morbidoptimisim:
commission batch for @sudrien
The original written prompt wend something like this;
So, one of the frequent impressions about Dr. Lalonde - Not a medical doctor, but there is certainly a PHD, something in subatomic engineering - Is how slight she is. Her arms are barely thick enough to hold muscle, and you hardly know how those ankles can handle her weight, and on the occasional evening she comes into the bar she’s quite ready to show how anyone can encircle her waist with both hands, including with her own.
If she finds you particularly cute, and sufficiently inebriated, she might even partially unbutton that tailored lab coat she wares to show a glimpse of the corset she wears underneath it. Only a little bit, though. And you’ll never go home with her. At least, not without certain veterinary medications already flowing through your veins - those few will that do would find themselves untouched in an alley sometime tomorrow.
So at most, the person who knows what they are talking about will say she’s an accomplished tightlacer. Nobody jokes she’s partially slipped into some void between dimensions. Nobody sees her when that corset comes part of the way off - one of her many stuffed puppets tucked beneath her ribs, like someone tried to do nauli and succeeded - or failed? - in the most spectacular way, such that her ribs need a bit of filler not to collapse upon themselves.
Certainly nobody sees her when the corset comes off, and her back can’t even hold her slight weight - and before the crawls into bed, she resorts to being an ambulatory pile of limbs, a contortionist only suitable for the end of October.
Well, she tried that three years ago, when pocketbook was emptier and her condition was significantly better. Worried people a bit too much to get a callback to the haunted house, but the money got her through finishing her thesis.