doctorxgraham-blog

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison nodded. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire town had tried to cram itself into the psych ward— after the murders, she noticed more and more people with puffy pink eyelids, pale faces, and purple bags under their eyes. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and motioned for her to follow Allison to the office.

“My office is right in here. Do you like tea? I can get coffee from the cafeteria if not.”

juno looked up, forcing a smile. back home, seeing a psychiatrist would’ve been tantamount to betrayal. ironically, the old coven did not believe in such things. still, being so deeply connected to her twin doubled the anxiety she would’ve felt without him. “oh, you know. anxiety, stress.” she rubbed her upper arm, large angular crystals glittering on her fingers. “i feel as if everyone’s eyes are on me and my brother and it’s not… fun.”

#conversation #juno001 #jvnogrey #hi hi hi~!

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison felt herself wanting to tell him her entire story— maybe because he was a bartender, maybe because he was the first person to smile at her in what felt like forever, maybe because her martini glass was almost empty. But Allison stopped herself: she’d been told before that she was too trusting, too sure that others’ intentions were good. She sighed, carded a hand through her hair, and chose her words carefully.

“Henry,” she said quietly. “Henry Read— I think this is a two-drink kind of conversation,” Allison added, pushing her glass towards Alec. “Disappeared two months ago.” Had it already been that long? Allison’s stomach churned. “He was— is— a professor of psychiatry at Berkeley, he was my professor—“ She flushed, wondering if Alec would assume that they were involved— assume the truth, she corrected herself. “He was involved in some… Research. Not all of it board-sanctioned, more like… Well, he had this theory about people that kept appearing all over the West Coast in a sort of a… Trance, I guess. It looked like schizophrenia, at first. But it had these physical symptoms that are atypical of a schizophrenia diagnosis.”

Allison marveled, with queasy horror, at all she’d just said— she met his eyes with a clear, steady gaze, and frowned lightly. “You have to understand we only meant to help them.”

He raised an eyebrow at her question. A disappearance? He thought back to the nameless bodies found in town and could only hope they weren’t connected. He feared that she’d come here for answers, to find her friend, and instead would wind up swept up in the hysteria and panic that had overtaken the town, her only lead a pair of mangled and unidentifiable bodies towards finding her friend. “How long ago did he go missing?” He asked, clenching his jaw. The thought of knowing someone who lost someone, and the very real threat that that someone was lying dead because of this thing –– no matter if it was a conspiracy, or a cover-up, or really just horrific coincidence –– was sickening to him. But that was a bridge he didn’t have to cross just yet. 

“Maybe I can ask around? He a human?” He asked offhandedly to the doctor. He turned around, trying to play off his concern as focus, grabbing one of the glasses and pretending to notice a spot. Wiping it off with a dish rag, he looked back up at her as she spoke again. “No, I get it. Those people –– they’re important.” He shrugged. He didn’t want to allude to just how far he would go for his pack, just how much he would do for them. They were his everything, and if this guy was anything to her like what they were to him, he would go to the ends of the earth to find them and keep them safe as well. He looked up at the clock. Was it too early to drink on the job? All of this was happening so fast, with so few answers and so many more terrifying questions. He had to talk to Adam, maybe even Flynn to see if they knew anything about the bodies. “What’s your guy’s name?” He asked, almost as an afterthought.

#alec001 #castillo-alec #shady allison is shady #conversation

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison nodded. Alec. It was a nice name, a non-threatening name. She twirled the skewer that ran through the olive in her glass. A lock of hair fell into her eyes and she pushed it behind her ear as she deliberated her answer. It wasn’t as if she could tell the truth— or could she? Maybe Alec had seen Henry around— which assumed that Henry was walking around, going to bars and dive joints. The thought made her heart twinge pathetically. If he was safe, why hadn’t he come home?

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” she said quietly, glancing up. “He disappeared a while ago, and was last seen here.” That part was a lie: who knows if Henry had made it to Devil’s Watch alive? He could have been waylaid on the road— images of Henry, broken and bloodied, flashed before her eyes. She licked her lips and sipped her drink. “Believe me, I know how crazy I sound, but… You do what you can for the people you love.” She shrugged, helpless. 

Alec stuck his hands in his pockets and surveyed the girl. “Alec,” he responded. He tried to shake himself out of it, but he could hear her heartbeat. This close to the full moon, everything was in overdrive. He could hear everything, and he couldn’t filter it out. It gave him a perpetual headache. Buh-dum. Buh-dum. Buh-dum. It was rhythmic, even, stable. Where she’d been nervous before, he could feel her loosening up. He could see the tension leave her shoulders. It was a familiar sight on weekday afternoons, people coming in after a long day at work to have a drink to take the edge off. Alec facilitated a sort of nightly ritual for some folks, giving them the closure they needed to separate personal and professional life, acting as a buffer between both parts of their lives. 

Alec shrugged at her comment. “It has its perks,” he said aimlessly, though he understated just how much he appreciated it. He loved seeing familiar faces, having his people around him. He was drawn to the familiar, to the stable, to the secure, and nothing said that more than people he’d grown up with. Some of these people had been his teachers, his mentors, his soccer coaches. He loved being a part of their lives just as much as they were a part of his. “Why’d you set up shop here?” He asked. It was a hell of a time to move into the area.

#conversation #castillo-alec #alec001

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison grinned. “Thank you,” she said appreciatively, as she took the cup of coffee. “It’s been a nightmare,” she murmured, glancing at Charlie and rolling her shoulders. “You can’t imagine— or maybe you can. Are things as busy at the clinic?”

Charlie just raises a brow from where they stood at the nurses station, “I’m aware,” she teases, “And my only problem is that you don’t have a coffee,” she tells hem, extending the arm with a drink for them.

#conversation #charlotteotar #charlotte001

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison smiled in relief. “Sure,” she said, “just have a seat in here and I can pull up your file…” She pushed open the door to her office and gestured to her seat. “Sorry again about the wait— after the nurses’s strike last month, we haven’t fully recovered…” She felt a little like she was blathering and glanced at the computer screen: Harley Grey’s name shone out at her from a list in minuscule print. “And there you are.”

“No problem,” Harley said with a polite smile, oddly relaxed amongst a sea of anxious, strung out people in the waiting room. He stood and nonchalantly stretched his arms out over his head, narrowly stifling a yawn. He’d been waiting for a while. “I just need to renew my prescription. I should be on the appointment list - under Harley Grey?”

#harley001 #hxrleygrey #conversation

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison sighed, snapped on a pair of rubber gloves from the wall— feeling foolishly like a Real Doctor, not a girl who meddled in peoples’ minds— and examined the hand. It would need more than a few stitches, and Allison found herself wondering about the nature of the injuries in Devil’s Watch: always men coming into the ER bloodied and bruised, young women with strange scrapes on their legs, or else dark circles under their eyes. She shook her head as if to clear it and said,

“You certainly did a number on your hand. I can patch it up, though— follow me.” She released his hand, took off the gloves and trashed them, and motioned for him to follow her down the hallway. “How’d you get that, anyway? ‘Stab wound’ seems kind of vague. ”

Lee wasn’t sure if it had been bad luck or his own idiocy, but somehow he had managed to stab his hand with an arrow while trying to reach for it. After five minutes of trying to convince his colleagues (and himself) that it wasn’t that bad, he figured that it would be best to stop by the hospital. 

“Nah, not too long,” he smiled, standing up to greet the doctor. In reality he had no idea how long he had waited. Between dozing off and trying not to bleed over everything, time seemed to have fluctuated between freezing and fast forwarding. “Uh, just a bit of a stab wound.” He showed his palm to the woman, chuckling sheepishly as blood slowly started dripping down to his wrist. “Stitches?” he guessed as she examined the gash. He wasn’t too terribly opposed to needles, but he certainly wanted to avoid them if possible. 

#conversation #leechen-ing #lee001 #hiiii!

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison studied him, watched the easy way he moved behind the counter. Allison herself was hopelessly clumsy; she could only imagine how she might fare as a bartender. It was a side-effect of moving too fast, racing through each day without stopping to consider if her feet caught on the carpet or if her foot didn’t quite make the step. There was a bruise on her left elbow from jamming it against the doorframe and she rubbed it absentmindedly.

“Allison,” she said, and took a sip of her drink. “Yours?” There was still the hint of a flush in her cheeks, and to cover her awkwardness, she took another, longer, sip. The martini was half-drained; Allison wasn’t habitually a hard drinker— it was, after all, hard to be a psychiatrist and have any vices— but she could feel her shoulders uncoiling, the muscles relaxing in her neck and back. She smiled and glanced at him sideways. “Must be nice— I mean, seeing everyone you know, every day…” She gestured aimlessly.

Wow, she was practically a walking ball of stress. Just watching her, Alec felt himself tense up empathetically. Nerves smelled different than fear. Fear was potent, strong, almost sour. Nerves were prickly, as you’d expect. The smell lingered in your nose, uncomfortable. How a smell was uncomfortable, he didn’t know, but hey, he smelled emotions. It was what it was. Nevertheless, that’s what she smelled like, but she opened her mouth to speak, and he found out why. 

“A doctor, huh? That explains it,” he said absentmindedly. Doctors always had seventeen things on their mind, Alec learned. Of course, he didn’t spend much time around doctors, never really getting sick and not really in the business of talking to academic folks, but he’d come across them during his twenty-six years of life, and he’d found they were always busy with something. He raised his eyebrow at the “boy next door” comment, having never been pinned as that type before, and huffed a laugh. “Somethin’ like that.” He muttered, looking out at the other patrons. He recognized most of them –– this was his turf. “Grayspire, born ‘n’ raised,” he said, looking back. “What’s your name?”

#castillo-alec #alec001 #conversation

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison had been dreading talking to the reporter, and didn’t know why she was dreading it. She’d lost track of her conversation with her patient several times, groping for loose threads in the dialogue and finding herself two, three minutes behind. It annoyed her, and so she walked down to the cafeteria already vexed, cheeks flushed. She bought her coffee, feeling his eyes on her from across the room, made a show of dumping two sugars into it, and then walked towards him. Dropping into a seat, she said tiredly, “Hey there, I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

[ooc: we agreed on a time jump in advance to keep things interesting]

The coffee was okay at best, was Peter’s conclusion. Though it was better than most coffee available in most cafeterias.

He was having trouble focusing on the story at hand; instead he was wondering about the doctor he had met. What was she doing here, only having been here a month but with the qualifications of a doctor? He glanced at his watch, waiting for her to arrive.

#peterburan #peter001 #conversation

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison watched him work, soothed by the rhythms of the bar. People ducking in, drinks sloshing over the lip of the glass, the quiet murmur of conversation. Everyone unwinding after work. Work, drink, sleep, repeat. Allison hated the feeling of time passing— every day passing made her acutely aware that she hadn’t found Henry yet, hadn’t brought him home. She drummed her fingers again on the wooden bar, trying to quell the restless feeling inside her.

“Thanks,” she said appreciatively. She smiled up at the bartender. He looked nice, she thought. Comfortable in his own skin. Allison realized then that she was expected to reply and said hurriedly, “Seattle— I’m, ah, doing clinical psychiatry at the hospital.” She took a sip of her martini and looked back at him. “You’re from here, then. Makes sense. You look like a Boy Next Door type.” She didn’t fully know what she meant by that, and red crept into her cheeks. “I mean, you look like you’re from around here. You know, it’s your turf.”

Alec made his way over to the woman, noticed her fidgeting. He wasn’t going to say anything, of course –– wasn’t his business. But he probably would anyway; he was on edge, and he didn’t know her, and she looked nervous. She ordered a martini, and he nodded. She really wasn’t from around here. She looked clean, put together; clearly not from Grayspire. She didn’t smell like a wolf, that was for sure, and definitely not a vampire. She’d get kicked out by one of the other patrons before he could walk over to her if she was. She smelled like human –– an uptight human, yeah, he could practically feel her stress from here, but a human nonetheless. 

Satisfied with his assessment, trusting that she presented no significant threat, he grabbed a martini glass and turned back around to assemble the drink. They did have Grey Goose; Alec quickly learned in his first few shifts that Grey Goose was the most requested vodka they had. Maybe it was because few people knew of another kind. It was tried and true, and it tasted about as good as a vodka could, so he wouldn’t fault them for that. He wasn’t a drink snob; hell, he liked a good beer more than most other drinks. He made her drink. 

Setting down the bottle of orange bitters he’d used, he walked back over to her with her drink and set it down. Reaching under the counter, he grabbed the jar of olives, grabbed a toothpick from the bar and skewered one, placing it into her glass. “Cheers,” he said as he set the jar back under the bar. Leaning back against the back counter, he crossed his arms. “You’re a new face. Where are you from?”

#awkward allison is awkward #conversation #castillo-alec #alec001

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison liked bars. Liked hearing the din of conversation, the slosh of drinks, the merriment. The low light felt nice after a day under the harsh fluorescents of the hospital, and she liked being alone without feeling alone— there was a difference.

She sat at the bar after her last appointment, drumming her fingers on the countertop. Kids always made her feel the worst— her last patient had been a teenage girl with big baby-fawn eyes. Allison frowned and flagged down the bartender, rearranging her bag on her lap and tucking her hair behind her ears.

“A martini? Dry, please. With Gray Goose, if you have it.” She smiled tightly.

Alec had grown tired as everything had gotten worse and worse. He was exhausted, he was frustrated, and he didn’t know what to do. He buried himself in work, taking on extra shifts, trying to keep himself as occupied as possible, hoping for the possibility that someone would come in with some answers, or that one of these days, there would be a breakthrough. If anything, Wolfsbane was largely occupied with his own people, with wolves and his pack and friends of his. He recognized most of the patrons most days, especially around lunch time. It had been a day since the body had been found, and he was still high-strung over it. 

Turning to face the bar, he saw someone new had taken a seat at the counter. Wiping his hands on a dish rag, he slung it over his shoulder and walked over to them. “What can I get for you?” He said, resting his hands on the counter.

#castillo-alec #alec001 #conversation #you're perfect shh

[doctorxgraham-blog]

☾, ✧, ☗

☾ Sleeping habits

Allison is something of an insomniac-- always too much to think about, too much she could be solving or someone to help. It’s rare that she gets six or seven hours; a good night is five. Even if she’s home from the hospital by nine, she won’t sleep until midnight or later.

✧ How clean their living space is now, and/or would be ideally

Allison’s incredibly neat-- everything organized, folded, and put away, but this has more to do with the fact that she’s almost always at work or doing research and isn’t home to make a mess. Living alone, especially, makes it easy to pick up after herself. Ideally, she’d have someone to create a little mess for her, a comfortable lived-in-ness.

☗ What you’d find in their cabinets

Red wine, spices, pasta from the gourmet market, chips, cat food, popcorn. 

#kaybiern

[doctorxgraham-blog]

♜,☂,♘,♒

♜ Interior decorating aesthetic

Allison’s focuses are minimalism, comfort, and neatness. Lots of beige, olive green, and brown-- blankets and a very cushy sofa with throw pillows, a wooden coffee table, a fluffy rug. She’s a soft person inside, so soft works on the outside, too.

☂ Favorite weather

Answered here!

♘ Any pets they might have

Allison has an orange tabby cat named Cheeto-- she didn’t name him, his name came with him from the shelter and she was too preoccupied to change it. 

♒ If they do their laundry in a timely manner

Allison is something of a neat-freak, so her laundry is done promptly and hung up-- for her, there’s really nothing more relaxing than chores. What a lovable weirdo. 

#witch-laine

[doctorxgraham-blog]

Allison nodded slowly. "I've only been here a month-- I'm not sure how much I can help you." She smiled grimly, and checked her watch. "But I'm in between appointments now--" If anything, she wanted to him to steer clear of the patients; no reason to have some reporter reminding them of the care they weren't being given. 

"The coffee in the cafeteria is pretty great," she supplied, hoping it would pique his interest.

“Me? I’m fine. Just doing a story on the problem with staffing lately at the Hospital.” After a moment he realized the woman probably had no clue who he was. “Peter Buran. Editor of the Devil’s Watch Observer.” He laughed. “We’ve been understaffed lately too. Hence me doing actual reporting work.” Not that he minded.

“You work here? If it isn’t a bother I’d love to talk to you when your shift ends.”

#peter001 #peterburan #conversation

[doctorxgraham-blog]

hi all! I’m back from my first day of school (how was it? you ask. fine, i answer. i got a papercut in my eye, so, it was great!) and ready to write-- I may throw up a starter later but come talk to me about plot or wanted connections 

#devilsooc

[doctorxgraham-blog]

♡, ☹, ✓

♡ What their wedding invitations would look like

Allison’s aesthetics are classical, but at the same time, she wouldn’t look for anything grand or overly elegant. Definitely simple, nice script, on creamy paper with an elegant border. (Lbr, she’s not really a wedding person, not super into tradition-- if she did the white gown thing, it would be a rather impromptu ceremony, at a small ceremony with a few close friends.)

☹ Response to a leaky faucet or other household problem

Allison doesn’t consider her apartment in Devil’s Watch her home, really: her work is her home, so any problems in her apartment would be resolved by a phone call to the superintendent and a check made out to a plumber. 

✓ What a typical Tuesday night looks like

Already answered here.

#undeadbawany

[doctorxgraham-blog]

☂, ♟, ○, ✓ !

☂ Favorite weather

Allison likes gray, bright days the best-- or else the weather right before a snowstorm, when everything seems to be crackling with a kind of unseen energy. 

♟ If they like board games, and how good they are at ‘em

Allison is not the board game type-- she’s the “I’m exceptionally satisfied with my career” type, which is kind of the antithesis of gaming, but if she could wind down enough to enjoy a board game, she’d be pretty good at them. 

○ What tune their doorbell has, if not a standard ding-dong

Allison’s doorbell is the preset doorbell sound; she didn’t think she’d be in Devil’s Watch long enough to set anything worth having. 

✓ What a typical Tuesday night looks like

Allison would get back from work late, around seven or eight, and takes a hot shower. Next is looking through the DVR with a glass of wine, abandoning that, looking at case files of her patients, making a light dinner of some kind. She’s a creature of solitude, so she could easily spend a night looking at albums or re-reading an old favorite book. 

[doctorxgraham-blog]

domestic headcanons meme!

Send a symbol to hear the following about my muse…

☾ Sleeping habits ☼ Favorite time of day ☂ Favorite weather ¿ Term for the TV device, whether it be “clicker”, “remote”, or something else ↪ Internet browsing activities ☹ Response to a leaky faucet or other household problem ♡ What their wedding invitations would look like ☃ What they wear around the house ♆ The worst kind of neighbor they could have, and how they deal with them ♨ Their cooking ability (or lack thereof) ✂ How well they do yardwork (or blow up the lawnmower) ♟ If they like board games, and how good they are at ‘em ✧ How clean their living space is now, and/or would be ideally ♜ Interior decorating aesthetic ♘ Any pets they might have ☗ What you’d find in their cabinets ⚒ What you’d find in their toolshed (if they’d have one) ▀ What they’d hide under the bed ○ What tune their doorbell has, if not a standard ding-dong ☺ What their welcome (or not-so-welcome) mat would say ☻ How late they stay up ♒ If they do their laundry in a timely manner ☆ How they’d throw parties (what would go on at them, refreshments, etc) ✓ What a typical Tuesday night looks like ❥ How they’d invite you home for the night (yes, it could be a pickup line)

Feel free to reblog and add more!

#ask meme