( Pff, please, name one thing about their introduction that came off as worry-worthy, you can't, it can't be done, it was completely healthy and totally fine.
The good news is he's had a little time to level out and get his shit together, so that's nice.
About as “okay” as things can be in this world, I guess. Nothing earth-shaking happening just yet, but give it another day or two.
I was actually just checking in with you. I know it’s not easy adapting to a new world altogether, and you were pretty shaken when we met. Hope that’s not too presumptuous of me.
I hit you with a baseball bat, so I guess that's a pretty fair assessment.
Which, by the way, sorry about that again.
But yeah, I'm okay. This definitely isn't the weirdest thing I've seen, it just kind of happened at a really Really Really I cannot emphasize this enough: Really Bad time.
I did get that impression. This place has great timing, doesn’t it?
Don’t worry about the baseball bat; I’ve really been struck by a lot worse. And I’m not exactly the best person for this, but I’ll offer anyway: whether or not you trust ADI, the medical and counseling departments are there for a reason. You can find me pretty easily at the former.
Not that you didn’t already know it if you were stuck at that job fair like the rest of us.
Maybe, actually. I talked to the pink haired man who isn't a cow at the fair, and he had some really awesome tea, but he said I might actually need to talk to one of the prescribing doctors about something.
[The cow guy. Stephen has an idea of who that might be. Not that it particularly matters.]
Generally, yes. I’m one of them. But everyone’s specializations are disparate in medical, given individual experience, so it depends on what’s ailing you.
It's a brain thing. FFI. I don't sleep, so it's mostly of the dealing with the side-effects variety.
( Which is to say, anti-psychotics for the hallucinations, lost time, disorientation, paranoia. Just your standard, totally run-of-the-mill thing that doesn't feel even remotely weird to talk about with a guy you whacked with a baseball bat. )
( But he's going to opt for convenient because pursuing the suspicious route would probably make him seem paranoid, which his mind kindly advises him would make him seem crazier than he's really angling to present right now, thanks. )
I stopped sleeping a long time ago. Months, maybe a little over a year? I don't know, I lost track.
Sleep aids don't work. Nothing works. This is the part where people tend to start listing off things that might work, so let me save you some time. It won't work.
Literally nothing works.
( Which annoyed the hell out of a couple of gods — demigods — powerful cosmic aliens? Whatever you call them. )
How about “coincidental”? I used to be a brain surgeon. I can’t really pull up my resume for you here, though, so you’ll just have to trust me on that.
A year? That sounds less like a brain disorder and more like a curse. [FFI is a serious disorder—it’s in the name, after all—but one that progresses over time. A full year of not sleeping even intermittently? Unheard of in scientific circles; mystical, not so much.] Are you sure there’s nothing supernatural you’re not accounting for?
A weird lady did forcibly read my palm one time and told me I have a curse, but I think it was this other unrelated thing.
( aka "you're cursed to watch all your friends die", which is fun.
On a more significant note, Stephen's not wrong about there being something distinctly off about the whole thing. Not that Jack knows it — or at least he doesn't know why yet. )
I mean, it's possible I guess. It's just that I had a couple of... like really powerful things try to knock me out. I could be wrong, but I get the feeling the Dark God would probably be able to... Counter-spell? Is that a thing outside of Dungeons & Dragons? Whatever the case, a bunch of insane beings have tried to knock me out and couldn't do it.
Either way, yeah, I know, total medical outlier, I should be super dead. The number of people I keep outliving is astounding.
Actually Wait You're a brain doctor and a sorcerer Best of both worlds, right? Is this like a thing you can Scan or something?
[The best of both worlds — the man of science and the man of mysticism. Too bad half of that man has been sheared off by way of simply being here.]
If anything, I’d say that supernatural entities failing to knock you out is proof that it isn’t just physiological. Assuming the rules aren’t completely different in your world.
As for a scan, that’s a little trickier. I could try to sense something, but that doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. My magic isn’t what it was in this universe — mostly because I haven’t been feeding my patron with healthy doses of fear.
I don't really know the rules, nobody gave me a handbook. I just kind of wing it.
You can try jumping out of a closet at me if you think'll help?
( Except Jack's fucking weird, he probably wouldn't startle or even react. )
But don't worry about it, really. I figured it was worth asking, but I'm not really banking on any miracles anymore. If you don't think there's really a point in the scanning, I'd be cool with just getting the prescription. Actual reality already makes me seem like enough of a lunatic, you know?
Even reality all boils down to subjectivity. I don’t know you that well, but I’d hazard a guess that you’re not insane. You’re a man who suffers constantly from extreme sleep deprivation, pulled from terrible circumstances. Trauma doesn’t equate insanity.
[Just… throwing that out there.]
Swing by medical when you can. I’ll prescribe you something to keep the side effects at bay. Hallucinations and disorientation, I assume? I’d like to take your blood pressure, too, to see if there’s anything else we need to address.
( ...but no, really, he's deflecting but that means way more than Stephen even knows. The amount of doubt he has over himself, the amount of doubt other people have over him, trying to differentiate between what crazy shit is coming from his mind versus the crazy shit coming from the gas station is an absolute nightmare. A gaslighting, trauma inducing, limb-losing nightmare. Really doesn't help that his psychiatrist doesn't believe the things that happen there, and also that he's a huge douche. )
Yeah, mostly those. Also lost time and memory loss.
I’m pretty sure the rebuttal will be that I’m not *that* kind of doctor, anyway.
Don’t thank me just yet. I’m going to make sure you come back for a follow-up. You know, that thing all patients don’t like doing. It would make sense to get an MRI on the schedule for you, even if you’ve already been diagnosed. A second opinion doesn’t hurt.
Yeah, but you're a doctor and a wizard. That probably trumps him in the hierarchy, right? Maybe I'm rusty on my supermedical neuroastral hospital politics.
Anyway, I don't really have a lot going on, so I can probably clear my schedule for an appointment. Hope you take Aetna.
[He scoffs a little, reading this message with a twist of amusement.]
Doctor Stephen Strange M.D., Ph.D., Sorcerer Supreme. Not to toot my own horn, but look at all those titles latched onto my name. I’ve *got* to be on the higher hierarchal rung of the ladder.
And the good thing about being displaced from your universe and stuck in this one? You don’t need insurance! Miracles abound. I can see you free of charge.
Yeah, I don't know about that. Dr. V loved to mention how he had four medical degrees. Like, a lot. All the time. Every other visit.
He never mentioned being a sorcerer supreme, though, so I guess that might tip the scales in your favor.
( Let him hop on the credentials bandwagon too, here-- )
Jack Townsend. Gas station owner. Not to brag or anything. Try to maintain your awe. I put my diamond-studded pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.
Four? Please. This is me rolling my eyes. Four degrees is just showing off. And besides, Sorcerer Supreme counts as many as three.
Gas station owner, man who can’t be knocked out by unfathomable entities, owner of diamond-studded pants, and now a multiversal traveller. Don’t sell yourself short.
Not to toot MY own horn, but I'm getting pretty good at minor field surgery. I think you might be onto something here.
It's mostly just recounting all of the absolutely insane supernatural things that happen around the gas station. It makes for some seriously compelling narrative, except for all of the plot holes reality apparently has, according to half of the people in the comments.
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The good news is he's had a little time to level out and get his shit together, so that's nice.
The first text comes through: )
Oh, the sorcerer, right?
( Almost immediately after, a second: )
Sorry, wizard, I mean.
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[Which he knows was absolutely purposeful.]
Good to see that your sense of humor is intact.
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( It was definitely a joke and not just Jack's dying idiot brain having the memory of a concussed linebacker after the super bowl.
Fortunately it's easier to seem like you're not an awkward liar through text. )
Anyway, sorry, did you need something? Everything okay?
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I was actually just checking in with you. I know it’s not easy adapting to a new world altogether, and you were pretty shaken when we met. Hope that’s not too presumptuous of me.
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Which, by the way, sorry about that again.
But yeah, I'm okay. This definitely isn't the weirdest thing I've seen, it just kind of happened at a really
Really
Really
I cannot emphasize this enough: Really
Bad time.
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Don’t worry about the baseball bat; I’ve really been struck by a lot worse. And I’m not exactly the best person for this, but I’ll offer anyway: whether or not you trust ADI, the medical and counseling departments are there for a reason. You can find me pretty easily at the former.
Not that you didn’t already know it if you were stuck at that job fair like the rest of us.
That said… you need anything now?
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Is that you?
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Generally, yes. I’m one of them. But everyone’s specializations are disparate in medical, given individual experience, so it depends on what’s ailing you.
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It's a brain thing. FFI. I don't sleep, so it's mostly of the dealing with the side-effects variety.
( Which is to say, anti-psychotics for the hallucinations, lost time, disorientation, paranoia. Just your standard, totally run-of-the-mill thing that doesn't feel even remotely weird to talk about with a guy you whacked with a baseball bat. )
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Brain things just happen to be my specialty.
How far has your insomnia progressed? You said you “don’t” sleep, so I assume we’re past the point of sleep aids having any effect at all?
[And with the addition of trauma and/or stress, they’re rendered even more useless. He has a feeling Jack has had his share.]
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( But he's going to opt for convenient because pursuing the suspicious route would probably make him seem paranoid, which his mind kindly advises him would make him seem crazier than he's really angling to present right now, thanks. )
I stopped sleeping a long time ago. Months, maybe a little over a year? I don't know, I lost track.
Sleep aids don't work. Nothing works. This is the part where people tend to start listing off things that might work, so let me save you some time. It won't work.
Literally nothing works.
( Which annoyed the hell out of a couple of gods — demigods — powerful cosmic aliens? Whatever you call them. )
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A year? That sounds less like a brain disorder and more like a curse. [FFI is a serious disorder—it’s in the name, after all—but one that progresses over time. A full year of not sleeping even intermittently? Unheard of in scientific circles; mystical, not so much.] Are you sure there’s nothing supernatural you’re not accounting for?
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( aka "you're cursed to watch all your friends die", which is fun.
On a more significant note, Stephen's not wrong about there being something distinctly off about the whole thing. Not that Jack knows it — or at least he doesn't know why yet. )
I mean, it's possible I guess. It's just that I had a couple of... like really powerful things try to knock me out. I could be wrong, but I get the feeling the Dark God would probably be able to... Counter-spell? Is that a thing outside of Dungeons & Dragons? Whatever the case, a bunch of insane beings have tried to knock me out and couldn't do it.
Either way, yeah, I know, total medical outlier, I should be super dead. The number of people I keep outliving is astounding.
Actually
Wait
You're a brain doctor and a sorcerer
Best of both worlds, right? Is this like a thing you can
Scan or something?
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If anything, I’d say that supernatural entities failing to knock you out is proof that it isn’t just physiological. Assuming the rules aren’t completely different in your world.
As for a scan, that’s a little trickier. I could try to sense something, but that doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. My magic isn’t what it was in this universe — mostly because I haven’t been feeding my patron with healthy doses of fear.
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You can try jumping out of a closet at me if you think'll help?
( Except Jack's fucking weird, he probably wouldn't startle or even react. )
But don't worry about it, really. I figured it was worth asking, but I'm not really banking on any miracles anymore. If you don't think there's really a point in the scanning, I'd be cool with just getting the prescription. Actual reality already makes me seem like enough of a lunatic, you know?
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[Just… throwing that out there.]
Swing by medical when you can. I’ll prescribe you something to keep the side effects at bay. Hallucinations and disorientation, I assume? I’d like to take your blood pressure, too, to see if there’s anything else we need to address.
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( ...but no, really, he's deflecting but that means way more than Stephen even knows. The amount of doubt he has over himself, the amount of doubt other people have over him, trying to differentiate between what crazy shit is coming from his mind versus the crazy shit coming from the gas station is an absolute nightmare. A gaslighting, trauma inducing, limb-losing nightmare. Really doesn't help that his psychiatrist doesn't believe the things that happen there, and also that he's a huge douche. )
Yeah, mostly those. Also lost time and memory loss.
Thank you. Seriously. That's really, really helpful.
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Don’t thank me just yet. I’m going to make sure you come back for a follow-up. You know, that thing all patients don’t like doing. It would make sense to get an MRI on the schedule for you, even if you’ve already been diagnosed. A second opinion doesn’t hurt.
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Anyway, I don't really have a lot going on, so I can probably clear my schedule for an appointment. Hope you take Aetna.
Not that I have it.
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Doctor Stephen Strange M.D., Ph.D., Sorcerer Supreme. Not to toot my own horn, but look at all those titles latched onto my name. I’ve *got* to be on the higher hierarchal rung of the ladder.
And the good thing about being displaced from your universe and stuck in this one? You don’t need insurance! Miracles abound. I can see you free of charge.
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He never mentioned being a sorcerer supreme, though, so I guess that might tip the scales in your favor.
( Let him hop on the credentials bandwagon too, here-- )
Jack Townsend. Gas station owner.
Not to brag or anything. Try to maintain your awe. I put my diamond-studded pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.
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Gas station owner, man who can’t be knocked out by unfathomable entities, owner of diamond-studded pants, and now a multiversal traveller. Don’t sell yourself short.
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I'm also a blogger, and only SOME of my followers are bots from PornHub. That might just be showing off now, though.
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What do you blog about?
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It's mostly just recounting all of the absolutely insane supernatural things that happen around the gas station. It makes for some seriously compelling narrative, except for all of the plot holes reality apparently has, according to half of the people in the comments.
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