Only Machines I Can Trust [3a/??]
anonymous
April 9 2010, 20:35:05 UTC
Reasons for why I didn't update these past few days at the end. :U
Click. Day two, 6:27 am in the New York City area, log number five. Attempts at an interview have been, um… Unsuccessful to say the least. I've yet to meet the Director an am approximately three minutes from his office. However, with this hospital and my sense of direction, it might take ten. Probably longer. Until then, I will log back after I eet the Director, hopefully have an interview with him saved. Alfred Jones, out. Click.
--
Ah finally. The Directors office. Took long enough; must have been thirty minutes since he made his log. Too long to get from the Doctor's area and to the Director's Office. Well, he probably made the same turn like, eight times but if he did, he didn't know; all the rooms and waiting areas looked too similar, all of them too clean and too... Sterile to look comforting. It creeped Al out far too much.
Knocking on the door, and hearing a voice inside giving his consent to come in, Alfred opened the door and saw the Director. He was a thin man, looking no less than 120 pounds at, what looked like, 49 having a white labcoat as Kirkland had. Apparently, the doctors (or at least the ones Alfred was able to catch) had a thing for white coats. Under it however, was a white shirt tucked into brown work pants. Of course, Alfred was easily able to see this, due to the fact that it was wide open. “You must be the one from America. Please, have a seat.”
“Um, okay sure. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Director; I'd been waiting to speak to you since I first got in London.” Well, I was first aiming to speak to Kirkland and I got it, so I suppose speaking to you is my second-most priority, Alfred thought. But he supposed it didn't really matter, especially after seeing the Director's face light up from that statement.
“Oh, please call me Thomas. And thank you, Mr. Jones; it's a pleasure to know.” The director sounded like he wanted to add something, but stopped himself halfway. Alfred's curiosity peeked in his body but it was shooed away.
“Alfred, please. I actually have a request which I believe would help me in making my article for when I get back to the States.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I was wondering if it may be possible if you and I could have an interview, mainly about your hospital and what you guys see, and I could record it on my recorder.” Alfred held up his half-beaten voice recorder. The Director shrugged, a small smile on his face.
“By all means, if it may help you write your article.” With a ‘Thank you so much!’, Alfred adjusted the recorder in his hands and pressed the button.
Click. “I am currently in the Director’s office, speaking to the Director of the hospital himself, Mr. Thomas Kinlan. Mr. Kinlan, exactly what does your hospital have about itself? What are some of the more stronger points?”
“*cough cough * Well, our hospital is one of the oldest hospitals in all of London. We currently are understaffed what with our former doctors outside on the battlefield, tending to who who must be tended to immediately, but I suppose that simply means that we are entirely 100% devoted to this war.”
“What about your staff, or the patients you tend to see?”
“Well as of late, we’ve seen quite a few men from the constant Blitz attacks, usually from the port, and I can only hope that these attacks from the Germans do not last that long. As for our staff, as I have said before we are currently understaffed, but we make up our lack of men with our surplus in optimism.”
“What do you mean about the Blitz attacks? Isn’t London being hit as well?”
“No. Right now, it’s only the port of London, and even then little men had reached us. However during the Dunkirk evacuation, when there were more people on staff, quite a lot were sent here to be treated. Even I had to help out. I must admit, the soldiers from Dunkirk had been ruined quite badly. Many were missing body parts, were horribly burnt and/or would probably have been better left for dead.”
“That sounds horrible. How long did it take to get everyone attended to and accounted for?”
Only Machines I Can Trust [3b/??]
anonymous
April 9 2010, 20:37:10 UTC
“The entire day. Since I had first worked here as a doctor’s apprentice, I had never seen that many people here at a time. It was truly amazing. All I hope to be honest is that with the Blitz attacks, we won't have to experience that anymore first-hand.”
“Mmm… How long has your hospital been active?”
“Ooh, now that's a hard one. Ummm... Probably a little over 20 years? Give or take a few? If you're asking how old this hospital is, that I cannot answer.”
“Hmm.. Well, I believe that's all I need Mr. Kinlan, thank you.” Click
“Oh you're welcome.” Thomas had smiled, after the recorded interview had been ended. The Director was smiling quite brightly, in contrast to before during the interview, when he sat calmly, answering the questions without a hitch, almost like he practiced saying it.
“Now, Thomas, if I may ask of a personal, nonexistent request from you...” Alfred had (somewhat) smoothly slipped the secrecy card to the Director, who immediately caught on with his furrowed brow and perplexed emotion, his face being the one who spilled it. “I want to know if it's possible if may switch my interview client, Arthur Kirkland, to someone else. Kirkland is just... A little too rough for me.” The sigh alarmed Alfred.
“Well, again, our hospital is understaffed. I don't know if I can be able to give you a new Doctor to interview who consents. Kirkland... He may seem sour, but you really just need to crack him and... You'll get what you want, and some more.” The Director went from cheered to serious at the drop of a dime. Alfred was a little intimidated by it, but also a little confused at the late part. What did he mean by 'and some more'? And what of that pause? Alfred opened his mouth to ask what the Director meant, but the beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep of a pager rang through the room.
“Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Jones but I need to go; I'm needed for something urgent. I'll hopefully see you soon!” was all he said before Alfred was left in the Director's office, confused beyond his mind as he did what he could do in this situation.
-
Click. 8:02 am in New York City, log number six. I'm now starting to suspect there's something going on with Kirkland. I might just stick with him; see what I'll get with it. Hopefully it'll help my article.” Click.
A/N: Okei. Fifty dollars you're all wondering why I haven't updated in x days. Well, if you look above, before the first part, my explanation's there, but because I'm nice, I'll cut and paste re-explain here.
Two days ago I had a total emotional meltdown and it overall was my bipolar day. Yeah was not fun. About yesterday, I just. Avoided my responsibilities. xDD; Sorry. I also should add this: I might not be able to update Saturday. My family is have a party and I'm the one who's stuck looking over all the little kids so I may not get time to myself on my laptop. I might be able to get on and update, but I dunno yet. :U
S'yeah. Real life came by and ripped me apart. Oh and also if the writing style at the end seems different from the beginning, that's cause I started rereading Atonement by Ian McEwan (which I'm using to help me for the next part) and his writing style is rubbing off on me, which I think is a good thing because. McEwan is simply amazing. Like srsly. Read Atonement then watch the movie. NAO. AUTHOR!ANON DEMANDS IT. D:
Re: Only Machines I Can Trust [3b/??]
anonymous
April 10 2010, 04:27:27 UTC
...I didn't even notice you'd missed day(s) updating. Found this yesterday. OTL
I adore this too pieces. And thanks for telling me above what the time period was. ^.^ I will do my best to get my mitts on that book. *determined face*
I'm absolutely loving what you're doing with this. I love Alfred's explanation of Arthur being "a little too rough" when trying to switch clients. Totally an Alfred thing to say, I think, given the interaction between the two.
And please feel better! I can relate to the emotional issues. Don't pressure yourself into deadlines - take your time! No need to rush. What you have so far is brilliant. c:
Oh no, I'm better. I'm still a little disappointed in myself, but as my older sister had said 'At least you're fucking up for free' because she had fucked up in college like three times, and had to pay all three times so yeah. xD My family has a colorful past. Let's just keep it at that.
O-Oh really? You really think it's brilliant? ;u; I'M SO RELIEVED. I was stuck on this part too, especially the interview because I felt that it was too short but I didn't know what else to add so I was like 'AUUUGH' and whatnot. The next part'll be awesome, I can tell you that. :D
Re: Only Machines I Can Trust [3b/??]
anonymous
April 12 2010, 19:30:23 UTC
Hello! It's the anon who told you to go and fuck RL
I'm torn. On one hand I feel really guilty for having been pushing you when you were having a hard time on the other... /fuck this, author!anon added a new part. be happy./ Yeah ^^ But seriously, this story is getting more delicious and... I can't wait for more interaction between our sweet boys ^^ *yes, I just called Artie sweet.* Oh...Atonement? I shall! *anon knows very well how lit/movies totally affect the fics >.>*
/recaptcha: reusing at. What are we reusing captcha?
Ahahaha, don't feel sorryy~ Infact, you and the other anon were the ones that really pushed me to actually update the fic, so I should be thanking you. :D
Kesesesesesesesese... (* ω*) Ohohoho, it'll get very delicious... Trust me... *'kolkol's and 'kesese's in the background*
Now if you excuse me, I have to finish writing this part, which is when the real shit goes down! Author anon out.
Re: Author!Anon
anonymous
April 14 2010, 02:16:57 UTC
Who said I'm human?
Er, again, my bad. I'm in school and like. I don't know how to go through the new chapter. :v I've attempted but I'm annoyed and I'm thinking of scrapping the beginning and just going at it from a different approach, but idkkk. ;A; I dunno... :/ I'm (hopefully) gonna update later today, my sleep being the sacrifice, but yeah. v:
OH LOL if Captcha is trying to guess what's gonna happen, its far off, I can say that much. xD
Only Machines I Can Trust [3b/??]
anonymous
April 9 2010, 20:38:11 UTC
“The entire day. Since I had first worked here as a doctor’s apprentice, I had never seen that many people here at a time. It was truly amazing. All I hope to be honest is that with the Blitz attacks, we won't have to experience that anymore first-hand.”
“Mmm… How long has your hospital been active?”
“Ooh, now that's a hard one. Ummm... Probably a little over 20 years? Give or take a few? If you're asking how old this hospital is, that I cannot answer.”
“Hmm.. Well, I believe that's all I need Mr. Kinlan, thank you.” Click
“Oh you're welcome.” Thomas had smiled, after the recorded interview had been ended. The Director was smiling quite brightly, in contrast to before during the interview, when he sat calmly, answering the questions without a hitch, almost like he practiced saying it.
“Now, Thomas, if I may ask of a personal, nonexistent request from you...” Alfred had (somewhat) smoothly slipped the secrecy card to the Director, who immediately caught on with his furrowed brow and perplexed emotion, his face being the one who spilled it. “I want to know if it's possible if may switch my interview client, Arthur Kirkland, to someone else. Kirkland is just... A little too rough for me.” The sigh alarmed Alfred.
“Well, again, our hospital is understaffed. I don't know if I can be able to give you a new Doctor to interview who consents. Kirkland... He may seem sour, but you really just need to crack him and... You'll get what you want, and some more.” The Director went from cheered to serious at the drop of a dime. Alfred was a little intimidated by it, but also a little confused at the late part. What did he mean by 'and some more'? And what of that pause? Alfred opened his mouth to ask what the Director meant, but the beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep of a pager rang through the room.
“Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Jones but I need to go; I'm needed for something urgent. I'll hopefully see you soon!” was all he said before Alfred was left in the Director's office, confused beyond his mind as he did what he could do in this situation.
-
Click. 8:02 am in New York City, log number six. I'm now starting to suspect there's something going on with Kirkland. I might just stick with him; see what I'll get with it. Hopefully it'll help my article.” Click.
A/N: Okei. Fifty dollars you're all wondering why I haven't updated in x days. Well, if you look above, before the first part, my explanation's there, but because I'm nice, I'll cut and paste re-explain here.
Two days ago I had a total emotional meltdown and it overall was my bipolar day. Yeah was not fun. About yesterday, I just. Avoided my responsibilities. xDD; Sorry. I also should add this: I might not be able to update Saturday. My family is have a party and I'm the one who's stuck looking over all the little kids so I may not get time to myself on my laptop. I might be able to get on and update, but I dunno yet. :U
S'yeah. Real life came by and ripped me apart. Oh and also if the writing style at the end seems different from the beginning, that's cause I started rereading Atonement by Ian McEwan (which I'm using to help me for the next part) and his writing style is rubbing off on me, which I think is a good thing because. McEwan is simply amazing. Like srsly. Read Atonement then watch the movie. NAO. AUTHOR!ANON DEMANDS IT. >:U
Only Machines I Can Trust [4a/??]
anonymous
April 14 2010, 03:51:01 UTC
Click. Day three, the date is September 7th, 1940, 11:40 am in New york City, log seven. After meeting with the Director and having my interview, he left to apparently meet with a patient who was undergoing birth. After her baby was out, a nurse looked, found and spoke to me, saying that the Director had given me permission to stay at the hospital for a place to be until I had my article up and done. After a load of persuasion, I got my things from my hotel and I'm now currently under the actual hospital itself, where it has several separated rooms and in the center, a large empty area. I can only really assume that it's to store beds or something. *siiigh * Well, I suppose that's about it. Alf-*BOOOOOM! BOOOOM!* Get everyone downstairs now, as many people, as many patients, as much equipments, anything! Now, this is not a drill! D-Director...? O-Oh, AlfredJonesout! Click. - Click. *siiigh* Why am I doing this? I really shouldn't be reporting on something this serious... People are in horrible shape... Ugh, I just-... I-I just can't. Click. - Click. *siigh* Okay. I think I can actually do it this time... *exhaaaale* Day three/four, 1:15 am in London, England, September 8th, 1940, log eight. During the last log, German bombers had finally hit London. Everyone in the hospital had to be rushed downstairs until it was over and done with. After, we rushed everything back upstairs, yours truly helping. The hospital started letting patients in, nurses helping the doctors bringing in the wounded and-... *gulp* Let us simply say that it isn't exactly the thing you want to remember from your visit to London. *shudder...* I-I really shouldn't be doing this... Not this soon... But I promised myself that I would catalog every day , and I'm not breaking my vow... It... I guess I might be going a little too far... *sigh* Click.
-
Kirkland sighed. Walking about the floor, the floor where the Blitz attack victims were the most severe, Kirkland was able to absorb the fruits of his six-hour labor. Well, if they were fruit, they must've been horribly rotten fruit, where the extremely lucky had at least one piece of shrapnel lodged somewhere into their bodies and where the least lucky were found, dead, most with ripped limbs or horribly burnt skin, skin beyond repairing if they could. The former had usually died of blood loss, a slow death, and the latter would have died due to being burnt alive, an equally slow and twice as painful process. Sans his shoes making a rubber crunch on the ground, the entire floor was dead silent, a few snores here and a few whines or cries there. It was the sound of clack clack clack clack clack against the ground when Kirkland snapped his head up to fact the silhouetted figure speedwalking towards him.
The charts. The nurses, an unnamed one, had handed them to him, and one name in specific stuck out to Kirkland. Walker. Andrew Walker. A childhood friend. He was in London? He was hit in the attacks? Kirkland pushed aside his questions and did what he could do: see the patient with his own eyes.
It really was Andrew. Holy shit. To say he looked horrible, to say he looked dead, to say he looked like he was living in hell, it would all be understatements. Two pieces of shrapnel had lodged themselves into his face, one into his left eye and the other into his right cheek, going past the skin and right into the gums. A large bandage was wrapped around his head, approximately half of it covered in blood, the scarlet dripping a stain into the (no longer) pure pillow sheet. All that was left of his left arm was more blood with white gauzes trying to keep the blood from leaking out profusely. The entire lower part had looked like it had burnt to a golden brown, to be honest, as if he were a rotisserie chicken.
Only Machines I Can Trust [4b/??]
anonymous
April 14 2010, 04:00:02 UTC
A gag in his throat warned Kirkland, warned him to stay away and pretend to have never saw the name on the chart, to go back to the Doctor's rest area and have a swig to drown out the memories and normally, he would have listened. But this time, a voice in his head called out, saying that he needed to face the music, saying that he needed to see his last evidence of his cheerful past, or at least the last piece of evidence that he managed to remember past the alcohol. So with a disgusted expression, Kirkland managed to sit down next to the patient (Mustn't refer to him by name. He mustn't refer to the patients by name, or he will get connected to them), just as Walker decided to flutter his eyes slightly and had noticed the man with the tossed blonde hair, caterpillar eyebrows and bleached doctor labcoat. "A-Arthur...? Is th-that you...?" Half his syllables were lost under the metal in his mouth, but Kirkland was able to get the gist of what he asked.
No Kirkland, don't fall into the trap. He will die soon, and you can't let your cover go just because of one bleeding patient. Remember Kirkland: He's just another patient; that's it, The gag from earlier had manifested itself into a voice in his mind, a plaguing voice, a manipulative voice. A smaller voice, a quieter one, a shyer one, had responded back, acting as the 'angel' in the 'Angel and Devil' scenario. Or at least for Kirkland, the smaller one was the Devil a majority of the time.
No, you can't... You know this man, he isn't just some patient. He has a name. He has a face and he has a past. He has a past with you. If you disregard him, you're telling him he can go fuck himself, and you will regret it when he dies. Now normally, the former one would've outmatched the smaller voice, but this time that was not the case as Kirkland's - no, not Kirkland's - as Arthur's shell had cracked and before he knew it, tears were flying from his ducts and his body shook in violent sobs, Andrew's hand on Arthur's forehead.
"A-A-Arthur..! A-Are you okay?!" Again, half lost under the metal but once more, Arthur was able to understand what he meant to say, responding with even more shakes and even more sobs that anyone on the floor would've been able to hear.
"An-Andrew... It's b-been so *gasp* l-long.. *gasp, gasp, sob* I-I *sob, sniff* I m-miss you a-and our past..." Followed by more sobs and gasps for air, Andrew managed to take his hand out from Arthur's forehead and tilt the crying one's head. Arthur's face was covered in tear tracks, ones that had already gone and ones that were going, a little bit of clear snot running from his nose and his eyes practically magnified by the amount of welled-up tears still waiting to break.
"Arthur, d-don't focus on the p-past. Focus on n-now. Now w-we're together. N-Now we can t-talk to each other, albeit c-conditions. If you n-need to cry, cry. I-I can't, nor w-will stop you." Andrew knew what to say. He always knew what to say. He was practically a public speaker. At Andrew's words, still jumbled up, Arthur's face turned more dreadful as he lunged himself onto Andrew, still shaking like he was thrown into the freezing snow of winter. Under a small gasp of shock, Arthur had initially assumed, Andrew's body lie quietly, and after no longer feeling the steady beat under Andrew's neck, Kirkland stood back up, wiping his face off with his jacket sleeve, and left from behind the curtain.
Jones was there. No; he couldn't handle him too. Still recovering from the transition from Kirkland to Arthur, Kirkland merely glared at the younger male, whose face he noticed was filled with a sort of pity, a sort of compassion. Well, may Kirkland be damned if he would ever accept the pity from a bright-eyed child. Refusing to say a word, only letting his stained red eyes, the poison from under it and the matching deadly scowl speak for him, Kirkland walked away in silence, not noticing Jones taking his recorder and clicking a button on it.
Click. 1:06 am in England, log nine ... *sigh * Click.
Re: Only Machines I Can Trust [AN notes]
anonymous
April 14 2010, 04:01:15 UTC
The serious meat-and-bone of the story. :U
I think this part is literally one of my overall best; not just with this fic, but like. Ever. Also we get into the ACTUAL mind of our alcoholic doctor! :D But you already knew that. xDDDD
I finished the last part and then I was like 'Hmm, what do I do for the next par-- ARTHUR BREAKS LOL OKAY' so I made from when he received the charts to the end in like, a few hours, and then the beginning part, I started yesterday, but got stuck with because I was going at a different angle, decided that was horrible, and then I got beginning we have here. :U
Also, I posted the part I worked on before on my dee-aye account, where I have some other works (through in small numbers) and if I get enough people to ask, I'll deanon after I finish. :U
Re: Only Machines I Can Trust [AN notes]
anonymous
April 14 2010, 17:05:36 UTC
It's amazing anon. This fic is shaping up to be one of my favs in this meme. The details, the emotions... It's just that the words you chose to form a sentence makes those sentences flow so easily has we read them.
Click. Day two, 6:27 am in the New York City area, log number five. Attempts at an interview have been, um… Unsuccessful to say the least. I've yet to meet the Director an am approximately three minutes from his office. However, with this hospital and my sense of direction, it might take ten. Probably longer. Until then, I will log back after I eet the Director, hopefully have an interview with him saved. Alfred Jones, out. Click.
--
Ah finally. The Directors office. Took long enough; must have been thirty minutes since he made his log. Too long to get from the Doctor's area and to the Director's Office. Well, he probably made the same turn like, eight times but if he did, he didn't know; all the rooms and waiting areas looked too similar, all of them too clean and too... Sterile to look comforting. It creeped Al out far too much.
Knocking on the door, and hearing a voice inside giving his consent to come in, Alfred opened the door and saw the Director. He was a thin man, looking no less than 120 pounds at, what looked like, 49 having a white labcoat as Kirkland had. Apparently, the doctors (or at least the ones Alfred was able to catch) had a thing for white coats. Under it however, was a white shirt tucked into brown work pants. Of course, Alfred was easily able to see this, due to the fact that it was wide open. “You must be the one from America. Please, have a seat.”
“Um, okay sure. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Director; I'd been waiting to speak to you since I first got in London.” Well, I was first aiming to speak to Kirkland and I got it, so I suppose speaking to you is my second-most priority, Alfred thought. But he supposed it didn't really matter, especially after seeing the Director's face light up from that statement.
“Oh, please call me Thomas. And thank you, Mr. Jones; it's a pleasure to know.” The director sounded like he wanted to add something, but stopped himself halfway. Alfred's curiosity peeked in his body but it was shooed away.
“Alfred, please. I actually have a request which I believe would help me in making my article for when I get back to the States.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I was wondering if it may be possible if you and I could have an interview, mainly about your hospital and what you guys see, and I could record it on my recorder.” Alfred held up his half-beaten voice recorder. The Director shrugged, a small smile on his face.
“By all means, if it may help you write your article.” With a ‘Thank you so much!’, Alfred adjusted the recorder in his hands and pressed the button.
Click. “I am currently in the Director’s office, speaking to the Director of the hospital himself, Mr. Thomas Kinlan. Mr. Kinlan, exactly what does your hospital have about itself? What are some of the more stronger points?”
“*cough cough * Well, our hospital is one of the oldest hospitals in all of London. We currently are understaffed what with our former doctors outside on the battlefield, tending to who who must be tended to immediately, but I suppose that simply means that we are entirely 100% devoted to this war.”
“What about your staff, or the patients you tend to see?”
“Well as of late, we’ve seen quite a few men from the constant Blitz attacks, usually from the port, and I can only hope that these attacks from the Germans do not last that long. As for our staff, as I have said before we are currently understaffed, but we make up our lack of men with our surplus in optimism.”
“What do you mean about the Blitz attacks? Isn’t London being hit as well?”
“No. Right now, it’s only the port of London, and even then little men had reached us. However during the Dunkirk evacuation, when there were more people on staff, quite a lot were sent here to be treated. Even I had to help out. I must admit, the soldiers from Dunkirk had been ruined quite badly. Many were missing body parts, were horribly burnt and/or would probably have been better left for dead.”
“That sounds horrible. How long did it take to get everyone attended to and accounted for?”
Reply
“Mmm… How long has your hospital been active?”
“Ooh, now that's a hard one. Ummm... Probably a little over 20 years? Give or take a few? If you're asking how old this hospital is, that I cannot answer.”
“Hmm.. Well, I believe that's all I need Mr. Kinlan, thank you.” Click
“Oh you're welcome.” Thomas had smiled, after the recorded interview had been ended. The Director was smiling quite brightly, in contrast to before during the interview, when he sat calmly, answering the questions without a hitch, almost like he practiced saying it.
“Now, Thomas, if I may ask of a personal, nonexistent request from you...” Alfred had (somewhat) smoothly slipped the secrecy card to the Director, who immediately caught on with his furrowed brow and perplexed emotion, his face being the one who spilled it. “I want to know if it's possible if may switch my interview client, Arthur Kirkland, to someone else. Kirkland is just... A little too rough for me.” The sigh alarmed Alfred.
“Well, again, our hospital is understaffed. I don't know if I can be able to give you a new Doctor to interview who consents. Kirkland... He may seem sour, but you really just need to crack him and... You'll get what you want, and some more.” The Director went from cheered to serious at the drop of a dime. Alfred was a little intimidated by it, but also a little confused at the late part. What did he mean by 'and some more'? And what of that pause? Alfred opened his mouth to ask what the Director meant, but the beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep of a pager rang through the room.
“Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Jones but I need to go; I'm needed for something urgent. I'll hopefully see you soon!” was all he said before Alfred was left in the Director's office, confused beyond his mind as he did what he could do in this situation.
-
Click. 8:02 am in New York City, log number six. I'm now starting to suspect there's something going on with Kirkland. I might just stick with him; see what I'll get with it. Hopefully it'll help my article.” Click.
A/N: Okei. Fifty dollars you're all wondering why I haven't updated in x days. Well, if you look above, before the first part, my explanation's there, but because I'm nice, I'll cut and paste re-explain here.
Two days ago I had a total emotional meltdown and it overall was my bipolar day. Yeah was not fun. About yesterday, I just. Avoided my responsibilities. xDD; Sorry.
I also should add this: I might not be able to update Saturday. My family is have a party and I'm the one who's stuck looking over all the little kids so I may not get time to myself on my laptop. I might be able to get on and update, but I dunno yet. :U
S'yeah. Real life came by and ripped me apart. Oh and also if the writing style at the end seems different from the beginning, that's cause I started rereading Atonement by Ian McEwan (which I'm using to help me for the next part) and his writing style is rubbing off on me, which I think is a good thing because. McEwan is simply amazing. Like srsly. Read Atonement then watch the movie. NAO. AUTHOR!ANON DEMANDS IT. D:
Reply
Con someone give this to the mods so they'll delete it? |D;
Reply
I adore this too pieces. And thanks for telling me above what the time period was. ^.^
I will do my best to get my mitts on that book. *determined face*
Reply
And please feel better! I can relate to the emotional issues. Don't pressure yourself into deadlines - take your time! No need to rush. What you have so far is brilliant. c:
Looking forward to reading more!
Reply
Oh no, I'm better. I'm still a little disappointed in myself, but as my older sister had said 'At least you're fucking up for free' because she had fucked up in college like three times, and had to pay all three times so yeah. xD
My family has a colorful past. Let's just keep it at that.
O-Oh really? You really think it's brilliant? ;u; I'M SO RELIEVED. I was stuck on this part too, especially the interview because I felt that it was too short but I didn't know what else to add so I was like 'AUUUGH' and whatnot. The next part'll be awesome, I can tell you that. :D
in short:
THANK YOU. :D
Reply
I'm torn. On one hand I feel really guilty for having been pushing you when you were having a hard time on the other... /fuck this, author!anon added a new part. be happy./
Yeah ^^
But seriously, this story is getting more delicious and... I can't wait for more interaction between our sweet boys ^^ *yes, I just called Artie sweet.*
Oh...Atonement? I shall! *anon knows very well how lit/movies totally affect the fics >.>*
/recaptcha: reusing at. What are we reusing captcha?
Reply
Kesesesesesesesese... (* ω*) Ohohoho, it'll get very delicious... Trust me... *'kolkol's and 'kesese's in the background*
Now if you excuse me, I have to finish writing this part, which is when the real shit goes down! Author anon out.
Reply
Humans don't tease poor little fangirls like that and then not post anything for a whoooole day D:
PS: catpcha's talking about 'squeezing' . Captcha's one dirty fangirl.
Reply
Er, again, my bad. I'm in school and like. I don't know how to go through the new chapter. :v I've attempted but I'm annoyed and I'm thinking of scrapping the beginning and just going at it from a different approach, but idkkk. ;A;
I dunno... :/
I'm (hopefully) gonna update later today, my sleep being the sacrifice, but yeah. v:
OH LOL if Captcha is trying to guess what's gonna happen, its far off, I can say that much. xD
Reply
“Mmm… How long has your hospital been active?”
“Ooh, now that's a hard one. Ummm... Probably a little over 20 years? Give or take a few? If you're asking how old this hospital is, that I cannot answer.”
“Hmm.. Well, I believe that's all I need Mr. Kinlan, thank you.” Click
“Oh you're welcome.” Thomas had smiled, after the recorded interview had been ended. The Director was smiling quite brightly, in contrast to before during the interview, when he sat calmly, answering the questions without a hitch, almost like he practiced saying it.
“Now, Thomas, if I may ask of a personal, nonexistent request from you...” Alfred had (somewhat) smoothly slipped the secrecy card to the Director, who immediately caught on with his furrowed brow and perplexed emotion, his face being the one who spilled it. “I want to know if it's possible if may switch my interview client, Arthur Kirkland, to someone else. Kirkland is just... A little too rough for me.” The sigh alarmed Alfred.
“Well, again, our hospital is understaffed. I don't know if I can be able to give you a new Doctor to interview who consents. Kirkland... He may seem sour, but you really just need to crack him and... You'll get what you want, and some more.” The Director went from cheered to serious at the drop of a dime. Alfred was a little intimidated by it, but also a little confused at the late part. What did he mean by 'and some more'? And what of that pause? Alfred opened his mouth to ask what the Director meant, but the beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep of a pager rang through the room.
“Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Jones but I need to go; I'm needed for something urgent. I'll hopefully see you soon!” was all he said before Alfred was left in the Director's office, confused beyond his mind as he did what he could do in this situation.
-
Click. 8:02 am in New York City, log number six. I'm now starting to suspect there's something going on with Kirkland. I might just stick with him; see what I'll get with it. Hopefully it'll help my article.” Click.
A/N: Okei. Fifty dollars you're all wondering why I haven't updated in x days. Well, if you look above, before the first part, my explanation's there, but because I'm nice, I'll cut and paste re-explain here.
Two days ago I had a total emotional meltdown and it overall was my bipolar day. Yeah was not fun. About yesterday, I just. Avoided my responsibilities. xDD; Sorry.
I also should add this: I might not be able to update Saturday. My family is have a party and I'm the one who's stuck looking over all the little kids so I may not get time to myself on my laptop. I might be able to get on and update, but I dunno yet. :U
S'yeah. Real life came by and ripped me apart. Oh and also if the writing style at the end seems different from the beginning, that's cause I started rereading Atonement by Ian McEwan (which I'm using to help me for the next part) and his writing style is rubbing off on me, which I think is a good thing because. McEwan is simply amazing. Like srsly. Read Atonement then watch the movie. NAO. AUTHOR!ANON DEMANDS IT. >:U
Reply
-
Click. *siiigh* Why am I doing this? I really shouldn't be reporting on something this serious... People are in horrible shape... Ugh, I just-... I-I just can't. Click.
-
Click. *siigh* Okay. I think I can actually do it this time... *exhaaaale* Day three/four, 1:15 am in London, England, September 8th, 1940, log eight. During the last log, German bombers had finally hit London. Everyone in the hospital had to be rushed downstairs until it was over and done with. After, we rushed everything back upstairs, yours truly helping. The hospital started letting patients in, nurses helping the doctors bringing in the wounded and-... *gulp* Let us simply say that it isn't exactly the thing you want to remember from your visit to London. *shudder...* I-I really shouldn't be doing this... Not this soon... But I promised myself that I would catalog every day , and I'm not breaking my vow... It... I guess I might be going a little too far... *sigh* Click.
-
Kirkland sighed. Walking about the floor, the floor where the Blitz attack victims were the most severe, Kirkland was able to absorb the fruits of his six-hour labor. Well, if they were fruit, they must've been horribly rotten fruit, where the extremely lucky had at least one piece of shrapnel lodged somewhere into their bodies and where the least lucky were found, dead, most with ripped limbs or horribly burnt skin, skin beyond repairing if they could. The former had usually died of blood loss, a slow death, and the latter would have died due to being burnt alive, an equally slow and twice as painful process. Sans his shoes making a rubber crunch on the ground, the entire floor was dead silent, a few snores here and a few whines or cries there. It was the sound of clack clack clack clack clack against the ground when Kirkland snapped his head up to fact the silhouetted figure speedwalking towards him.
The charts. The nurses, an unnamed one, had handed them to him, and one name in specific stuck out to Kirkland. Walker. Andrew Walker. A childhood friend. He was in London? He was hit in the attacks? Kirkland pushed aside his questions and did what he could do: see the patient with his own eyes.
It really was Andrew. Holy shit. To say he looked horrible, to say he looked dead, to say he looked like he was living in hell, it would all be understatements. Two pieces of shrapnel had lodged themselves into his face, one into his left eye and the other into his right cheek, going past the skin and right into the gums. A large bandage was wrapped around his head, approximately half of it covered in blood, the scarlet dripping a stain into the (no longer) pure pillow sheet. All that was left of his left arm was more blood with white gauzes trying to keep the blood from leaking out profusely. The entire lower part had looked like it had burnt to a golden brown, to be honest, as if he were a rotisserie chicken.
Reply
No Kirkland, don't fall into the trap. He will die soon, and you can't let your cover go just because of one bleeding patient. Remember Kirkland: He's just another patient; that's it, The gag from earlier had manifested itself into a voice in his mind, a plaguing voice, a manipulative voice. A smaller voice, a quieter one, a shyer one, had responded back, acting as the 'angel' in the 'Angel and Devil' scenario. Or at least for Kirkland, the smaller one was the Devil a majority of the time.
No, you can't... You know this man, he isn't just some patient. He has a name. He has a face and he has a past. He has a past with you. If you disregard him, you're telling him he can go fuck himself, and you will regret it when he dies. Now normally, the former one would've outmatched the smaller voice, but this time that was not the case as Kirkland's - no, not Kirkland's - as Arthur's shell had cracked and before he knew it, tears were flying from his ducts and his body shook in violent sobs, Andrew's hand on Arthur's forehead.
"A-A-Arthur..! A-Are you okay?!" Again, half lost under the metal but once more, Arthur was able to understand what he meant to say, responding with even more shakes and even more sobs that anyone on the floor would've been able to hear.
"An-Andrew... It's b-been so *gasp* l-long.. *gasp, gasp, sob* I-I *sob, sniff* I m-miss you a-and our past..." Followed by more sobs and gasps for air, Andrew managed to take his hand out from Arthur's forehead and tilt the crying one's head. Arthur's face was covered in tear tracks, ones that had already gone and ones that were going, a little bit of clear snot running from his nose and his eyes practically magnified by the amount of welled-up tears still waiting to break.
"Arthur, d-don't focus on the p-past. Focus on n-now. Now w-we're together. N-Now we can t-talk to each other, albeit c-conditions. If you n-need to cry, cry. I-I can't, nor w-will stop you." Andrew knew what to say. He always knew what to say. He was practically a public speaker. At Andrew's words, still jumbled up, Arthur's face turned more dreadful as he lunged himself onto Andrew, still shaking like he was thrown into the freezing snow of winter. Under a small gasp of shock, Arthur had initially assumed, Andrew's body lie quietly, and after no longer feeling the steady beat under Andrew's neck, Kirkland stood back up, wiping his face off with his jacket sleeve, and left from behind the curtain.
Jones was there. No; he couldn't handle him too. Still recovering from the transition from Kirkland to Arthur, Kirkland merely glared at the younger male, whose face he noticed was filled with a sort of pity, a sort of compassion. Well, may Kirkland be damned if he would ever accept the pity from a bright-eyed child. Refusing to say a word, only letting his stained red eyes, the poison from under it and the matching deadly scowl speak for him, Kirkland walked away in silence, not noticing Jones taking his recorder and clicking a button on it.
Click. 1:06 am in England, log nine ... *sigh * Click.
Reply
I think this part is literally one of my overall best; not just with this fic, but like. Ever. Also we get into the ACTUAL mind of our alcoholic doctor! :D
But you already knew that. xDDDD
I finished the last part and then I was like 'Hmm, what do I do for the next par-- ARTHUR BREAKS LOL OKAY' so I made from when he received the charts to the end in like, a few hours, and then the beginning part, I started yesterday, but got stuck with because I was going at a different angle, decided that was horrible, and then I got beginning we have here. :U
Also, I posted the part I worked on before on my dee-aye account, where I have some other works (through in small numbers) and if I get enough people to ask, I'll deanon after I finish. :U
So.... How is it? ouo
Reply
Updates will span between one to five days. If it's more than five days, I will notify beforehand but yeah. :U
Reply
So yeah, you did good!
Reply
Leave a comment