#medical experimentation tw

[nonhumanhermitheadcanons]

Falsesymmetry and TrueSymmetry are both super solder lab experiments

False was considered "perfect" while True was considered "imperfect"

both left for their own reasons

False? She was tired of the expectations placed on her. She had to be perfect, always, constantly perfect. Every single aspect of her life was micromanaged towards her perfection. The only respite she had was True.

The two went through the experiments together, sharing a dorm room. They were each other's rocks, somebody to rely on as they grappled with the changes their bodies were going through. False never understood why she was considered the perfect one. True was so much more dedicated, so determined to prove herself. False... Couldn't care less. If her supposed 'perfection' still isn't good enough for them, then what is?

Then they took True away, claiming she was a distraction. And she was, but not in the way they expected. Without True to keep her there, False is more than happy to demonstrate her new powers for them. She only looks back once, her heart aching to leave True behind. But she knows she can't stay.

True was frustrated. Nothing she did was ever good enough. She worked hard, sure practiced, she memorised everything put in front of her. Yet nothing, nothing, was ever better than False. Just because something apparently went wrong during their experiments, True is forever relegated to second best. A reason that isn't even her fault.

She tries not to be angry at False. None of this is her fault, after all. If anything, False agrees that True is better than her. But True can't help but be annoyed that False won't commit herself. She could be incredible if she put the slightest bit of effort in, yet she doesn't. She has everything True has ever wanted and does nothing with it.

One day, True reaches a breaking point. She put everything into this test, just to be told she's still not good enough. She'll show them how good she is whilst she leaves this place behind.

Her only regret is she couldn't take False with her.

[crimsonscloud]

au idea that might inspire someone: krane experimented on douglas during their partnership. douglas doesn’t know. ( maybe it was done while he was unconscious / asleep, drugged, his memories were wiped afterwards, etc. ) it could be part of some sort of contingency plan krane had for if / when douglas turned on him, similar to the virus he created to activate in the event of his death.

later, douglas finds out about it ( or has to be told by someone else who knows / realizes it ) and, obviously, he does not handle it well.

[niobiumao3]

Hunter's second time through the ringer isn't any better than his first.

--

For Whumptober Day 2: Thermometer, Delirium, “They don’t care about you.”

[memento-morri-writes]

Okqy, you can choose which one to talk about but I saw that you did this too an I am intrigued with The Experiment (lost to time), What Am I (sort of a poem??) and Arthurian Adventure because yes to Arthur

Hi Leia!!!! Thanks for the ask!

The Experiment was the name of a god-awful short story I wrote in 7th grade. It was about a woman who woke up on an alien space ship, and the aliens were like, nice to her, but it turned out that they were using her to test the cure to a disease that was killing their species, and ofc it didn't work, and she died. :) It's labeled "lost to time" because it was in a school Microsoft account that got emptied without me being informed of it, so I wasn't able to recover it, sadly. :'(

"What Am I" was a project for a creative writing class in 11th grade. Our goal was to write a poem about who we were as a person. It's very much a non-traditional poem, but I still like to consider it a poem, since it has a structure (not verses, but still a structure that repeats) and it just sounds poetic. It basically recounts my entire life from being a baby to graduating high school, since I went back and added on to it after graduating. I published the finished version on my tumblr, and you can find it HERE. **Disclaimer for implied depression, I guess.**

I talked about Arthurian Adventure in another ask HERE. :)

[w0lp3rtinger]

Maria, Who Smiles as She Pulls the Lever

You know how this ends. Still, Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. This was meant to be, if only for one glorious, beautiful moment. (Read on A03)

This has been a labor of mine for months.

Listen I’m a bit of a masochist and I may have been obsessed with rereading the ‘unedited’ version of Ann Frank’s diary and subsequently been up late listening to the isolated vocals for ‘Cancer’ by MCR a few too many nights in a row but even then, this has been boiling over in my brain for... ages.

So here we are.

This publication would not have been possible without some tremendous characters to whom I wish to give thanks.

@biolizardboils

@shadowsfascination

@killingthecringe

@bimboamyrose

@lambpaca

@mellow-elbow

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

Maria is from Earth. Sometimes she has to remind herself of this, so that the sterile steel of the ARK doesn’t become too comfortable.

“Dziadzio Gerald will fix you and keep you safe.” “He worked so hard to get this contract.” “You need to be brave.”

This is what she remembers more than the faces.

This is what all the letters keep saying until they stop coming.

Maria works hard to stay well. When she’s well, Grandpa’s there with her, laughing with her, telling her about the work he’s doing. Grandpa is a gentle man, with big calloused hands and wily eyes magnified behind coke bottle lenses.

But the sickness grows. Illuminated x-rays and CT scans seem to almost grow against the wall like strange mold. Silent. Deadly. Grandpa gone for weeks at a time, only to appear weary and quiet as he checks her vitals before giving her new medicine.

Of course he loves her, else he wouldn’t be doing all of this, but she wishes he’d be her grandfather a little bit more and her doctor a little bit less.

Maria, being told not to leave her room.

Why did the letters stop coming?

Maria, being poked and prodded and talked over, rather than talked to or talked with.

When did she start to feel so lonely?

Maria, growing up from a toddler to a child to a teen. The sterile steel world is home now. She doesn’t even remember what flowers smell like anymore. Once, she thought her favorite was poppies. Now, she clings to the idea, even though she can only recall them in their still, cold photos from the biology book on her nightstand.

Maybe that’s why she cries tears of joy when she first spots Abraham, with his sharp pressed trousers and his two-toned eyes. And of course, this scares him. And of course, Maria chases after him as best she can.

She so badly wants a friend.

But he’s younger than she is, he doesn’t want to play the same games. He throws tantrums that leave her with deep black bruises which take ages to heal. Still, it’s frustrating when Abe asks her why she hasn’t been able to play for months, and she turns to the nurse who gives no answer.

She’s never been sure what exactly is wrong with her. Nobody will explain.

They read a lot, and when they run out of books, they make their own.

And one day, when Dziadzio is doing a checkup, with all of the wires and sensors attached to her head when she’s in that big silver tube, she just starts talking. About nothing. About everything. About how little Abe is so annoying, but fun, like a baby brother, especially when they read his kid mysteries together, or when he tells her scary stories, like that of the three-eyed monster man he swears he saw with the goblin in the jar.

When Grandfather snaps at her to be silent, she’s shocked.

Then, she seethes.

Maria, with Abe’s story running through her head.

Maria, gritting her teeth as Abe now keeps insisting, gloating even, that he knows more than she does.

Maria, sitting up in bed one night with a growl, hands bunching the scratchy hospital quilt up in her fists.

The fabric crunches in her hands, and when she beats her palms against it, it crackles. He can be such a brat! She’ll show him! She’ll find the thing he was talking about!

Over-planning is key. There’s no way she can pull off the cool sneaking tactics she’s read about. Instead, she puts on three pairs of socks, both to keep her feet warm and to dull the sound of her footsteps. A few capsules of fish oil she’s supposed to take are broken open, and she’s on the floor, gritting her teeth against the pain in her knees as she rubs its contents all over the wheels of her IV poll, willing it to keep them from squeaking.

Maria creeps through the dark. The hum of the ARK, that constant white noise of her existence, can do nothing to drown out the pounding in her ears. Her lungs are burning as she measures her breaths, knuckles white against the IV poll she’s gripping as she shuffles along. The blackness stretches forever until, from around a closed door, she sees a faint green glow.

She licks her lips as she eyes the keypad at the door, tasting iron.

No matter.

There’s only one shot at getting this code right, but she’s got a pretty good guess as to what it is. And when the lock opens with a beep after she punches in the last letter of her name, she rolls her eyes.

She pretends not to notice the shaking of her hands.

Maria, who cannot help but gasp when she sees the strange dark thing floating in a tube of radioactive green goo, like something straight out of one of Abe’s stories.

No, it is Abe’s story. There is the jar goblin.

She found it.

And it opens an eye to look at her. One dark eye, wide and wild.

Panic swells within her.

Maria, quickly shutting the door, shuffling back to her room as fast as possible. She crawls into bed, but cannot sleep. In the morning, when she is pale and sweaty, when her feet are swollen and her hands stiff, Grandfather comes in only to tell her she’s bed-bound for two weeks.

She spends the time fixated on that single eye.

When Abe slips into her room with arms full of toys and books and crawls into bed, she can’t help but smirk. She has now seen his creature. Now the two of them must keep the secret.

And she knows Abe will keep it, because despite her complaining, Maria also knows he’s probably the best baby brother anyone could ask for.

But it’s not enough.

Maria, heart pounding and fingers tingling with adventure, even if she’s still recovering from her last escapade. She starts stashing away some of her anti-inflammatory medication, keeping it tucked in the bindings of one of her books that has come loose at the spine.

That dark thing in the tube, she wants to see it again.

Abe says in the false whisper of children that he once saw it move, says that he thinks it responds to people talking.

There’s only one way to find out if he’s right.

When she snatches a nearly empty bag of morphine from the pile on the nurse’s cart, Maria almost feels guilty... almost. Just when she’s about to confess, just when she’s about to give up, the faintest flame lights up within her.

She’s angry at the time taken from her. She’s angry at this bed, at this body, at these people who keep poking and prodding and talking at her.

Maria settles down on her pillow, feeling the bag squish underneath her head. She smiles when the nurse asks if she is comfortable, and she promises that she is.

Maria, creeping through the halls, the painkillers already in place and working. She’s slower this time, she knows she has to be, but when she gets to the room, there’s an impossible excitement that builds up within her and cannot be restrained. The door barely has time to close behind her before she’s at the tube. Leaning in, she places one hand on the glass, and the eye opens once more.

Its eyes are so dark. They don’t look black, but she can’t tell what colour they’re supposed to be.

“Hello,” she whispers, smiling. “You are a strange little thing, aren’t you.”

She spends the night slowly moving around the tube, taking it in. It makes sense now why Abe called it a goblin, but Maria is pretty sure that’s just because it’s just all wrinkly skin right now, like a very ugly baby. Still, it has such a soft face. Maria can’t help but hope that whatever skin, or feathers, or- or whatever, is soft. It should be soft.

She thinks she remembers what soft is.

Maria, alone the next day as she brushes her hair, cursing the knots and the burning in her eyes, remembering how Dziadzio promised her that he’d teach her how to braid it, but that was before, and this is now.

She’s stuck in her room again.

The pain isn’t as bad as last time, but it’s still pain.

She still can’t walk.

The rage inside of Maria blooms once more as she looks at her rat's nest of a brush, and she throws it against the opposite wall with a shriek.

With tears staining her cheeks, she falls asleep and dreams.

She dreams of having thick golden hair, the kind that frames the faces of the angles on the pendants she used to get from her one aunt. But suddenly, there in her mind, she sees the dark eyes of the ugly baby. They sparkle as though they’re full of starlight. When she leans in to have a better look, suddenly, she’s falling headfirst into the open and inky void between the ARK and the planet below. Her hair, her beautiful golden hair, it grows longer and longer until it turns into wings. She tries to fly to Earth, but it just keeps getting further away no matter how hard she reaches for it.

Maria, who screams at the professor when she’s told that she can’t see Abe anymore.

“He’s too rowdy,” he keeps saying, “It’s making you sicker.”

It doesn’t matter. She can see him clutching his father’s pant leg, acting as though the camouflage of the fatigues may hide him too, as she rages against the hands trying to hold her down. Her monitor is going wild. The IV poll is overturned. Maria keeps calling his name, keeps hoping he’ll run into the room, into her arms, but instead, little Abe’s father picks him up and leaves.

She stays awake and waits for him, but Abe never arrives. She does this for three straight days.

He never arrives.

Maria, silent in her own tube, the wires and sensors all over her, staring straight ahead. The lab tech tries to make small talk, but even if Maria wanted to answer, the professor tells them to shush.

“We have work to do,” he says, “We must preserve what we have as quickly as possible.”

As if he is talking about perishable groceries. Maria can feel her nails break in her palm as she balls her hands into fists.

One of the nurses does finally bring a card from Abe. It’s a drawing of the two of them playing in a field full of flowers, a bright sun overhead wreathed in birds. Maria smashes it into a ball and throws it in the trash.

Later that evening though, she stretches as far as she can to dig through the bin and find the card. She cries as she tries to smooth its creases. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Maria, being fitted for an oxygen tube. She hasn’t had to wear one of these in a while, and can’t help but fight the nurse a little. Over their muttered curses, Maria can hear the professor in the hallway talking to some looming shape she cannot make out.

“I’m hoping the gizoid will keep them distracted, but I’m not sure how much time that will buy us. Especially if this one dies on us like the others.”

And everything in her clenches.

Maria, pouring her IV nutrients into a spare commode in the closet.

Maria, stashing vitamins away in bent bookbindings.

Maria, sweat on her brow as she pictures that tiny creature all alone in that room, darkness closing in.

They will not die. They will not die. They will not die.

Maria, who gags when she combines her ill-gotten goods into a foul slurry. With one hand over her mouth, she takes deep breaths before pulling the commode out of the closet.

She’s slow. She’s careful. She’s thankful this thing has wheels that can lock and unlock, because she’s going to use it as a walker. There is no other option if she wants to carry all of this.

She squares her shoulders and slips out into the hallway.

She will not think about how much this is going to hurt tomorrow. There’s a job to do.

Maria, who punches her own name again into the keypad, who grits her teeth as she wheels herself over to the little baby in the tube.

Their eyes flicker open when she lays her hand atop the glass. What light was in their eyes from before is fading fast.

She will not let it see her fear.

“Hello, you.”

They blink, a slow, lazy movement. She can’t help but laugh a little.

“My name is Maria. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner. Don’t suppose you can tell me your name, can you?”

Silence. They blink again.

“I heard you were sick, so I’ve brought some stuff that might make you better.” she says as she moves around the tube, looking. “It won’t taste good, but… ah!”

There are two large drums that hook into where the little thing floats silently, and they open when Maria presses a button on top. She can see the same green liquid, viscus and thick, as it is slapped about by a rotating filter.

There’s no way she can lift the commode up to pour everything in.

Maria, who stays there for well over an hour. She’s cupping the nutrients in her hands, letting it go through her fingers and into the vortex below.

She hasn’t prayed in a long time. Truthfully she’s not even sure a god would listen.

Instead, she just hopes.

She hopes the filter won’t suck all of her hard work away, hopes she doesn’t get caught, hopes that maybe, please, maybe, the ugly baby will live.

When she has to take a break, she closes the lid of the commode and sits there, watching those large eyes watch her back, and somehow, she finds the will to keep hoping.

Maybe she’ll find out what colour their eyes become, if this all goes right.

By the time Maria gets back to bed, it’s nearly morning. Her limbs ache, and she can’t eat breakfast, but she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Maria, writing letters back and forth with Abe for weeks through the nurse whose name she now knows is Eleni. Eleni, with dark eyes, and dark skin, and the darkest, curliest hair that Maria had ever seen in her life. She can’t help but feel a bit guilty that she’s never taken the time to get to know this woman. Eleni doesn’t care though. She waves a hand, “You have been sick, too sick for anything else, and you’ve only gotten sicker since they took that little boy away. You have nothing to apologize for.”

And Eleni says she comes from Apotos, and Eleni sighs wistfully about the way the breeze smelled coming in from the ocean, and Eleni talks with both hands about the way the sun burned into dusk over the olive groves near her home.

Eleni, Eleni, Eleni.

Maria repeats it, paying attention to the way her mouth and tongue and teeth come together around her name.

She feels so bad when she steals front the medcart now, but somehow, she thinks that Eleni would understand.

Perhaps that’s just to ease her conscience.

Maria, who feels a gloom call from the hallway.

“And how does Project Shadow proceed?”

There is no voice, and yet, the words cut the air like the imagined hiss of a very real gas leak. It conjures strange visions of swirling pitch behind Maria’s eyes.

Every hair she has left is on end.

A threat. It moves, it breathes, as a threat.

But then there is her grandfather’s familiar rumble of a voice, low and tumbled on his tombstone teeth. She’s almost grateful the speaker and the professor go further down the hall, away from her doorway, taking the murk with them.

That night, she holds her pillow tight and curls inward, as if her whole body can protect the name it dropped in the hallway, the name she now keeps tucked in her own mouth. She imagines spikes growing from her, like great big sharp spines, keeping them safe by filling the room to the point where that voice and its owner would never be able to get near them again.

Still, it haunts her.

“Are you Shadow?” she asks, standing at the tank as she dries her hands off on the skirts of her shift.

The baby is now covered in dark fur, rich and deep, with little curls in the quills atop their tiny head. There’s a little scarlet, too, starting to show from under the black almost like the faint fingers of a polar aurora as they stretch toward the equator. What makes her most excited though, are their eyes. They’re a livid red now, flecked with gold, wide and wild. When they tilt their head at her words, it’s hard not to imagine an actual glint of curiosity flashing in them.

She giggles. “I wasn’t sure at first if that was a good name for you. In fact, I had started a list of alternatives.”

Maria tilts her head opposite the way the little baby tilts theirs. After a moment, it adjusts to match her.

“Darkness is just darkness. I know the books and all try to make it out to be something bigger, but it’s not.” She shakes her head. “But the more I thought about it… well, maybe it is fitting. You can always turn to a shadow to find the light, you know. That’s sort of poetic. At least, I think so.”

Maria purses her lips against the tightness in her heart. When she rests her hand against her chin, bowing her head to think, they copy her.

She laughs, and the gloominess is dispelled.

And she keeps laughing every time she thinks about that moment, even if it hurts.

Maria, who keeps visiting the baby in the tube, though now she has to admit it looks less like a baby and more like a- well, she’s not sure. Her grandfather used to show her photographs and sketches of ancient artifacts from excavations on the Earth below, things that inspired him with his research.

Perhaps this is to look like that one thing in that mural he is so fond of.

Maria sneers. She knows the professor only likes that mural because he thinks the other figure depicted there in the ancient tilework is him.

How egotistical.

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she will not let Shadow die.

There are nights where, with tears staining her cheeks, she falls asleep and dreams of Shadow, dreams of them growing the most beautiful dark curls, dreams of knowing how to braid so that she can teach them how to braid, dreams of being friends.

There are nights when she hears that murky whispering in her head though, and the dreams turn to nightmares.

Eyes, watching. Thoughts, hissing. A hunger unlike anything else, eating.

Maria, who in the morning wakes up and draws her and the tube baby dancing together on the backsides of used sticky notes. She can’t get the stars right. They always end up upside down. It doesn’t matter though. In this moment, all she thinks about is watching Shadow learn to crawl, to walk, to run, to dance. She wants to teach them how to dance. She wants to grab them and run through the halls to dance through the wide space of the observatory like she used to.

She wants them to dance for hours on end until they run out of breath and their feet are sore.

Maria hums a tune she heard Eleni singing.

She keeps humming even as she shreds the drawings to hide her dreams.

Maria, who finds one day she cannot hold the pencil. Her hands feel numb, fingers thick and fumbling. She keeps trying, but it doesn’t get any better no matter what she does, so she hides it. Everything becomes gross motor. Everything becomes careful. Her hands don’t need to be perfect in order to take what she needs, but she still needs to fit the part of perfect patient.

So she is patient.

But Maria can’t steal the used IV bags anymore, can’t cup her hands to move the slurry from the commode to the vats anymore. She has to change tactics.

Maria, who holds onto a shaky smile for her little friend as they watch her struggle to flip her sweater pocket inside out and shake the fat pills into the swirling tank water below.

“You’re getting so big,” she whispers, “I knew you could make it. I’m so proud of you, Shadow.”

Maria places a hand to the glass and watches amazed as they lift their own and try to press it against hers. They’re so close. They’re right there. Only a thin panel of glass separating their two palms.

And all the little hand-drawn, upside-down stars in her head alight.

But the empty days start to become longer, become worse.

These are the hours where she is too tired to think.

These are the moments when she can’t even cry.

The next time she sees the professor, it’s been ages. He’s smiling. She had almost forgotten what that looked like, but there he is, mustache twitching upwards as he throws his hands into the air.

“I have wonderful news,” Grandpa says as his big hands settle on her bony shoulders. “We have potentially found a cure.”

Maria can’t speak, let alone understand much of what is being said. That doesn’t matter. The professor just keeps talking about his latest medical advancements until Eleni comes in for the evening meds and tells him he has to leave.

There’s no letter from Abe this time.

She doesn’t sleep that night.

The rage boiling in her doesn’t let her rest.

Maria, watching the injection dissipate through her skin as it enters her bloodstream. There’s a golden glint to it, glittering like what she imagines fairy dust to glitter like, moving like what she imagines ambrosia to move like. Still, there’s something about it that stops her cold if she squints too hard. Maria takes measured breaths through her nose, expression blank, as the professor lectures the attending aids and scientists on what is happening.

Then, she recognizes it. That glowing pallor. Even if the red hue underneath it is vibrant and rich, and the golden glitter shines so invitingly, she would know that glow from anywhere.

All it takes is one attendant to point at her spiking heart rate and it all goes south fast.

She stares at her hands in the dark of the room when it’s all over. Her skin carries that light within it now, a soft radiance, and she swears to herself that if they hurt her friend, she will cut these hands of hers apart to return what was taken.

But the next day, she can pick up a pencil again.

She can talk again.

She hates it. Hates the professor, hates the nurses, hates the scientists and the attending aids and the way it takes the blood of her little friend to feel this alive again.

She hates herself.

It’s another month before the professor finally outfits Maria in an electric wheelchair. It’s not particularly fast, but it doesn’t need to be. He says he didn’t do it sooner because they didn’t see her as being strong enough. The professor laughs at this while he ruffles what is left of her hair. She’s been so good, he says. She’s gotten so much better.

Maria smiles to hide her gritted teeth.

She imagines the flesh of his hand between them.

She wants to see Shadow. Needs to see them. Every night in her mind she walks herself down the hallway. The pinpad appears on the ceiling of her room like a mirage, and she has found herself reaching out a hand to input her name.

How dare it be her name. How DARE he use her name in that way. Like this is even about her anymore.

But she must be on her best behavior, no matter what happens. She will do whatever they ask of her, smiling.

She’s worried they’ll take her new wheelchair away if she doesn’t, and she’s already figured out how to take the speed limiter off.

“You can say something if we’re pushing you too hard.” All the nurses say that. It’s the first thing out of everyone’s mouth when she slips up, and it loops like a broken record around the room.

But she just shakes her head and keeps on smiling.

In her dreams, she floats in space with her golden hair and golden wings and her little Shadow, where together they watch the ARK sail straight into the sun.

When did she become so angry?

It frightens her some days, but then pain sets in and she remembers.

They will not take everything from her. They might try, but they won’t succeed.

Maria, back in her wires, in her tube. She doesn’t even feel it when they push the needle into her anymore, her wrists and inner elbows pockmarked by the years spent watching a slow dripping life.

But now, she’s watching the life of her little friend, bagged and hooked up to her IV pole. Now, she’s watching that spark in their eye, distilled and packaged and scrubbed for her consummation, make its way down the tube.

She hates it. Get it out. Make it stop.

Stop.

But Maria is so, so tired.

Was this the moment to say they were pushing her too hard? Or had that moment passed? Or had it only been offered as a formality?

It had been so long since she had been here. She forgot how tight and lonely it is inside the tube, and she wonders if this is how Shadow feels all the time.

Where is her little friend? She wants to hold her little friend.

She doesn’t realize she fell asleep until she wakes with a start, back in her own room, in her bed. When she presses a hand to her eyes with a yawn, she hears something shift beside her.

There sits the professor, watching.

He’s not smiling.

“Maria, is there something you have to tell me?” He says, but the way he speaks has that coiling, hissing gloom within it.

She says no, and she says no as sweetly as she can, hiding the way her heart monitor starts to go faster by sitting up in bed and feigning dizziness. Normally, that works.

It doesn’t this time.

“Maria, I need you to tell me. What is the little creature you keep harping on about?”

She freezes at that.

What has she done? Did she say something in her sleep?

But again, she says no.

“You’re lying to me.”

How does he know?

Just an imaginary friend, nothing more.

“Maria, what have you done?”

It’s like he’s reading her thoughts.

It’s been lonely since they said she and Abe can’t play. Please, she’s tired. Please, go away.

Instead, he stands up, reaching for her with wide empty eyes.

Eleni saves the day just in time. “Doesn’t your granddaughter need rest, sir?” The words break across her teeth, as if she is shattering a glass in warning.

The professor doesn’t even react. He just stands there, still watching Maria. It takes Eleni using the call bell to get help from the aids to remove him, and even then, he turns his head to stare as he leaves.

It is the first time Maria has cried in a long time.

Eleni holds her. She puts Maria’s head to her chest and rocks softly, humming the song she loves so much in that voice she loves so much, smelling of something that makes her heart cave in around a black hole of hurt.

It’s Eleni who dries her tears and teaches her how to braid.

She takes sets of spare shoelaces from the nurse's supply room and spends hours with her, going over all sorts of different techniques. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she whispers everything like it’s a secret until all that fills Maria’s head is the soft sounds of her voice that roll over her brain like ocean waves.

Eleni lets Maria keep the shoelaces, and Maria stays up all night practicing to beat back the memory of how the professor looked at her.

Maria, weeks later, who sits up in bed when Abe walks in. It’s been- how long has it been? How much time has passed since she has seen him. He’s gotten taller, and his face has gained a sharp edge around the chin.

They stay there, watching one another. An aid tries to chip through the silence with a few surface-level pleasantries, but neither one of them give. Ultimately, the aid leaves.

Abe steps forward. “We need to get you out of here.”

How much can a voice change? And how severe can a person become? The boy standing before her now is no longer the baby brother she had loved. No, this person is a stranger, both the boy and the weight he seemed to carry about his shoulders.

Maria stays silent.

“Something bad is going to happen.” Abe walks closer, but stops short of the bed. He could reach out, he could sit down. Instead, he stands there, just a little over an arm's distance away.

Something bad has been happening. He just hasn’t been paying attention. Brat. Selfish brat. She wants to hug him and cry as much as she wants to beat him with her IV pole. Where has he been? Why did he stop writing?

Abe isn’t looking at her. His gaze is fixed on nothing over her shoulder as his hands slowly come up and twist their fingers into knots before him. “That thing the professor talks with, it’s been hanging around, and my dad’s been getting nervous. He’s been talking on the phone he’s not suppose to have. That’s bad.”

Maria grits her teeth, hands curling into fists in her sheets. Abe’s gaze finally shifts to hers, hard as stone.

“We have a plan. When we go to leave, I’ll come get you. You can’t tell anyone though, got it?”

She nods, and Abe leaves.

Jokes on him. She’ll already be gone.

Maria, braiding the laces over and over as cold fire certainty seeps into her bones. Abe might not have the patience to get many details in his stories right, but he did have a good sense of danger.

She looks at her hands. Perhaps it is just her imagination, but she swears she can still see her veins glowing faintly.

They’ll both be long gone.

It feels like every day is a day in eternity, waiting to see them again. She has nightmares of the light in her veins growing brighter as the light in their own eyes fade. Her friend shrivels before her, curling into a ball as their skin turns ashen. Eyes struggle to stay open, rolling under closing lids, breathing labored and heavy as they try to look for her and can’t.

Maria, drowning in her golden hair, screams and screams and screams.

Her hands still hurt when she wakes from visions of trying to break the glass.

But finally, she is well enough. Finally, she can be with her friend.

The braiding shoelaces in her hand shake, soaking in sweat, as she checks to make sure they are alright.

“I don’t know how well you can see,” she mutters as she knots the laces around the head support of a nearby office chair at the base of Shadow’s tube. “How’s that? Is that okay?”

When she looks up, she can’t help but smile. They’ve gotten so big. The colour along their arms and legs is a deep and healthy red, their eyes bright and alert.

Those quills, oh, those thick dark curls, just like Maria had dreamed, streaked through with that red.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I had hoped you’d be.”

Shadow bends down slowly in their tube, crouching toward the bottom to come closer to where Maria sits. It was then she noticed the faint eruption of white hairs coming in just under their collarbone, over their heart.

She smiles. “Still so full of surprises.”

It takes another two months for Shadow’s chest fur to come in. It’s a beautiful shock of white against the black, like a moon against the infinite sky.

Reflecting the light, pointing the way.

Maria imagines what it will feel like as she runs her fingers through the fresh peach fuzz on top of her head.

Shadow really is a poetic name.

Maria whispers their name over and over, placing it next to hers.

Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. Say it often enough and it sounds like it’s meant to be true.

They are friends. It doesn’t matter that they’ve never held hands, or braided for each other, or danced.

Though she really wants to dance.

They are friends. She etches it into the wall behind her headboard with an errant safety pin just to see it somewhere that cannot be erased.

Maria and Shadow.

One day. One day. It’ll happen. Shadow will be strong enough to get out of the tube and they’ll do whatever they want forever.

But she’s out of time now.

There is screaming, and gunshots, and screaming, and bursting pressure valves, and screaming, and crying, and just so much screaming.

Maria, who leaves Abe in the care of Eleni, telling her of Abe and his father’s plan, telling Abe to take her and run, telling them both to be safe.

There’s so many tears. There’s so many grabbing hands.

The way Abe’s big eyes glow under the red lights, the way Eleni’s voice snaps when she screams her name.

Maria, rocketing down the hall as fast as she can. Even with the limiters removed from her wheelchair, she feels like she is moving in slow motion. The flashing lights throw strange shapes across her vision, things that make her jump away from the edges of hallways and peer around corners.

She hopes Abe and his dad will keep Eleni safe. She doesn’t want to think about what might happen if Abe’s father says no.

Maria’s wheelchair skids to a halt just outside the door. She measures her breathing as she stands to push her name into the pinpad. The thundering of boots is getting closer and closer.

They round the corner just as she slips in through the door. There’s no time to get back in the wheelchair and bring it inside.

“Shadow!” She’s gasping, stumbling towards the tank. “We’ve got to go!”

And Shadow looks at her, eyes blazing.

The inquisitive brow, the near ethereal calm they normally possess, is gone. Now, there is a panic in them, palpable and real as they spin in helpless circles. She watches them shake as she collapses atop the console.

Maria, pushing every button she can, throwing every switch. Lights start to flash. Somewhere, there is a high-pitched beeping, followed by a low-toned alarm. Nothing works. It’s all in lockdown.

They’re spinning faster.

There’s shouting from the other side of the door. More gunshots. Down a hallway, there is the sound like a bomb going off. Something roars.

She freezes at the horrid, strangled sound. What could have caused that? What has the professor really been doing?

Focus.

She strikes the glass with a snarl as she viciously tugs on the lever, but nothing budges.

She smacks the tube again. Something in her wrist cracks. It doesn’t matter. She clenches her hands and beats the glass.

Again.

She’s screaming.

Again.

She’s beating the glass with her firsts and screaming. Every atom of her being seems to burst into flame as the rage she’s worked so hard to keep in check bursts forth from her skin.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Her forehead is pressed to the cool glass, though it does nothing to dull the burning ache in her brain. Tears stream down her face, and she’s biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, when suddenly, she feels a thump.

Then there’s another thump, a rippling vibration, and Maria snaps to attention.

Shadow is hitting the glass. It’s gentle, but they’re doing it, eyes darting between two sets of fists under that perpetually knotted brow.

Maria, gasping, smiles.

“That’s it.” she says, “just like that!”

And she hits the tube with both hands, making sure Shadow can see her, making sure they can understand just how hard she’s trying.

“You can do it. I know you can. Come on, Shadow!”

There’s a pause. Something comes over Shadow’s face, an expression she doesn’t know the name for. As they rear back, she swears she sees a flash of that green glow in their eyes just before they slam the glass with clenched fists.

The tube does more than shatter, it explodes. Maria ducks just as water and glass go flying. Overhead the alarms reach a new frenzied pitch, then buzz, then break their speakers. Bulbs buzz brightly and burst.

It’s dark, save for a few errant lights on the edges of the room. As the last tinkling pieces settle on the floor, she looks up.

And there they are.

Finally.

Maria, grinning so hard it hurts. She watches them take their first breath, chest expanding as their eyes go wide, as their hands come up in front of them like they’re just now seeing them for the first time.

Finally.

Maria, laughing, sobbing, as she struggles to her feet, only to fall forward as she wraps her little Shadow in the tightest hug she can.

Finally.

He’s so gross. Slippery and soggy and damp. It doesn’t matter.

Maria and Shadow.

Shadow and Maria.

Together at last.

Maria, who wants to say so much, who wants to do so much, but there’s no time. There are soldiers outside, their guns still warm. They may think to check here. They may beat down the door to shoot her where she stands, and what is she doing?

Hanging off of her friend, her knees give out underneath her as her lungs struggle to catch the air. The room is spinning, but she feels Shadow’s arms come up and around her, she feels them hold her, hug her back.

Their quills are cold to the touch and smooth like laquer, but the fluff of their chest, damp as it is- she knew they would be soft, she knew it.

There’s another boom, closer this time. She holds Shadow tighter.

It’s getting so hard to see.

Maria, who tries to be brave, who takes a deep breath she cannot keep as she looks into her friend’s wide, innocent stare.

“There’s an escape pod room. I-I think I can figure out the way. If we get there, then we’re free.”

Her voice is a rough whisper, but swallowing just makes her throat hurt. Instead, she takes Shadow’s hand in hers and smiles as she points to the door.

Their first steps to the door are tottering, unsure ventures, and she cannot help but groan when she sees the broken remains of her wheelchair. But it’s fine. This is fine. Her knees are screaming. If only for just this moment, she wants to take it slow.

She’ll need her energy when they make a run for it.

Maria and Shadow, looking up and down the hallway. Shadow just stares, tightening and relaxing their grip on her hand. Though she would love to marvel at the feeling, her hair is standing on end as she listens with bated breath.

But no one is coming.

Maybe there is no one left.

Maria and Shadow, shuffling down the hall. It’s all small steps and furtive glances. The gunfire sounds further away now, moving toward the ARKs core. She swears she can feel the floor shake beneath her feet, and wonders if something has exploded below.

From the belly of the beast, she hears another roar and shivers.

“Left,” she says. It comes out as a croak.

Shadow just looks at her. Maria has to point, and then lead them down the hallway to the left, to get them to understand.

Maria and Shadow, wandering the halls. Neither say much. Truthfully, there’s nothing Maria can think of to say. Her whole body feels like it’s being shaken apart by her own frail bones

But her little friend’s hand feels so warm in hers.

She sees blood.

“Wait.”

Shadow looks at her again, at her hand tugging on their own. The growing pool of blood creeps closer, closer, closer to the tips of their bare toes against the steel.

They step back to her.

Maria licks her lips.

“Close your eyes.”

She tries to pantomime for Shadow to understand. It’s not working. All she accomplishes is that slow, lazy blink. Maria pulls them to her, turning them around as she rests her forearms on their shoulders and covers their eyes with her hands. She pushes lightly, and they walk forward.

Good. She can do this. She can do this.

Maria and Shadow, rounding the corner. The body is slumped against the wall closest to them. Maria’s mind played tricks, told her she surely knew them, but that grey hair and those wrinkles could have belonged to anyone. She swallows as she leads Shadow forward, wincing against the warmth as the blood soaks into her socks.

Focus

She doesn’t want to look at the body.

In the periphery of her vision, she sees the brackish red smattering their teeth.

Her eyes narrow on the center of Shadow’s quills.

She doesn’t remove her hands until they make it to the other side, down the hall, and around the corner. The bile in her throat burns, but her little friend will not see. They will not know.

Maria and Shadow, their hands slowly coming up to cover hers atop their eyes, and she pulls them away. As they look around, their gaze begins to drift towards their feet, towards the bloody footprints they have left behind them.

“Don’t!” The word snaps in her mouth like a firecracker.

Keep their eyes on her.

Maria catches their face in her hands. She turns them toward her, and maybe she is gripping too hard, and maybe they know something is wrong, but she smiles against her singed tongue anyway.

“It’s nothing. We have to keep going. Okay?”

She nods. After a moment, Shadow nods too, and Maria’s smile softens.

The hallway behind them collapses in a burst of fire.

Maria and Shadow, falling to the floor. Smoke and ash fill her lungs as her ears pop from the sudden change in pressure. She reaches for them, curls one arm about their thrashing head and the other around their body as she pulls them under her as best she can.

Not that she could shield them from much, but that will not stop her from trying.

It’s all too much. The burst of heat that throws her skirt about her knees, the sudden onrush of gunfire and popping flames. Her legs feel useless. They kick and fail and can gain no purchase against the steel, but she has to find something. If she doesn’t—

There’s that roar, louder, closer. Maria lifts her head just enough to see a soldier screaming as it pours bullets into something moving through the din.

She covers Shadow’s ears just before it gets to the soldier. The sound it makes–

She gags, looking away.

They have to run.

She can’t run.

She has to find a way.

Maria and Shadow, sliding slowly down their dangling piece of hallway. Maria reaches out to grab a piece of twisted rebar. She can feel the flesh of her hand prickle against the heat.

Her grip tightens.

They will not die here.

From seemingly nowhere, there are soldiers flooding their hallway. They’re yelling, pointing. One lifts their gun to aim.

She clutches Shadow tighter to her.

And in an instant, they’re gone.

The monster rises from the dark corner, trailing behind its arm that now lies embedded within the chest of the soldier. The man twitches like a puppet, limbs jerking as their head rolls back onto their shoulders, before being cast aside.

Pandemonium.

Gunfire and flames, explosions, sirens. It is too much. An errant bullet tears through her nightgown and on instinct she recoils, almost losing her grip.

Figure it out. She has to figure this out. She has to get them out.

“Shadow!” Maria looks at her little friend, uncovering his ears as she shifts her grip. “I need you to help me.”

They just stare, fear in every inch of their face.

“I need you to pull me up.”

Can they understand her? Do they know what she’s asking for?

She hoists her arm holding him as best as she is able, just a little, then pulls on the arm clinging to the rebar. Joints pop. Tendons strain.

She wants to cry so badly, but she will not. She will be brave. They have made it so far.

And against all odds, she sees the light of understanding come through the fear in Shadow’s eyes.

Shadow twists out of her grasp. They move in ways they shouldn’t, their body contorting as claws reach out and pierce the steel of the dangling hallway floor like it is made of cotton. Shadow doesn’t crawl. They scuttle. It’s the only word she can find to describe what she is witnessing. They scuttle like a bug up the floor and out of the hole back into the hallway.

Don’t think about it too hard.

And then their hands come down, red and black and clawed, but still such gentle palms, and with one movement, it grabs her own hand still clinging to the rebar and gives an almighty tug.

And she flies up-

(her shoulder dislocates)

- and out of the hole.

The impact against the floor forces the air from her, releases the sounds of pain she has kept locked tight for so long. She’s gasping, choking and coughing on tears.

“Damn it.” She curls in on herself, clutching her shoulder. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Shadow and Maria, there on the floor.

Safe, but for how long?

Her little friend is crouched next to her, huddling over her, and through watering eyes, she realizes they are trying to shield her just as she did them. Their face is close, eyes etching a pattern into her skin as they rove across her.

They’re afraid.

For her, of her - doesn’t matter.

Maria takes her good arm, the one that can still move, and lifts it to pat Shadow’s face.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You did such a good job, and you’re being so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Their eyes soften.

But this moment cannot last.

Maria and Shadow, one dragging the other to their feet, stumbling down the hall. She swears they’re close to the escape pod room, but she can’t be sure. And then what? She not sure she’ll know how to work the controls. Nobody ever told her. Nobody ever thought Maria Robotnick, after all the attempts at saving her Grandfather has done over the years, would have to save herself, let alone her little friend.

Maria grits her teeth. Nobody ever thought she could do anything by herself, and here she is, not even able to walk alone.

Useless arm. Useless legs. Useless, useless. She was too slow. Deadweight walking. The sounds of gunfire behind them echoes through the hallway. She’s going to get them killed. She should have just told Shadow to leave. Maybe then it would have been her body slumped against the wall, her blood they would have to run through, but at least they could run.

But who saved Shadow in the first place?

She looked to her little friend, who looked back up at her with those wide, bright eyes.

Maria feels her heart beat in her chest. It vibrates in her fingertips, shakes the air in her lungs as she breathes.

She did. She saved them.

Her good hand grips Shadow’s shoulder.

“Right,” she whispers, pointing.

Shadow carefully steers them around the corner, and there stands the door she’s been looking for. The sign panel next to it is a little melted, the floor pockmarked with bullet holes from one level down, but it’s a door, and it looks like the power here is still on.

Shadow doesn’t have to worry about the raw-edged metal around the holes in the floor, but Maria does. She stands on her toes, ankles wobbling, as she opens the panel next to the door. A hand scanner, not a pin pad, stares back at her.

She breathes a sigh of relief as she places her hand atop the screen.

Shadow hisses.

Maria fumbles, turning around to see Shadow’s eyes wide, claws and teeth bared. No longer do they look like her sweet, soft friend. In this moment, they are alien. The sound coming from them – maybe it isn’t a hiss, maybe it’s something else– there’s a strange clicking in there somewhere- it echoes along the hallway, rolling like a rogue marble, only getting louder as it goes on.

Maria grabs him by the head, palm flat against his quills.

“Stop! Someone will-!”

She turns a little further, and there, turning back around down the hall, was a soldier.

Shadow’s hissing grows louder. Maria could feel their quills under her hand bristle and bite flesh. The soldier seemed frozen in place.

Then, the door opens.

Maria, grabbing Shadow and falling backwards through the opening, rolling out of the way as a shot rings out. The door closes behind them again and two deep dents break its sterile smoothness.

Shadow wriggles in her arms, teeth gnashing they try to break free. Maria clings to them tighter.

“Shh!” Maria doesn’t have a good grip. “Shh- it’s okay! We’re okay! Shadow, please!”

She pets them even though it hurts her hands. It’s the only thing she can think to do. For a moment, Shadow goes still. Their gaze flickers back to her, and Maria can see them recognize her once more.

The soldier beats his fist against it. “You need to open this door! If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety!”

Shadow’s hackles start to rise once more.

“Ignore him!” It comes out as a wail despite her best efforts, “Leave him alone, we’re almost out of here!”

“Open the door!”

“No!”

Maria and Shadow, one dragging the other. She’s doing her best but they’re being so stubborn, and she’s only got one working arm. Tears are rolling down her face as her knees scream in protest. She can see the last escape pod right there, in the middle of the room. And there, against the wall, that looks like the control panel. If she can figure it out, they’ll be out of here!

But Shadow is not making this easy. They want to fight, but there is no time to fight.

“Go!” Maria points to the open pod. “Go stand there! Now!”

Shadow won’t comply. It’s getting hard to touch them, let alone hold them. Their quills pierce her skin like needles.

With a snarl, Maria changes directions, moving for the escape pod with Shadow in tow. She has to push and shove to get them up and inside, but eventually, they get the message.

Behind her, there is a burst of gunfire, and then the door is forced open.

Maria’s hand hits the red button at the base of the escape pod faster than she can think. In an instant, the glass door comes down between her and Shadow. She can hear Shadow’s muffled screaming as she turns to face the gun.

“Stop!”

Maria blinks. She looks past the shaking barrel to the person holding it, watching as they seem to almost shrink as she makes eye contact with them through their visor.

They’re a boy, not much older than her. It’s obvious as soon as she sees it. They’re just a boy.

The gun jerks.

“Get away from there.” There’s a hard edge to his voice, a falsehood of control. He’s trying to be brave, just like she is.

She hears thumping behind her, the screaming getting louder. Maria is sure if she were to look, she would see Shadow pounding on the glass.

The boy cocks his gun and fires a shot just to the side of her, making her jump.

“I said get away from there!”

The lights in the room flicker

Something shifts deep within, and for a moment, Maria is outside of herself looking in, watching, knowing what is coming. The anger- that burning furious need to cry, to scream, to fight- in an instant, it is choked out by the crystalline peace that floods her soul.

She hasn’t prayed in a long time.

Maria, slowly reaching behind her and grabbing the lever labled ‘emergency’ at the base of the escape pod.

“Don’t do anything stupid!” The boy is yelling again, but that can’t hide the fact his gun is shaking in his hands.

She’s not even sure a god would listen, but it doesn’t matter.

Maria, slowly turning to Shadow to look one last time at the light in those wide, bright eyes. It’s as if the two of them are alone in the silent vacuum of space. Everything is cold. The view is clear.

Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. This was meant to be, if only for one glorious, beautiful moment.

She hopes she’s been a good enough friend, hopes the escape pod does its job, hopes that maybe, please, maybe, Shadow will get to Earth, and live, and be happy.

Maria, who smiles as she pulls the lever.

[dgalerab]

yooooo just found the buildings brush in clip studio?? hell yeah.

(part 1)(part 2)(part 3)

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Amore mio aiutami

Includes: Dottore and Omega Build Dottore.

Contains: Unhealthy relationships, co-dependency, implied stockholm syndrome, mentions of experimentation, medical phobia, slight yandere, improper medical treatment, obsessive + possessive behavior.

"You're childish, you set them all weeks behind schedule with your tantrums, and you hate him equally as much as he finds you irritable. But he bites down on his tongue with his opinions because Dottore is fond of you. Genuinely cares for you. For reasons that weren't built into him."

[ masterlist ]

I removed the anon ask attached to this fic because this is probably not what they were looking for. To be honest, I have no idea how I got here as well. I was just talking about how I wanted to be babied by the deranged war criminal doctor unconditionally despite the fact it would be entirely out of character. But since we don't know if the Dottore appearances are actually the original Dottore, I took massive liberties with his character in this one. I lost so much steam at the end hahh.

It starts the same way every time. You’ll make a mess, leave the lab, and refuse to take your medicine. Important papers are scattered all over the floor, shards of glass still have drops of fluorescent liquid dripping from them, and pieces of equipment are bent and broken. In the middle stand's Dottore as he mixes a small test tube of pale blue liquid in one hand, completely disregarding the state of the room. His bulky coat is missing but Dottore has long since removed any parts of his body that hinder efficiency, so the cold doesn't bother him anymore. Omega stands at the entrance of the lab, looking at the tornado that swept through the room displeased.

"I'm taking the girl didn't respond well to the treatment again?" Omega asks, quietly closing the door to not disturb the silence. There are only two reasons for the lab to be anything but organized and it's either the man himself has lost his temper or it's you. Seeing that Dottore is idly standing by, swirling a concoction that Omega recognizes as something specifically created for your illness, he can guess which assumption is correct.

"You know how she feels with anything medical-related," Dottore muses, finally placing the test tube down to scan his surroundings. "She made quite a mess this time."

Dottore's amusement in their situation adds to Omega's displeasure. Perhaps it's because he wasn't built as a replacement but as an extension in the name of progress, but for all Omega can do, he can not comprehend why Dottore keeps you around. You're childish, you set them all weeks behind schedule with your tantrums, and you hate him equally as much as he finds you irritable. When he was first created, he thought he may have been able to find some aspects of your charm but all he found was a leech. You constantly cling to the Doctor's side and give anyone else the nastiest attitude, even his segments. Especially to his segments. Although he may be biased because you seem to have a specific vendetta against him. At first, Omega assumed you were going to be used as another test subject and these were your last days of rebellion before inevitable silence. But after days turned into weeks and your presence was still here, he grew confused and confronted the original. That was the first and only time Dottore was ever livid at Omega, nearly dissembling him on the spot for even suggesting touching a hair on your pretty head. Thus he bites down on his tongue with his opinions because Dottore is fond of you. Genuinely cares for you. For reasons that weren't built into him.

"I'm going to search for her. Have someone clean up and replace the broken equipment immediately," Dottore waves dismissively, placing the test tube on the only clean surface and turning to leave.

"Yes sir," Omega bows as Dottore passes him, already anticipating the headache he'll have to endure in clean up. The blue test tube stands tall, patiently waiting.

---

You hear the door open behind you. That was a lot faster than you expected but given who Dottore is, he probably already knew where you would run to before you did. You bring your legs closer to your chest and bury your head further into your knees so you don't need to face him. You hear the quiet steps of his shoes against the floor, slow-paced and leisurely, as he enters the room and rounds the desk in his office. Before he can say anything you're throwing yourself against him and pressing your face against his stomach.

"I'm sorry," you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. Weak fist clinging onto him as you feel one of his hands come to the back of your head, softly playing with the strands of your hair. He only hums in reply, not in the least bit aggravated that you made another mess in his lab. You'll make another one in a month, apologize again, and the process will repeat again the month after that. He never gets angry, not with you. He always treats you carefully, as if one wrong touch and you'll crumble to dust. Truthfully he's right. You can't do anything without him even before your illness overtook your body completely. Before he arrived, you were struggling to do the simplest of tasks. In the region of Snezhnaya, if you weren't useful then you were discarded. Thus, your family had dropped you on the Fatui's doorstep and that's how you met the second harbinger. Scared, cold, and helpless. Not so different now years later. 

"So this is where my coat went," he says, cupping your cheeks, the pads of his fingers rubbing small circles. Your skin is cold to the touch, paler than when you threw a fit in his lab. He readjusts his coat over his shoulders that had fallen when you threw yourself at him, bringing your form closer to him in the process. "Are you finished with your tantrum my dear?"

"It wasn't a tantrum," you frown, huffing under your breath. Dottore audibly sighs before getting down on one knee. Even kneeling, Dottore is still taller than you so he can't match your lowered eye level as you loosen your hold on his waist. From this angle, he can see just how hazy your eyes have become, how hard your body needs to work to take each breath, and how you shiver even under the heavy fabrics. 

"Come now, you must take your medication or your condition will worsen,” he whispers, pushing strands of your messy hair out of your face. He’s going to have to cut your hair for you soon, he can’t see your face properly anymore. 

"I don't want to. It's...scary," your frown deepens, your fist now balling tighter in your lap trying to ground yourself down further. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead against his in hopes that maybe this time, he’ll have some mercy to spare. 

"I know. But you must and you shall," he denies your unspoken hope as the reality of your situation comes bearing down. You know that you'll have to, willingly or not. It's easier to get this done and over with before Dottore loses his patience and sedates you until you're nothing but a drooling fish. You still remember the first time he did the procedure vividly. The feeling of helplessness as your body refused to cooperate with you while your mind remained conscious. You never want to experience that feeling ever again. So all you do is nod. You don’t need to look up to see his pleased smile as he takes your hand to guide you out from underneath his desk. You try and stand but a sharp pain pounds against your forehead and you stumble, Dottore already ready to catch you. He makes a noise of amusement, scoops you up into his arms, and walks out of his office. Your legs dangle around his waist, arm's clinging to his neck as you rest your head against his chest. While he doesn’t have a heartbeat, the back and forth sway lulls you into comfort as he takes you back to the lab. The noise of assistants running around, shards of glass being dusted, and the shuffling of papers greet your ears the closer you get back. As soon as the door opens and Dottore walks in, the temperature seems to drop as everyone stop's what they're doing like scared animals. They all bow their heads before quickly scampering out of the lab. All except for Omega who stands guarding the test tube Dottore left behind reading one of the discarded research reports. 

"That was shorter than expected," he tilts his head to look past his paper to see you bundled up, Dottore’s hands rubbing small circles into your back, his chin resting on top of your head. It's almost picturesque enough for Omega to gag. 

"Go away, don't you have anything better to do," you turn and glare with bitter eyes at the segment. 

Omega matches your glare despite the mask over his eyes, his tone is enough,  "Due to your mess, everything needs to be put on hold while we clean up after you.”  

"You mean like your failure in Sumeru? Oh sorry, sore spot huh? I’ll try and refrain from hurting your feelings next time.” 

"You ungrateful-"

"Enough." You both immediately quiet down at Dottore's voice. "Leave."

Omega frowns but obeys nonetheless, walking out after the rest of the staff. There’s blood sweeping into his mouth from the bite on his tongue. You wave your fingers cheekily at this retreating back and giggle when you see his frown grow deeper. Your satisfaction is short-lived when Dottore seats you down on the desk, right beside the test tube. 

"Must you always agitate my segments?" he asks although you know he’s not annoyed. If anything you think he finds it funny seeing his segments get attitude from you. "Now it’s time to be a good girl and take your medicine."

Dottore picks up the test tube, swirling its contents, almost spilling over the top as he carries it over for you to hold. Your eyes follow the specks of powder that spin and dissolve as it settles in front of your face. You gingerly raise your hands up, fingers wrapping around the tube one by one, as you stare down at the reflecting blue liquid. And there’s the ball of unease clawing into your mind. You know the various things he gives you aren’t meant to heal you. After so many years of his treatment, you haven't gotten any better. Only healthy enough to walk but not run. He knows that you know and yet he still calls it medicine. But you ignore your mind screaming at you to throw it to the ground and run away again. You know this is the last one, you've broken all the other ones, and no matter how patient Dottore is with you, this is your last chance.

And yet.

"I-I can't do it. I'm scared." you whimper, tear’s beginning to form underneath your eyelids. Your fingers shake but you don’t dare let go and accidentally drop what’s in your hands. Dottore is quick to pull you into a hug, mindful of the fragile glass tube, shushing you as your body shakes harder as you try and contain your sobs. He gently cups your face to tilt your face up to him, his other hand brushing away your tears before running his thumb over your lips. He’s waiting for you to say it. He won't move until you say it.

"Please help me."  His eyes narrow gleefully, his grip around you tightening to bruising. He needs you to say it. 

"My love."

Dottore grin's like a madman. His sharp-pointed teeth bared. He takes the test tube out of your hands, swirls it one last time, before his other hand tips, and holds your head back. You can feel the liquid flow past your lips, down your throat, and spread through your body. You're helpless but at least you won’t be conscious enough to hate it. The feeling of drowsiness overtakes your senses, weights under your eyelids that beg you to close your eyes, until your pliant in the doctor’s hands. Dottore places the test tube back onto the desk before stepping back to observe your sleeping body. It ends the same way every time. He’ll clean up the mess, carry you back to the lab, and feed you your medicine.

[redgryphon]

A short, simple comic based on a nightmare I had. Yes, it really was like this*. Yes I have a lot of Bloodborne dreams. I also have a lot of Dark Souls dreams but I turn those into TTRPG maps.

*Full res and explanation of changes from original dream on Patreon.

[doodlefortress]

I never post about my SCP au and my hundreds of fics and files go unposted but alas

I was proud of this doodle

[tiredflowercrown]

there's no bandage (to lessen the damage)

Hehe @panthera-tigris-venenata you wanted all three right? You wanted this right? Are you prepared for what you asked for? I'm not sure you are but oh well.

Trigger Warning: Dehumanisation, Unethical medical practices, Human experimentation

All vauge, but you have been warned

CJ had always been reckless. Ever since she could walk she had been getting in trouble, running into situations she shouldn’t belong or climbing up masts. She was rambunctious and loud and free.

There was no one really free on the Isle like CJ was. A luxury granted to her by her siblings, who held so much fear on the Isle no one dared touch her unless they were a fool. She ran from place to place doing as she pleased. So it was no wonder that it was these habits that did her in.

CJ had been enjoying Auradon. There was so much for her to explore, to find, to steal, to simply wreck havoc upon. Running from place to place, kingdom to kingdom, was exhilarating. She finally had people willing to give chase. The thrill of the hunt had been the most addicting thing she had felt yet.

So when the guards got close, within eyesight, and she ran, her voice bubbled with laughter. Crazy psychotic laughter. The only kind she knew, well the only kind she let the public know she had a reputation to protect. It rang out for miles, hiding her in the scenery to most, yet one guard kept her eyes on her, tracking her through the trees and brush, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect shot.

CJ had stopped for a breath when it happened, standing on a branch, a huge smile across her face. The arrow in her chest took all of that away. She fell, shock replacing her smile, blood quickly blossoming along her shirt. Upon hitting the ground, the audible crunch of bones had even the guard flinching.

She approached closer, careful due to CJ’s known trickery, calling in the fall and potential capture of a wanted fugitive. The young girl just lied there. She seemed so simple, so small with her quickly blood soaking shirt and glassy eyes.

Somewhere on an Isle miles away, two people scream. A piece of their heart gone. They don’t know how. They don’t know why. Just a sinking gut and a searing pain telling them everything they need to know.

“She’s dead. The fugitive is dead. Prepare for extraction.”

The guard looked mournfully, remembering the details of the profile she was given: Calista Jane Hook, Age 14. She had only been a child.

No. She couldn’t think like that. The fugitive was dangerous for a reason. The property damage and millions of stolen goods spoke for itself. No. The world was far better with it out of it. (It had to be right?)

The body is taken in. A full work up is done. Medical tests and examinations. A full autopsy. A full cause of death and all the contributing factors. Everything is done. No stone is left unturned. No one had ever gotten a chance to truly see what the Isle had done to people before, they didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not when something so fascinating, so rare was in front of them. A whole study at their disposal, no ethics board sitting in their way. Not when there was no eligible next of kin. Not when there wasn’t a single soul who cared about the dead fugitive.

In a castle miles away sat a girl searching. For a way to talk, to get her back, to make a deal. A life for a life. Anything. She didn’t mean what she said. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be in a world without her wildfire. She couldn’t do this without her.

Finally after much pushing from the Crown, the fugitive’s body was released, but not without plenty of samples taken to continue testing. When it finally reached the hands of one Freddie Facilier, she wept at the loss of her dear CJ, who was almost unrecognizable. She was lifeless, none of her abundance of energy to be seen. Massive chunks of her hair were missing, surgical lines across every limb of her body. Every part of her dissected.

She crafted letters, being careful of who saw her. It wouldn’t do to have her surprise ruined. She mourned and buried her wildfire. CJ deserved to rest, deserved to be left alone from Auradon’s pain and torture. She watched and waited for vengeance, it didn’t belong to her, not really. And the sea always helped the sea, a ship couldn’t sail without waves. They grew closer and she grew more content, they will avenge her. They will avenge CJ.

When the siblings finally reach Auradon, it will burn. Their fury will reach levels never seen before. Lives will be taken, buildings broken into and burned. Every inch of what had been done to their sister, every reminder, every document will be destroyed. They don’t deserve her or the knowledge that their “research” on her gave them.

But it will never be enough.

Because Calista Jane will remain dead. She will remain in the ground (Or in labs never found.) She will never speak again. She will never laugh again. She will never run again. She will never be again.

Only the memory of her will remain untainted. And even that is not enough.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

McGill University and a group of Indigenous elders have reached a deal to search for the possibility of unmarked graves at the former site of a Montreal hospital, following a court ruling described as precedent setting.

The Mohawk Mothers allege there are bodies of Indigenous patients buried on and around the old grounds of the Royal Victoria Hospital, which McGill is renovating to expand its campus.

"I'm glad that everybody agreed with that, and we all want this to happen and we're going toward justice," Kahentinetha, one of the Mohawk Mothers, said in an interview. "We always said we're here for the children and we want justice for all the children."

The Mothers say they have uncovered evidence of graves following interviews with survivors of mind-control experiments that took place in the 1950s and 1960s at a psychiatric institute affiliated with the hospital. Canada and the United States allegedly funded abusive psychological experiments on vulnerable patients with the MK-ULTRA program, which included experimental drugs, rounds of electroshocks and sleep deprivation.

Full article

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[abybweisse]

I like your idea about Druitt and Unny still in cahoots. It fits well with them both involved in what occurred at Weston. Redmond called on uncle Druitt so he knows the secrets of the Music Hall and the school. And of course none of it would've been possible w/o Unny, and there they both are on the Campania. I never did buy Undertaker's excuse for refusing to reap Druitt or let him be killed. Your idea makes much more sense. Toboso makes us laugh at Druitt so we won't suspect him 2 much, right?

⚠️ long post ⚠️

Undertaker and Druitt connections

I suspect that -- unless they are somehow related, and they might be -- Undertaker first became interested in what Druitt was up to when the viscount began selling off children and young women at auctions, if not sooner (and I'll get to that later in this reply).

If Undertaker was called upon to remove remains from any of the buyers, or from Druitt's estate, he'd want to know what they were doing to those victims/bodies. We know he's picked up remains from Phantomhive Manor on numerous occasions; Sebastian has the other servants pile up the remains from the circus troupe attack and cart them to some back or side gate for Undertaker to collect them. Most likely, this was done whenever there was a failed attack at the manor, even before our "Ciel" became earl and master. The Phantomhives, going back however far they go, would have been common targets to anyone who wanted to get rid of the queen's watchdog. And we know that before other servants were even hired by Sebastian and our earl, assassins and thieves were showing up on a nearly nightly basis. Somewhat regularly, in any case.

We now know quite a bit about how our earl ended up with his current servants, but we've learned very little about how he ended up with his various connections; we don't even know how he connected with Vincent's old, remaining network. I imagine that one of the first reconnections he made (besides Madam Red and Tanaka, of course) would be Undertaker. People would show up to the manor, Sebastian would kill them, and then what? Sebastian would have asked his young master how he wants to dispose of the bodies. At first, our earl might have suggested to bury them on the vast estate. But, as the numbers mounted, this would have taken more time and space, plus it could open them up for investigation, if remains were found (by others) that weren't proper burials in the family cemetery. Another option would be to dump them off the grounds, as far away as possible. This could still become a problem. Our earl would remember the creepy undertaker that popped up around the manor (and possibly also the estate grounds) from time to time, back when his predecessor was in charge. During the instruction both boys received about being earl and watchdog, Vincent might have already explained why he has Undertaker in his network... at least the professional reason, though definitely not the personal reason.

I don't know whether Druitt was ever in Vincent's circle, a member of the evil nobles. They probably attended Weston together, but we don't know if he's the Scarlet House prefect. Either way, Druitt might have actually become a subject for investigation before. There's even a scene during the curry arc that could be a hint to that. The jeweled lady that Druitt recalls might actually be Vincent in drag, at some event years ago, there to investigate Druitt or someone else in attendance.

We have no idea how long ago Druitt started trafficking humans, so perhaps it was related to that... and he just got away to do it again and again... much like we've seen him get away with the things he does while our earl is watchdog. Even when Druitt is arrested, he goes free. Probably bribery to corrupt officials. Some of the higher-up ones might be clients/buyers. Yana-san really drives home how much corruption and fraud and abuse there is in her Victorian England. Sadly, it's not too far from reality.

Doctors were largely detested during the era because of some shady practices that many engaged in. Practitioners would be hired to have people committed to asylums... or even to examine girls to see if they were still virgins, so their families could prostitute them out and charge more for their first assignations. Surgeons (for practice) and anatomists got their human dissection subjects through various means; some were acceptable and others were downright despicable. They prescribed dangerous substances as medicines; sometimes the "cures" really were worse than the conditions.

Though Druitt doesn't have a medical practice, he has a medical license. Before he even got into selling live humans, I wouldn't be surprised if he was involved with supplying and/or buying corpses for study. It would be interesting if Druitt cut out the grave robbers by going straight to undertakers for a supply, because he seems like the sort of person who would do a lot of studying on his own, particularly since he's an aristocrat with no intention of opening a public medical practice. Druitt's connections to Undertaker might go back quite a long way, maybe even back to Druitt's Weston years... when Undertaker would have likely re-entered Vincent's life. Who knows, but I'd be very interested to find out.

When Sebastian investigates all the people with events for the social season, narrowing down the ones that might line up with Jack the Ripper, we don't know where he gets all of his information. It's entirely possible that some of it comes from Undertaker, particularly about people like Druitt. Which supports the idea that Undertaker might already have a history of dealing with the remains of people who have passed through Druitt's doors.

Well, they definitely meet before the events of the Campania, since they already have some sort of dealings with each other, including the Aurora Society. Druitt could easily be the one who introduces Undertaker to Stoker. I very much doubt it would be the other way around, with Stoker making introductions between Undertaker and Druitt.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to get to here, but this reply has been sitting in draft for ages, and I've forgotten whatever else I'd wanted to say. 😬

But Druitt has got to supply more to Undertaker than simply laughter. Knowledge and/or experimentation that leads to medical technology would be very helpful for his current activities.

And we can't ignore the possibility they are also related. Particularly if Undertaker ends up being Cedric K. Rosewood, Rosenthal, Rosedale or any other last name that would make him sound right at home in Scarlet House....

[lights-on-the-ridge]

in @pastafossa we trust

this is based on ‘Im Sending A Raven’ on Ao3!

[illsuiteddowner]

@mothergooseberry

When Arthur found out Dr. Hayworth got the funding for the illegal drug testing that eventually turned into Joy from the Murkoff Corporation, he noticed, but he had to stay focused on Percy. When he finally escaped and got to Germany, the trail went cold. No one knew anything about any missing English children taken hostage. They seemed to have disappeared the second they set foot into Germany.

Arthur was desperate for something, any kind of hope to grab onto, because the notion that he might spend the rest of his life making it up to Percy was more or less only thing keeping him going at this point. So he searched. And searched. And searched. His German got, if not good, at least somewhat coherent (though he'd never get the knack for it that Percy had.) In his exhaustive efforts, using more investigative reporting chops than he'd ever had to use working for the "O" Courant, he managed to uncover records of a war camp where the children may have been taken. He couldn't find any mention of what happened to them, but he also found that his old friend, the Murkoff Corporation, had made a deal to illegally seize prisoners from that very same camp towards the end of the War and transport them to America.

It was something. There was a connection to Wellington Wells. It was literally the only hope Arthur had left. He dutifully followed the trail across the Atlantic to America.

Tracing these prisoners was extremely difficult. Murkoff guarded their information jealously. The more Arthur found out, the more he was slowly realizing why.

Even before Murkoff got involved--back when Arthur started finding out what went on in Germany during the War, Arthur could hardly take the information. Just when he thought the weight of what he'd doomed his brother to couldn't be more crushingly heavy, he found out about the experiments. And how the Murkoff Company bought all that research and test subjects off the Germans at the end of the War and continued them.

The chance Percy was still alive slowly turned from a hope into a fear. Maybe the most merciful thing would have been for him to die right away. Thinking about Percy being subjected to half of the things he'd read about had made him throw up more than once. It only became more important that Arthur find out what happened to him. He knew with full horrible certainty that if he was still alive, he needed Arthur get him out.

He followed the experiments to a place called the Sinyala Facility. The place was locked up tight, but Arthur had managed to sneak inside through a vent. He found himself in some sort of surreal fairground.

It wasn't actually outside, just in a warehouse so huge Arthur couldn't see the ceiling in the poor lighting. There were carnival games and a carousel, along with these weird mannequins posed like they were having fun at the fair. He was already freaking out when he came across the first dead body. It didn't help matters.

What the fuck was this place?

He didn't have time to wonder about it. A loud sound that went straight to his teeth startled him. Was that a drill? Why was there a drill in here? And why did it sound like it was coming--

Fuck. Arthur was standing right out in the open when someone came around the corner. He stared like a deer in headlights long enough to register some sort of horrible drill puppet what the fuck before he bolted and ran as fast as he could in a random direction.

[dgalerab]

(part 1)(part 2)(part 3)

me: what if shirakumo lived

me:

me: ANYWAY

(but dw it's not a nomuzama au)

[ailingwriter]

I've looked at the Classroom side of Abomination Classroom, now let's take a look at the other side of the equation - the alterations the scientists made to these kids, as well as reasons why these specific alterations were chosen when applicable, and some other notes besides.

A small preface, the scientists did use antimatter in these experiments which acted as something of a binding element for the alterations, making sure things didn't go too wrong. Of course they'll have some side effects later on, but thankfully no explosions. (If anyone wants me to elaborate on the reasoning for any given changes, feel free to ask.)

Also, thanks to @drop-the-curtain-123 for being a sounding board for these ideas.

Nagisa: Snake. Tail instead of legs, venomous fangs. - It's Nagisa. I was going to make the scientists give him alterations from a protandrous animal because his mom is Not Well, but it messed with the dorms. So, snake.

Karma: Large Bentwing Bat. Ears and wings. (He can't fly, none of the kids with wings can.) - Karma, as well as a lot of the other hostages, were being treated more cautiously and so their alterations were based on other animals with 46 chromosomes for added stability.

Akari: Octopus, Tentacles and camouflage. - Akari was more a test of rapid alteration, and her alterations were based on Itona's alterations. These tests weren't nearly as safe as the ones done on the other hostages but Yanagisawa wanted Aguri to suffer. Because he's an asshole.

Sugino: Mountain goat. Hooves, horns and balance. - Many of the alterations were chosen for potential military application. Sugino had no particular reason to get these alterations but neither did anyone else.

Okuda: Tortoise. Shell. - Again, no particular reason why Okuda specifically got these alterations, it's just something the scientists would try on someone.

Maehara: Black Rat. Tail, ears. - Maehara and Isogai were some of the earliest test subjects that are still alive, and so they both have simple alterations based on animals with 46 Chromosomes.

Sugaya: Hyena. Mouth, tail, legs. - Meant to capture Hyenas' bonecrushing bite. Sugaya was chosen because him briefly being mistaken for a delinquent because of his henna tattoos could be seen as reminiscent of how hyenas are unfairly villainized.

Kanzaki: Reeve's Muntjac. Coat, horns. - another 46 Chromosome crew member. With Kanzaki the scientists just let the mutations take the lead to see what would happen.

Kataoka: some large freshwater fish. Tail instead of legs, gills. - One of the scientists had a mermaid obsession. Her alterations were meant to be used for aquatic operations. She was chosen for this dubious honor because of how swimming toes into her character arc.

Yada: Tiger. Claws, tail, mouth. - I decided to give both Kurahashi and Yada similar alterations, straightforward ones based on major predators.

Kurahashi: Wolf. Claws, tail, fangs, legs. - see above.

Hayami: Falcon. Eyes, legs, wings. - I had to give one of the snipers literal falcon sight, okay?

Chiba: Pitohui. Wings, poison. - For many reasons, trying to make poisonous alterations was a huge struggle. Chiba's the only survivor. Also instead of sniper duo, he and Hayami are now bird duo.

Okano: Cat. Eyes, Ears, Nose, Tongue, Claws, Tail. - Okano was used as the testing grounds for altered senses. Due to this she's prone to sensory overload.

Isogai: Merriam's Ground Squirrel. Ears & tail. - See Maehara's page.

Terasaka: Crocodile. Maw, tail. - chosen for possible semiaquatic operations.

Muramatsu: North American Wood Frog. Toe/finger pads, antifreeze, tongue. - Yeah, the North American Wood Frog has a natural antifreeze. Muramatsu's alterations were intended to be used for polar operations. It didn't work out.

Yoshida: Kangaroo. Legs, tail. - Kick.

Hazama: Spider. Spinnerets, some exoskeleton. - Other than Akari, Itona and Hazama were subjected to the riskiest experiments out of the 28 that are still alive, being given non-vertebrate alterations. This is because they were outright given to the scientists with no caveats

Takebayashi: Mountain Beaver. Teeth and whiskers. - another member of the 46 Chromosome crew. Also I only recently learned that mountain beavers apparently don't have that trademark beaver tail. Go figure.

Hara: Honey Badger. Hide. - Unfortunately, she doesn't gain the honey badger's trademark attitude of not giving a fuck.

Nakamura: Dolphin. Lung capacity, Tail. (She keeps her legs.) - A less extreme attempt at fully aquatic alterations. I chose Nakamura because she's silly but also smart.

Mimura: Chameleon. Skin, eyes, climbing pads. - Mimura is noted to be good at going unnoticed. So this was kinda easy.

Okajima: Skunk. Tail, scent glands. - He has control over the musk by the time they get to the dorms don't worry. That said I may have been a bit mean to him by giving him these alterations.

Kimura: Cheetah. Legs, tail. - He fast. Also, less extreme alterations than some because he is a hostage.

Fuwa: Fox. Claws, legs, tail, ears. - When Fuwa first watched Naruto, she liked to imagine how cool it would be to be part fox. She doesn't think it's cool anymore.

Ritsu: European Hare. Legs, Ears. - To reiterate, in this AU, Ritsu's the daughter of some Japanese-Norwegian interpol agents. Originally I was going to upload her consciousness to a computer but that didn't fit with the rest and it was too risky for a hostage, so I put her in the 46 Chromosome Crew.

Itona: Octopus. Tentacles, camouflage. - As mentioned with Hazama, Itona was given to the scientists and so went through much more extreme testing. There were others. There aren't anymore.