standing could be seen as a threat, or remind him too much of Colonel Mustang. Edward needed to believe he had some control of the situation.

“Whatever Mustang is doing to you, it’s killing you. I know he’s hurting you, and I have my suspicions about how. Suspicions I really, really hope are wrong. But if you want to run, fine. Be my guest. I’ve always left the door open for you, I know how much you hate feeling trapped.

"Just know, that if you stay, if you tell me what he’s been doing to you, that I promise you will have my full protection. I will do whatever is in my power to help you through this. You don’t need to hide this from me. Anything you say to me is said in confidence. None of this reaches Mustang.”

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

Edward isn’t sure which is aggravating him more: Dr. Scherler’s words or her tone. They’re both so… patronizing, as if she believes she can really understand him. What gall; that’s just a cheap trick shrinks pull in order to get their clients to spill their guts and answer every leading question, isn’t it?

    “Don’t!” The outcry forces its way from his throat when the therapist lists his name among the others. “Don’t talk about Hughes, okay? Just don’t.” His breathing is agitated at the simple mention of the parted brigadier general. The thought of the kind, albeit nosy man being around today and getting wind of what has been taking place between Mustang and Ed— It’s almost enough to make him lose his composure, but he clings to it for dear life, even as he grips the arms of his chair. “You’re only gonna pester me about how I feel about him, how I’m handling his death, and that’s none of your fuckin’ business. Hell, not one iota of any of this is your fuckin’ business!”

Anger propels the boy to his feet, despite faintly trembling legs. Knowing that he can’t afford for anything less than an impeccable account of dealings to reach Mustang’s ears from this inquiry, Edward tries to get the words out. “Colonel Mustang is—” He has to swallow in order to steady himself there. And all the things he could say about his commander choke him in that moment. But, at last, he finishes: “—very good to me.” Having said it both relieves him and leaves him feeling a peck nauseous, but at least now it’s on the record. “Now, can I go, or are you gonna tie me to the chair so that you can interrogate me more?”

[ ♙ ◎ ♙ ]

[amestriantherapy-blog-blog-blog]

((I know I’ve been super inactive on here recently and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been having a lot of mental and physical problems recently, mainly that I can’t focus on anything and I still can’t see very well. So this blog is going to continue being kinda slow for the time being, because it takes a lot of brainpower to write these threads and I just don’t have that kind of mental capacity right now.

I really, really hate to do this, but I am going to drop most of my current threads. Basically everything except my ongoing thread with fullmettle is getting dropped. With my focus problem I just can’t concentrate on writing very well, and having all of my other threads gathering dust in my drafts is stressing me out.

If you still want to rp with me you can find me at my blog for Maes and Gracia over at the-hughes-family. And if you want to do something with Dr. Scherler then talk to me ooc about it and I’ll see what I can do.

Again, I’m very sorry about the inactivity. Thanks for sticking with me so far.))

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Turning to face her was good, allowed her to judge his reactions better. His glare was on the verge of defiance, but there was something off about it. As though he was holding back.

“Everyone needs help, Edward. Even if they refuse to admit it.”

His comment gave her pause. Jaded and selfish? Edward spoke as though he had extensive personal experience. Had he confided in someone before? If he had then it obviously didn’t go very well. If Edward’s trust issues ran that deep, then it would be harder than Dr. Scherler had anticipated to get him to open up.

“I’m only asking because I’m worried about you. We all are. You have people who care about you. Lieutenant Hawkeye, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Alphonse, none of them want to see you suffer.” She met his eyes, her voice filled with concern. “If Colonel Mustang is hurting you, or forcing you to do something you don’t want to do, then I need you to tell me. I can’t do anything about it if I don’t know what’s going on.”

    Ed snorts at the woman’s stab at humor, but he does turn to look at her, as a sort of challenge. Eye contact won’t change anything; if anything, it’ll make him more determined not to give himself away.

"And you have the gall to think you can actually help me? Or that I need help, for that matter?”

    He doesn’t like the way she’s addressing him, as if she already knows things, but wants to make him admit to them anyway. “Funny thing, most people who say they won’t judge you end up doing it anyway once they hear certain things. Human beings are just jaded that way. Jaded and selfish.”

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There’s no mistaking that flinch. Dr. Scherler knew she asked the right question. She had been watching Edward’s interactions with Colonel Mustang for some time, knew their relationship was something beyond merely superior officer and subordinate, something darker.

“Well I doubt my fern has much interest in the matter.” A paltry attempt to lighten the mood, one she didn't really think would work. She closed her eyes and exhaled, “I’m trying to help you, Edward. And I can’t do that if you continue to hide things from me.”

She paused for a moment and studied the boy before continuing softly, “I promise I won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

    The abrupt, even tactless question certainly gives Edward pause. He hasn’t said a word for this whole session (not that he ever says much during these routine meetings), and now to have the one-sided conversation plunge to such depth, especially depth in such a sensitive, supposed-to-be-secret topic — it’s jarring. So much so that he flinches from the question, as if it is a physical entity.

    Determinedly not making eye-contact with Dr. Scherler, Ed chooses to address the potted plant in the far corner. “What’s it to you?”

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msg: Oh, alright. It’s Brigadier General Mustang. He thinks he’s doing it discreetly. He’s not.

msg: Don’t tell Roy I told you.

(text that wasn't meant for them) msg: If you could *stop* making googly eyes at Edwin while I'm in the vicinity, that would be great.

send my muse a text not meant for them

     [text] 1) doc i think you have the wrong number

     [text] 2) who’s making googly eyes at me?

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msg: Oops, wrong contact, sorry Edwin. 

msg: And if you don’t already know, I don’t think it’s really my place to tell you.

(text that wasn't meant for them) msg: If you could *stop* making googly eyes at Edwin while I'm in the vicinity, that would be great.

send my muse a text not meant for them

     [text] 1) doc i think you have the wrong number

     [text] 2) who’s making googly eyes at me?

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fullmettle | closed

“Edward, what’s going on between you and Colonel Mustang?”

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Dr. Scherler looked up as the door to her office creaked open and the young blonde entered the room. She was dressed in the military uniform she had always so blatantly ignored before. The skin under her eyes was dark with lack of sleep and the shadows of her cheeks betrayed a gauntness that hadn’t been there before. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

Sofia gestured to the sofa across from her. It felt like a lifetime ago that Edwin had last sat with her in this office. Sofia remembered it well, as that was when the blonde had told her she was leaving for the front lines.

“I’ve been well, Edwin.” The doctor paused, studying the young alchemist, “How are you?”

amestriantherapy | closed

     Edwin wasn’t sure how she felt about being back, about going to therapy once more. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think she needed it, it wasn’t as if she had stopped liking Dr. Scherler, Edwin just wasn’t quite sure how this appointment would go. She’d made it through the war by stuffing any moral oppositions down as far as she could.

     Still, the sixteen year old shoved her hands into her blue uniform’s pockets before she walked into the office, giving the woman a small smile. “Hey Doc. How’ve ya been? It’s been a while.”

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((The issues with my eyes probably aren't going to be clearing up anytime soon, but I'm going to try to be a bit more active on here anyway. I updated my about page, so check that out, and I'll be updating my muse page and my rules page in the near future. 

I'll be working on my dratfs (maybe), but I'm also in the mood for some serious angst, so if you want to do something angsty shoot me an ask.))

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My fma oc rp blog has been super inactive recently, and while I would love to be writing stuff for it and updating it, I literally read “Fullmetal Alchemist” as “Fuckmetal Capitalist” earlier today. I don’t trust my eyesight enough to work on my threads right now

[amestriantherapy-blog-blog-blog]

((Sorry I've been totally MIA recently, I've been having issues with my eyes where it's hard to see, and if I can't see I can't write. Hopefully that will be fixed soon, until then expect sporadic updates. I haven't forgotten about you guys I promise. And I don't want to drop any of my threads, everything's just gonna take a while until I can see properly again. Thanks for sticking with me.))

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Dr. Scherler's grip on her phone tightened as she recognized the slight tinge of fear in Edwin's voice, even before her actual words began to register. Edwin was in danger, and trying to tip the doctor off without saying it outright. Perhaps she was being threatened? 

Sofia kept her voice steady as she replied. "Just answer yes or no, are you in danger? Is someone listening to this conversation?"

"Hello?"

My muse has been kidnapped, and gets one last phonecall,  out of pity. If they say anything the kidnapper doesn’t like, they’ll be shot. Send ‘Hello?’ for what my muse would say in an attempt to clue yours in on where they are — or in an attempt to say goodbye.

       ”Doc— I just wanted ta let you know I got to my Mom’s place safe.” hoping, that the woman would be able to understand what she was trying to say, “I know you were worried— since she doesn’t really live in the safest part of Central.”

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The doctor gave a long suffering sigh and handed the metal limb back to the blonde. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "I don't get paid enough for this."

*Steals your leg and gives it to Dr. Scherler*

      “Sonnofabitch—!!! Doc—”

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"Like a petulant child."

"Mustang dumped you in my office, said 'I give up', and then you preceded to sulk for an entire hour before talking to me."

On anon, over-exaggerate how our characters met. I’ll try to guess who it is.

       ”I didn’t sulk Doc—”