#underneathfineincisions

    "I just don't know what to make of it." It's not every day something new breaks out, and honestly, he wishes it wouldn't ever happen. He doesn't like the illnesses that have him standing around and scratching the top of his head, like this one does. He doesn't like not knowing what to tell the patients, and the people waiting with the patients, doesn't know what to do. There's nothing on the scans. Nothing in the blood. As far as he can tell there's absolutely nothing wrong with them -- nothing at all.

    So why are there a dozen, give or take, officers in his Medical Bay, quietly babbling to themselves? They seem incapable of being quiet, and whenever he asks questions, they tend to default to repeating themselves. It's like nothing he's ever seen before -- they just talk and talk and talk, and they're not making any sense at all.

    He crosses his arms, peering out at the beds and shaking his head. It just doesn't make any damn sense. He's checked for everything, can't find a single thing wrong with any of them -- it's like they all simultaneously suffered brain damage. Only, there's not a single sign of that coming up on anything at all.

   Sighing heavily, he turns to the woman beside him, gesturing at the files and running a hand through his hair. "Let's go through this again. Symptoms are...repetition of words, they're babbling, mimicking sounds. They seem docile enough -- "

   A sudden shout coming from beyond the glass has his head jerking back up. "What in the name of -- " He's out of the room as quick as the words leave his mouth, body weaving through the beds to grab a hypo, quickly injecting the man three nurses were actively trying to restrain.

    "What the hell happened in here?"

    The nurses are shaking their heads, panting a bit -- seemed the guy just flew off the handle and started fighting, and then bit one of the nurses. He shakes his head, rubbing at his face gently.

Waiting for Superman; chris daughtry

she saysyeah he’s still comingjust a little bit late he got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape she’s just watching the clouds roll by and they spell her name like lois lane and she smilesoh the way she smiles

send a ✧ to hear about an emotional/mental scar

       (no idea if this counts—) He doesn’t want a family. After everything that happened — the 'father of the year' he was given and the distant one he found — he just doesn’t think he’s cut out for that sort of life. Not to mention that this sort of lifestyle doesn’t exactly allow for something like that.

send a ✗ to hear about a physical scar

FUCKING

JOHN

It had only been a week since Ryan Dimmock had lost his co-pilot, his adopted sister Toby Gregson, to a Kaiju attack. Ryan, better known as either Ry or Raz, was still in the infirmary due to his extensive injuries. His constant staring at the walls was starting to worry a lot of people, noticeably the Marshal and one Doctor Anthony Gregson, Ry’s adopted brother and best friend.

Anthony was a scientist who had two doctorates, one in Applied Physics and the other in Mechanical Engineering. He was in charge of rebuilding Ry’s jaeger, the Archangel, and he wanted his friend to get better but he had no skills in psychology whatsoever. He pleaded with the brass to give Ry a chance to recover from the physical and mental damage he received from the attack and losing Toby while still connected in the Drift.

       { —ooc.