#'i just looked up sternum dislocation are you seeing a doctor?'

[dredshirtroberts]

oh *now* she wants me to see a doctor about my joints doing things joints don't normally do.

bit late ma.

[lifblogs]

So last night was… a lot. I was in the hospital again, and became unresponsive in the waiting room. I needed a sternum rub to bring me back, and OW!!! That HURTS, especially if you have fibromyalgia and another rheumatological issue that causes pain, but it works.

Once in a room I started seizing and had to be put on oxygen because my vitals were dropping.

Thankfully saw a specialist today who fixed my neck that I hurt from all the seizing, she fixed two dislocated ribs (thank god!), and also checked if I had fractures from the sternum rub because that is common. Thankfully I don’t have any. I’m just really sore.

Also last night my IV was below the crook of my arm, but reached across to above it and really far down. I had to keep my arm straight for a couple hours, and if I messed that one up by moving around they would have had to do my neck. Slightly disappointed that I couldn’t get bruising to say I was bitten by a vampire, but you know, less pain.

Again, the ER doctor was not helpful, I didn’t see a neurologist, no one looked at my rheumatology bloodwork and I was told seizures don’t affect asthma, which is… not exactly true. Fun times.

[city-writes]

Before I Say Goodbye to You, One More Last Fist Bump

When Kirishima last saw Bakugo, he'd been blasting off through the air, with the intent on stopping whatever other villains had infiltrated Nabu Island. Shortly after, a giant, balloon doll-esque Midoriya towered over the forest in the west part of the island, with a child's voice begging for help.

Now both Midoriya and Bakugo were both unconscious, thoroughly thrashed, and Kirishima was helping the rest of Class 1-A do what they could to keep hope alive for the island's denizens.

Kirishima can't help but ask himself... if he'd followed Bakugo... would things have been different?

Warning(s): Heroes Rising Movie Spoilers; possible second chapter maybe? not sure Pairing(s): Eijirou Kirishima/Katsuki Bakugo (KiriBaku); Background Implied/One-sided Izuku Midoriya/Ochako Uraraka (IzuOcha)

Read it here on AO3!

Kirishima looked towards Bakugo in awe, having just witnessed him take down the weird mummy villain basically single-handedly after freeing himself from the villain's control. "Woah!" A smile broke out on Kirishima's lips, crying out to his best friend, "Nice one, Bakugo!"

"He kept collateral damage to a minimum too!" Kaminari added, looking at how precise of an explosion Bakugo had set off.

"There you are!"

At the sound of Yaoyorozu's voice, all three young men turned and looked her way. "You guys good?" Yaoyorozu asked, looking towards Kirishima and Kaminari as she and Jirou ran up to them. Before Kirishima could say anything in response, Bakugo spoke instead, looking at the lot of them from over his shoulder, standing from several feet away.

"Yeah," The ash blond haired teen replied, rubbing the arm that had sacrificed the grenade gauntlet while fighting the mummy villain, "That was too easy."

Kirishima looked to Yaoyorozu and Jirou then, breathing slightly heavy from his exertion. "Are the islanders oka--"

Before he could finish the question, the familiar sound of Bakugo's explosions rang from the other male's spot, all the grounded students watching as Bakugo's built frame sailed up through the air.

"Wait, where are you going?!" Jirou yelled, fully turning to face the direction Bakugo was flying off in.

"I'll leave the rescuing to you!" Bakugo's voice rang out, causing Kirishima to sigh and shake his head. "I'm gonna go crush the other villains."

As Bakugo blasted himself off, Kirishima began running in the direction his friend had been headed off in, stopping only when Kaminari cried out, "Dude?! Where do you think you're headed?!"

Kirishima slowed to a stop then, looking behind him expectantly at Kaminari, almost confusedly so. "What do you mean? We gotta go back up Bakugo!"

"Our focus needs to be on securing the islanders." Yaoyorozu strained, shaking her head at Kirishima's words. As she spoke, she began creating a pair of reinforced handcuffs and some strong, thick looking bindings. "Not only that, we need to restrain this villain while they're unconscious. The more of us here to watch over them, the better."

Kirishima cursed under his breath, knowing Yaoyorozu was right. Even though he wanted nothing more than to follow Bakugo into battle, he reluctantly walked back towards the others, and nodded. "Yeah, you're right, vice prez."

"You guys go take care of the villain," Jirou said, kneeling down on one knee as her earphone jacks pierced through the concrete below them. "I'll keep an ear out for any civilians that might be trapped or hiding nearby."

"Right!" Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Kaminari all said simultaneously, before running towards the unconscious mummy villain. Though all the while, Kirishima couldn't help the uneasy feeling settling in his gut when it came to Bakugo. As he and Kaminari securely held up the mummy villain so that Yaoyorozu could handcuff him, Kirishima looked in the direction Bakugo had headed off in, frowning uncomfortably.

So when not even ten minutes later, a giant, balloon doll-looking version of a bleeding Midoriya arose from the forest from the west, and the sound of a child's voice begging for someone to help Deku rang throughout the island, Kirishima couldn't help the dread that ran through him.

Especially when only a few seconds later, just as the giant Midoriya disappeared, the familiar sight and sound of an explosion made itself known in the exact same area.

____________________

The next time Kirishima saw Bakugo, he and Midoriya were unconscious and floating in the air, being whisked away in a hurry by Uraraka and Asui towards where the rest of their injured classmates and other civilians were being treated in one of the back rooms of the set of warehouses tucked away on the southwest side of the island. Instinctively, Kirishima moved to follow them, but stopped when he felt Jirou's hand on his shoulder, and looked back to see her shaking her head.

"I know you're worried, but for now, let those who have healing quirks take care of them." She said, tugging him gently in the opposite direction. "Yaomomo and Kaminari are already off doing what they can. We need to help them, and the other civilians, in any way we can."

Seething, Kirishima exhaled, one of his hands curling into a fist, shaking somewhat. "I know." With a last look towards Bakugo, watching as his body disappeared behind the corner at the end of the hallway, Kirishima closed his eyes, before turning with Jirou and heading towards the main center building in the set of warehouses that was currently holding the able-bodied civilians.

Iida was quick to set them to jobs: sending Jirou to aid Yaoyorozu and Kaminari in any way she could while they created materials and charged batteries respectively, and sending Kirishima to Ojiro, Aoyama, and Hagakure, having him help them serve the civilians food.

Every once in a while, Kirishima would see Mina or Sero whenever they'd come out to bring more food from the kitchen whenever they ran low serving. He learned from them about what happened with Bakugo and Midoriya, thanks to Koda and Asui working with them in the kitchen. The two of them had been present while retrieving Bakugo and Midoriya, and from what Kirishima understood, the villain they'd been fighting had multiple quirks, and they'd been trying to protect a couple of kids. Not only that, but thanks to them as well as Ojiro, he learned the extent of their injuries. Bakugo's ribs were broken, the muscles in his arms strained due to overuse of his quirk. He'd also had a head injury, and part of the side of his face had been gashed open. Midoriya too, had part of his face gashed open as well, and something had pierced at two separate points through his chest, cracking part of his sternum. (According to Ojiro, Shoji -who was apparently helping in the infirmary - said that the kids they saved claimed that the villain shot lazers from their fingers at Midoriya, which was what pierced him.) Not only that, but one of his shoulders had been dislocated, and the opposite arm had been sprained.

Additionally, according to Ojiro, both of them had shown signs of being electrocuted. According to the tailed teen, while he'd been being treated of his head wound, both Bakugo and Midoriya had been having multiple muscle spasms, and there were burns at points on their bodies where some sort of powerful energy source - presumably the electricity - had impacted them. On top of that, Ojiro had heard one of the clinicians tending to them that their hearts were beating irregularly, both having slight arrhythmias in congruence with the symptoms of electric shock.

At this, Kirishima couldn't help the worry, the upset, the irritation with himself that began to well up inside of him. If only he'd gone with Bakugo! Maybe... Maybe things would have been different!

Eventually, he made the decision to go check on them.

After handing a bowl of food to one of the civilians, Kirishima looked over to Ojiro, smiling apologetically as he gave a small laugh. "Hey Ojiro? Mind covering for me while I take a bathroom break?"

Ojiro blinked as he looked to Kirishima, nodding. "Yeah, sure. I got you covered."

"Thanks!" Kirishima gave Ojiro a toothy grin before bolting from his spot towards a nearby hallway, out the building so he could dip into another one, towards the room that'd he'd seen Asui and Uraraka hauling Bakugo and Midoriya off to. Before he could find it, however, he ran into a tired looking Uraraka, who seemed surprised to see him.

"Kirishima?"

Uraraka looked drained, and Kirishima could only assume it was because she was recovering from overuse of her own quirk. After all, she'd used her Zero Gravity on both Bakugo and Midoriya from one side of the island to another, and it was no secret that she'd get ill from overexerting her limits.

"You good?" Kirishima asked, though the second the question left his lips, he regretted it. Of course she wasn't good, none of them were.

But despite that, Uraraka exhaled, a tired smile coming to her. "I'm managing. We all are." She then tilted her head slightly, arching a brow as she looked at Kirishima. "Did you guys already finish distributing food?"

Kirishima shook his head then, looking a little sheepish. "No, we're still in the middle of doing that." He could see the question of 'Then why are you over here?' forming on her expression, so he continued. "I... mighta lied to Ojiro, and said that I needed to take a bathroom break." One of Kirishima's hands rose to the back of his head, his gaze falling to the ground. "Lying's pretty unmanly, I know, but..." He was quiet for a moment, closing his eyes for a brief second. "...I just wanted to check on Bakugo."

There was a brief silence that settled between them, before Uraraka placed a hand on one of Kirishima's upper arms. That was enough to get him to look at her. Seeing the gentle smile on her face, Kirishima blinked.

"You're a good friend, Kirishima." She said softly, her thumb brushing against his bicep. She exhaled out her nose, before continuing. "He and Deku are both still unconscious. The doctors from the island's clinic were still trying to heal them before I stepped out a moment ago." She sniffled then, her free hand going to rub at one of her eyes. "Shoji and Todoroki are in there with me, helping the doctors out where we can. I decided to head to the main warehouse to get the doctors something to eat, since everyone else is eating right now."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." Kirishima nodded. "Better to get it now while it's still warm." He watched her nod, but when neither of them moved from their spot to head to their desired destination, Kirishima's gaze fell to the floor again, Uraraka's hand pulling away from him. "... Is it as bad as the others have said?" He asked quietly, surprised by how shaky his voice sounded.

Again, Uraraka sniffled, her lower lip trembling slightly before she pulled herself together. "It's... not great." She folded her arms then, more hugging herself than anything. "They were both in really bad shape when Tsu, Koda, Shoji, and I got them. The forest and the ground around the area was... ravaged. There were craters all over, and it looked like a bulldozer had ran a straight line through the forest." She was trembling at this point, and Kirishima was quick to wrap her in a hug, his heart plummeting to his stomach as he heard her begin to cry.

"I keep telling myself that they'll be ok, that it could be much worse." Uraraka mumbled against Kirishima's chest. "But I still..."

"I know." Kirishima murmured, a hand rubbing Uraraka's back. "You did a great job saving them. All of you did." He tilted his head a little bit, leaning it against hers. "Without you guys, it would have been worse."

Uraraka took a shaky breath, nodding against him. "T-Thanks, Kirishima." Another sniffle escaped her, and she kept speaking. "I just...! I'm so worried for Deku. His arms are in pretty bad shape. Thankfully, they're not broken, but its still gonna be bad on his arms. That's why he switched to kicks, to help ease the strain on them."

"You know how Midoriya is." Kirishima said with a weak laugh. "He was probably doing all he could to protect those kids, even if it meant risking his arms."

Nodding, Uraraka pulled away a bit from Kirishima, using her hands to rub at her eyes. "Yeah."

Kirishima looked down at her, noting her uneased expression. "...Is something else wrong?"

There was a hesitancy in Uraraka then, and she let loose a shaky breath. "There's... There's something you should know. About Bakugo."

The way her gaze failed to meet his caused Kirishima's breath to falter, caused his blood to run cold. "... What is it?"

"They didn't tell us directly," Uraraka murmured, her gaze falling to the floor, "I overheard one of the doctors. Apparently... one of Bakugo's broken ribs is close to one of his lungs. They said that it's in danger of puncturing it." When she looked up, she saw how Kirishima's eyes had gone wide, how pale he'd become. "I haven't told Todoroki or Shoji, cuz I didn't want the doctors to know I'd overheard them. But I know how close you and Bakugo are... I couldn't not tell you."

Now it was Kirishima's turn for his breath to be shaky. Regardless, he nodded, pulling Uraraka back into another hug, though more for his own comfort than hers. "...Thanks, Uraraka."

Uraraka didn't pull away from the hug, instead wrapping her arms around Kirishima in return. "Yeah, no problem."

The two of them allowed a few seconds of silent reassurance to pass, before they both pulled away from the hug, Uraraka rubbing at her face with a hand once more. "I should start heading towards the kitchen." She watched Kirishima nod in agreement, before placing a hand on one of his shoulders. "Don't worry, if I see Ojiro, I'll tell him I saw you help a kid near the bathroom, to try and get you a little more time."

A soft chuckle left Kirishima then, and he nodded. "I appreciate it."

She gave Kirishima's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before pulling her hand away, the two of them headed for their preferred destinations.

Kirishima was soon greeted by a sliding paper door, taking a moment to settle his nerves before opening it, stepping through into the tatami matted floor. He was met with the sight of several people in various states of injury, some sitting up, some laying on the floor. As Kirishima's eyes scanned the room, his gaze settled on the sight of Midoriya and Bakugo in the far left corner of the room, each of them being cared to by a different healer.

"Kirishima."

At the sound of his name, Kirishima tore his gaze away from Bakugo and Midoriya, instead looking left towards the owner of the voice, sitting close to the door, making ice in a bucket pan and distributing it into packs. "Todoroki."

"What are you doing here?" Todoroki asked, looking at Kirishima, not ceasing his movements in any way. Kirishima couldn't help but mentally compare his movements to one of those factory line robots that work by conveyor belts and stuff like that.

"I came to see how Bakugo and Midoriya were doing." He answered honestly, his gaze trailing back towards said teens. "I talked to Uraraka in the hall, she said they were still out of it."

"They are," Came Shoji's voice, the multi-limbed male sitting against the right side wall of the room, placing an ice pack on the head of a sleeping civilian, "the doctors are doing what they can to help them."

"Yeah, she told me." Kirishima replied, not taking his gaze off of Bakugo. After a brief second, he nodded in Bakugo's direction. "...Can I...?"

"That's fine." Todoroki said, looking back to the ice he was packing away. "Just be sure not to disrupt the doctors."

Kirishima nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it." He then carefully stepped through the open path to the back of the room, being mindful of other patients who were being treated there. Upon reaching where Bakugo and Midoriya were, Kirishima moved to sit on his knees, knelt at the foot of where Bakugo was laid. Kirishima's hands grasped at the fabric of his hero costume on his knees, watching as Bakugo took slow, shallow breaths. 'A broken rib is close to puncturing one of his lungs.' came the mental voice in his head, echoing what Uraraka had told him out in the hall. Kirishima's gaze lowered to Bakugo's gauze wrapped stomach, where the hands of the doctor who was treating him hovered, a yellow light coming from them. "How's he doin', doc?" He asked softly, not wanting to distract the doctor from his work too much.

The older man turned his head to look at Kirishima then, before looking back down at Bakugo. "I've nearly finished closing this boy's wounds." He said simply, the other doctor treating Midoriya nodding in agreement as she too was glowing from her hands, hovering above Midoriya's chest.

"I've done about all I can for this boy as well." She said, a sigh leaving her. "I've relocated his shoulder, and just about closed the wounds on his chest." A small frown formed on her lips then. "But they'll both need to get to the main land as soon as possible."

"Because of the electrocution?" Kirishima asked, looking towards her then.

She seemed to be surprised by his words, though the look on her face melted into one of tired amusement. "Word about your classmates sure spreads around fast, huh?" Kirishima blinked at that, before recoiling slightly. Was he not supposed to have said anything about that too? He knew to keep his mouth shut for now about Bakugo's ribs, but-- "Well, I suppose that's only natural." The doctor treating Midoriya spoke again, pulling Kirishima from his thoughts. "You might be heroes, but you're still youngins. Word of mouth travels fast between young friends."

"We've done what we could for their muscle spasms," The treating Bakugo said, his voice low, "easing the tension in them as much as we could manage. Especially for this boy, seeing as his arms were so tense after over-using his quirk. And their arrhythmias seemed to have lulled back into a more stable cardiac output." There was a moment of silence from the doctor then, and without looking behind him, Kirishima could feel Todoroki and Shoji's gazes looking his direction, the three students more than aware of the 'but' that was dripping off the edge of the doctor's words.

"...But we can't do anything for their broken bones." The doctor treating Midoriya admitted, Kirishima's blood running cold. "Its...not a matter of over exertion on our part," she continued, her hands not leaving Midoriya's body, "Its just the limitations of our quirks. We can ease muscles, close wounds, but we can't do anything about bones."

Kirishima's grip on his knees tightened. If they couldn't do anything about broken bones, then how long would it be before something happened, too deep a breath, too hasty a movement, too sudden a shift, and then Bakugo's lung would be--

Kirishima shook his head at the thought, wanting to banish it from his mind. Bakugo... Bakugo would be fine, right? What would he say, if he were conscious right now?

Do you really think I'm gonna let something as stupid as a broken rib take me down?!

Yeah, that sounded about right.

I'm gonna become the Number One Hero, Shitty Hair! Do you really think I'm so weak as to let a damn rib be my end?

No, mental Bakugo, of course not.

Then stop mopin' like a brat and get back to helping those damn extras with the islanders!

"Kirishima?"

At the sound of Todoroki's voice, Kirishima opened his eyes (he didn't even realize he'd closed them), letting lose a shaky breath. His gaze glazed over somewhat, his eyes growing warm with unshed tears. Raising a hand, Kirishima wiped at his eyes, and steadied his breathing, before answering his classmate. "Yeah?"

"Do you need to be seen by the doctors too? You're trembling." Kirishima chuckled softly at his concern, unable to get a word in as Todoroki continued speaking. "I heard from one of the others that you'd helped Bakugo bring in the villain we have under watch. Did you over-exert yourself? Don't push yourself if you need to rest."

"Nah, I'm good, Todoroki." Kirishima said, standing up from his spot. Mental Bakugo was right, he needed to get back to work. Kirishima bowed then, hanging his head as he spoke to the doctors. "Thank you for letting me see my friends." He smiled somewhat as he watched them nod in response as he straightened himself back up, and proceeded to turn around, making his way back through the path of people, towards the door. Before he left, he looked to Todoroki and Shoji, giving them each a single, determined nod, before looking over his shoulder for one last look at Bakugo, then promptly leaving the room.

On his way back, he ran back into Uraraka, who was holding a tray full of onigiri for those helping in the infirmary, and he wordlessly gave her a thumbs up, getting a smile in return as they passed one another. If he'd paid closer attention, he would have seen the pair of kids sneakily following behind her, making their way towards the infirmary as well.

______________________________

"You have to hand me over to the villains!"

Everyone in the room fell silent as the young boy spoke, before Uraraka's timid question of "...What?" broke the silence.

The remainder of Class 1-A had gathered in a back room after tending to all the islanders as best they could, and as they were trying to figure out the villain's motives, this kid had shown up, claiming that the villains wanted his quirk.

Kirishima seethed as the kid continued speaking. "The villain said he wouldn't kill me! A-And it's fine it I end up losing my quirk!" He could see the fear in this kid's eyes as he spoke, the tears threatening to fall. "As long as it means everyone on the island is safe!"

Again, there was silence in the room as everyone processed what to do. Kirishima looked over at Todoroki, who's bangs were covering his eyes. At Uraraka, who looked mortified. At Iida, class rep Iida, who looked shocked, yet regretful. As his eyes scanned the unsure expressions of the rest of the class, Kirishima couldn't help the nausea that arose in his stomach.

No one was seriously considering handing the kid over, right?!

"No, we can't do that."

Several gasps escaped the mouths of many, including Kirishima himself, when Midoriya stepped into the room, hands curled into fists by his sides. He looked a little roughed up, but there was plenty of life in his eyes, determination in that emerald gaze as he scanned the room housing his fellow students.

Uraraka stood from her seat, relief flooding her voice. "Deku...!"

"Midoriya." Iida said, an incredulous tone to his voice. "You're ok!"

Midoriya nodded, before his determined look softened into a smile, and his gaze came to rest on the boy the villains were after. "And it's all thanks to Katsuma's power." Midoriya took a few steps forward then, before kneeling and bringing himself to Katsuma's height. "You can activate cells." Midoriya rose his hands somewhat then, looking down at them. "It speeds up cellular regeneration, and enhances physical performance." Curling his hands into fists, Midoriya looked back at Katsuma, smiling brightly. "Thanks to you and your quirk, I recovered super quickly! It's an amazing ability, Katsuma. I'm so grateful."

Kirishima could see Katsuma trembling, heard the whimper leave the boy before he spoke to Midoriya. "Y-You... really mean it?"

Midoriya nodded at Katsuma. "We're not gonna let anything scary happen to you. That's the whole reason we came to this island, right?"

The tension in the air from before lifted at Midoriya's words, Kirishima feeling a bit of a weight lift from his chest. Like hell they were gonna hand the kid over to the villains!

"Why are you losers all so on edge? All we gotta do is kill some stupid villains, right?"

Kirishima's heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice, the sound of the low, slightly raspy tones. His eyes flew towards he door, relief flooding through his system as he saw Bakugo standing there, looking slightly annoyed, his arms folded as he leaned against the door. Without thinking, Kirishima took a step forward, though he quickly stopped himself from running over and hugging the other boy out of relief and thankfulness. "Bakugo!"

Midoriya stood and turned to look behind him, facing Bakugo then. Bakugo straightened up a short moment later, no longer leaning against the door, as he stared Midoriya down. Kirishima watched as they shared a nod, and Midoriya then turned to Katsuma and his sister, smiling.

"Don't worry," Midoriya said as he looked down at them. "We'll protect you two!"

Kirishima watched with a grin as Bakugo punched into his own hand, a small explosion going off as his fist made impact with his palm. "The villains are as good as dead!" He proclaimed with a devilish grin of his own.

"We'll keep everyone else on the island safe too!"

"Obviously, we'll win."

Kirishima couldn't help the wide, toothy grin as Midoriya and Bakugo both finished speaking, knocking his fists together in excitement. The room erupted into various proclamations and words of encouragement and solidarity as each student hopped on board with their determination and resolution.

"I've got your backs!" Kirishima added in to the cacophony of students, not caring that his words were more than likely drowned out by the others. But when Bakugo's eyes met his, and the blond gave him a smirk and a nod, Kirishima knew his promise didn't fall on deaf ears.

________________________________

The plan was set.

Iida had given the order for everyone to gather what they could, assist in any way they could, while he and the mayor of Nabu Island gathered the residents in the center of the warehouses and explained Midoriya's plan to them. They were all going to make the trek to the castle ruins at the northwestern point of the island and have their final stand against the villains there, while some of them stayed behind with the islanders tucked safely away in the cave on the far side of the cliff.

As for their course of action, they were all going to separate the three villains as best they could, and deal with each of them separately. There was a villain with long hair that apparently went sharp like blades. Tokoyami and Mina were going to take care of them. There was some beast-like villain, one that Todoroki, Iida, Sato, Sero, Ojiro, and Tokoyami had been taking on earlier. The ones they had planning on dealing with him were Todoroki, Iida, Asui, and Kirishima himself. Everyone else, except for Sato, Koda, and Hagakure, were going to be dealing with the main villain, the All For One ripoff, and protecting Katsuma and Mahoro.

One by one, student after student left the room they calculated their plan in, with the exception of Bakugo, who was unwillingly looking after the pair of Mahoro and Katsuma, who were sleeping together on the couch in the room. As Kirishima made his way to leave with Mina, Sero, and Kaminari, he stopped, looking over his shoulder at Bakugo, whose eyes were closed as he was leaning against the wall next to the couch. Kirishima then turned to the others and chuckled. "I'll join you guys in a second, start heading there without me."

Sero and Kaminari shot Kirishima a concerned look, but Mina simply nodded. "Alright!" With that, she grabbed Sero and Kaminari's wrists, leading them towards wherever they were all needed. Kirishima's expression softened into a smile at the sight, before he turned back into the room. He watched as Bakugo cracked open an eye at the sound of him coming back, and gave a small grunt.

"What?"

Kirishima chuckled softly then, his gaze falling from Bakugo to the sleeping kids. "Didn't think you'd wanna look after the kids by yourself."

"I can handle a couple of sleeping brats." Bakugo retorted, though without any bark to his tone. He closed his eye and exhaled, folding his arms before speaking again. "You should go help the other extras. Raccoon Eyes will only be able to keep Flat Face and Sparky in line for so long."

"She's more capable than you give her credit for, Bakugo." Kirishima murmured, kneeling down to the couch, pulling the blanket covering the kids down a bit, covering up one of their exposed feet. "Besides, I know you'd rather be out there than cooped up in here."

Bakugo gave a hmph at that, opening his eyes to watch Kirishima. He frowned slightly, seeing the distant look on Kirishima's face as he watched over the kids. "... Why are you really here?"

He watched as Kirishima tensed slightly then, a tired smile coming to the redhead. "It's nothing, really. I'm just..." Kirishima paused for a moment, before standing up, looking at Bakugo with a look so genuine, it took the blond off guard. "I'm just glad you're alright."

Their gazes locked for a few seconds, before Bakugo looked away with a tch!, doing everything he could to fight the feeling of heat wanting to rise to his cheeks. He heard Kirishima laugh softly, so he glared back at the redhead, noting the slight tinge of color that had risen to Kirishima's cheeks. Exhaling through his nose, Bakugo glanced over to the sleeping kids, Kirishima following suit.

"... We're gonna beat those bastards." Bakugo murmured. "We're gonna fucking win."

Kirishima nodded in agreement, before replying. "I wish I'd be there to have your back this time. I tried going earlier, after you'd taken down the mummy guy, but--"

"If you'd come with me then, you woulda gotten your ass handed to you by that asshole with the multiple quirks." Bakugo's voice came quiet, terse. His gaze returned to Kirishima, though the other teen still kept his gaze on the kids. "You wouldn't have been able to punch through his weird air shields. Your quirk woulda spared you from his lazers, maybe from the jaws of his weird ass back dragons, but not his electricity, or his ability to weaponize the air." Bakugo stood up off the wall then, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Plus, you're a close combat type. He coulda stolen your quirk, and if that asshole figured out how to go Unbreakable, on top of all the shit he can currently do?" Bakugo scoffed. "We'd be in deep shit."

Kirishima's hands curled into fists, shaking slightly at his sides. He couldn't argue with that. "I guess that's why they got me fighting the beast dude." He chuckled, looking at Bakugo then. "I heard from Todoroki and Iida what to expect, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not nervous."

A growl ripped from Bakugo's throat then, and he stepped towards Kirishima, a fire in his eyes as he pressed a finger to the redhead's chest. "Don't start with that bullshit. You're gonna kick that guy's ass."

Kirishima blinked, before laughter slowly bubbled up from his chest, and he placed a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "Thanks, dude."

"Don't thank me for telling you something you should already know." Bakugo pulled his finger back, but didn't pull away from Kirishima's grip, glaring into the other male's eyes. Kirishima's laughter died down, and after a moment, he moved, pulling Bakugo into a loose hug. The blond tensed, but didn't pull away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Give him hell, got it?" Kirishima murmured softly, the warmth of his breath tickling Bakugo's ear. There was so much more he wanted to say; Look after yourself. Stay safe. Don't scare me like that again. But he knew better, knew that Bakugo would see that as him pitying him, looking down on him, and Kirishima wanted to do anything but that.

When he felt Bakugo's arms wrap around him in return, Kirishima was sure his heart had stopped.

"Of course I will, dumbass. Who the hell do you think I am?" Bakugo's voice came more amused sounding than anything, and even though Bakugo couldn't see it, it was enough to bring a smile to Kirishima's face. He felt Kirishima press his forehead down against the top of one of his shoulders, felt Kirishima's grip around him tighten slightly. "After we kill these villains, I'm gonna get you back for being on Sparky's side the other night, makin' me do the damn night watch patrol."

He felt Kirishima's laugh before he heard it. "I'm looking forward to it."

A comfortable quiet settled among them, Bakugo slowly moving to rest his head against Kirishima's. "You should head out. Four-Eyes will come looking for you if he sees you're not where you're supposed to be." Despite his words, his arms didn't release their hold on Kirishima, he didn't step away from the other.

But when he felt Kirishima sigh, he knew to expect the feeling of the other male to be the one to pull away. "Yeah, you're right." Kirishima said as he reluctantly pulled away.

The two looked at each other, neither doing anything to try and hide the flush that had risen to their cheeks.

Though Bakugo watched as Kirishima raised a fist in his direction, the redhead giving him a sharp, toothy grin. "See you on the other side, dude."

Bakugo couldn't help the wide grin that tugged on his own lips, raising a hand and bumping his fist against Kirishima's. "Naturally."

With dual looks of satisfaction, both boys shared a nod, and Kirishima turned, heading towards the door, giving Bakugo one last wave before he headed out. After he was gone, Bakugo raised a hand to the shoulder Kirishima had rested his head on, faintly rubbing the spot with his palm. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips then, and Bakugo gave a small snort.

Those villains wouldn't know what fucking hit them.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi, love!! First of all, I'm discovering wonderful fics I've never read because of people's questions in your Tumblr so... thank you so f****** much!!! Now, do you have a list or would you recommend me some fics where John is a doctor? Can be in Afghanistan, with Sarah, AUs of any time and type... But where John being a doctor is an important part of the fic or the principal one. Thank you, lovely!! By the way, I've been reading your comments about the John hate and I agree with you!! 😘😘

Hi Lovely!

Ahhhhh okay you’re in luck, because I was sorting a list of “sick fics” and one of the categories was “John Takes Care of Sherlock” so I can add those onto these other “doctor John” fics!  I don’t know if I have any where he is strictly a doctor, but let’s see what’s sorted in my bookmarks right now!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN

Whispers in the Dark by coloured_ink (G, 833 w. || Bed Sharing, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety, Caring John, Spooning, Little Spoon Sherlock) – Sherlock has anxiety attacks. Good thing John always knows what to do.

Static by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602) (G, 917 w. || Fluff, H/C, Doctor John, Headaches, POV Sherlock, Fluff, H.C, Pre-TSo3) – Sherlock suffers from a headache.

The Most Awful Thing by whitchry9 (K+, 1,072 w. || H/C, Holmes Brothers, Seizures) – When Mycroft witnesses Sherlock having a seizure, he is at a complete loss as to what he should do. Thankfully, John is there.

Cuddling by GraciousK (G, 1,107 w. || Fluff and Angst, Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Hypothermia) – When John finally finds Sherlock, he’s hypothermic and delirious. John warms him up the only way Sherlock will allow: body heat. It ends up more angsty than sexy. Part 2 of 30-day OTP Challenge: Johnlock

Bringing Colour to the World by SD_Ryan (G, 1,168w. || Est. Relationship, Sickfic, Fluff, Schmoop) – In which we encounter a sick detective, a snuggle on the couch, and a silly fairytale.

Shut Up and Sleep by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,257 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock has a knack for hurting himself, although not entirely on purpose. John is a doctor, and it’s a good thing he’s there.

Mentality by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,350 w. || Friendship, Hurt / Comfort, THoB Fic, Doctor John) – It was weird. But Sherlock was having a panic attack. Re-write of the Hounds of the Baskerville scene. 

Lost Without My Army Doctor by ItsRealForUs (K, 1,499 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Migraines, Doctor John, Domestics) – Sherlock’s fighting a losing battle with his migraine when John comes home to help.

The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.

Conciliatory Coffee (It’s All Fine) by dget (K+, 1,635 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF Reunion) – "He can feel John’s shuddering breaths in his own lungs, feel John’s heart beating behind his own sternum.“ Because John Watson is a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes is a detective, and neither really knows how to be anything else. A post-Reichenbach reunion oneshot. Can be read as Johnlock.

The Doctor’s Capable Hands by Totally-Out-Of-It (K+, 2,012 w. || Sherlock Whump, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Anxious Sherlock) – Sherlock is injured during a chase. John sits watchful at his bedside in the hospital and wonders. He wouldn’t leave Sherlock alone like this. Especially not if Sherlock wanted him to stay.

This is Life in Colour by agent iz hyper (K+, 2,038 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Doctor John) – John thought with a flash of amusement that only Sherlock Holmes could look like he was about to pass out and still maintain his usual level of acerbic scorn. “You’re a git,” he told him mildly. “And an idiot,” he added as an afterthought, though no less pointedly.  A look into the perks of being both a doctor and a soldier when one is the friend of Sherlock Holmes.

Assurance by belovedmuerto (T, 2,382 w. || Bed-Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love) – It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.

Intensive Care by aceofhearts61 (T, 2,539 w. || Ace!Sherlock / Straight John Queerplatonic Relationship, Hurt Comfort, Angst, Cuddles and Snuggles, Hugs, Doctor!John, Medical Procedures) – In which John looks after Sherlock directly following the events of “Bless You and Keep You.” Sequel Fic. Part 15 of A Love with No Name

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

Someone Else’s Heart by thisprettywren (E, 4,188 w. || First Time, H/C, POV Sherlock, Caretaking John, Pining Idiots) – A crime scene, a rainstorm, and something they both should have known all along.

The Sum of His Parts by CommonNonsense (T, 4,311 w. || Body Worship, First Kiss / Time) – There are eleven major organ systems in the human body. Sherlock knows about all of them to some degree, but none fascinate him as much as the ones that make up John Watson.

Very Good Indeed by StillWaters1 (T, 4,531 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Doctor John, John Whump) – John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body.

This Time by Radon65 (T, 4,766 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) –  He has practically just finished talking to Lestrade when it happens. A sudden dizziness assaults his brain, things tip sideways, and he barely catches himself on the arm of the sofa to slow his descent before he collapses altogether to the floor.

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w. ||  Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an “exclusive” about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned.

Needles by Kryptaria (M, 5,194 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Needles, Referenced/Implied Drug Use, Doctor John) – At the end of January, 2010, John and Sherlock move to 221-B Baker Street. By mid-February, John takes up his role not only as Sherlock’s guardian and helper, but also his doctor. As the months pass, they grow closer and the trust between them deepens, until Sherlock puts it to the ultimate test.

I think You Need A Doctor by TheGoodDirector (M, 5,254 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Mistaken Couple, Humour, Platonics, Mary is Nice) – John’s not been to Baker Street in four months and returns to find a bleeding Consulting Detective. John can’t help but take care and put up with him. Set after The Sign of Three/Before His Last Vow.

Recovery by thesignsofserbia (T, 5,948 w. || HLV-Fix It / Rewrite, Villain Mary, Pining Sherlock, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Hatred, POV Sherlock, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers) – Set after the confrontation with Mary, and Sherlock’s cardiac arrest, John stays at 221B to aid Sherlock’s recovery, forcing them to confront wounds both old and new as they try to heal their damaged relationship.

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Survival Instinct by shirleyholmes (T, 7,162 w. || Post-TRF, First Kiss, Schmoop, Nightmares, Fluff & Angst, Grief, Idiots in Love) – After Sherlock’s “comeback” John starts obsessing with constantly making sure he’s alive (checking his heartbeat etc.)

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

I’m Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, 7,672 w. || Fluff, Cudding, Doctor/Patient, Accidents) – Sherlock finds increasingly ridiculous ways to get John to patch him up after hurting himself.

The T-Shirt Thief by watsonsherlocksuniverse (T, 7,968 w. || Pining Sherlock, Doctor John, First Kiss, Canon Fix-It, Developing Rel., Mutual Pining) – Sherlock steals John’s t-shirt from the laundry. John catches him wearing it one evening, fluff ensues with an endeared yet teasing John?

You’re a Doctor, Fix me by edken (G, 8,342 w. || Fluff / Cuddling) – Sherlock doesn’t do anything halfway, and that includes getting sick. John nurses a very sick flatmate back to health using cuddles, forehead kisses, and a massage. Humor and fluff promised this time, but also some character analysis because who doesn’t love that?

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w. || Jealous Sherlock, First Time, RST, Idiots in Love, Frottage) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock’s, and Sherlock can’t figure out why he’s so incensed about it.

Incapacitation by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 9,424 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Sick Sherlock, Doctor John, Appendicitis) – The doctor had just asked how bad the pain was when the pain spiked. Sherlock’s initial response was a gasp that evolved into a whimper. “Ten,” he gasped. “Ten…”

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John’s identity tags around his wrist.

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

Partners in Crime by Richefic (T, 16,560 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sick John, Meddling Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Domestics) – John Watson receives some devastating news which puts a spanner in his medical ambitions. Will Sherlock prove capable of the kind of comfort and reassurance he needs or will their partnership be ended before its even begun? Set between 1.1 and 1.2.

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock’s death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he’s hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn’t stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty’s web, BAMF-style.

And A Doctor by StillWaters1 (T, 27,393 w. || Friendship, Doctor John, Whump, Soldier / Doctor Dichotomy, Five and One) – It was only when people actually saw John working as a physician that they began to understand: that it wasn’t just about bullets and IEDs and trauma care under fire. That “doctor” actually covered a pretty wide field. And that John was bloody good at covering ground. 5 times Dr. Watson treated others and 1 time he treated himself.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (E, 67,718 w. | First Time, First Kiss, Headaches and Migranes) – If Sherlock’s brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse.“ Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, H/C, Case Fic, First Time/Kiss, Drug Addiction) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

MARKED FOR LATER

These fics are just a few I remembered I put into my MFL list recently, and I haven’t read them yet, so read at your own discretion!

A Home for Us by sussexbound (NR, 3,440 w. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

How They Move In Silence by Breath4Soul (M, 3,516+ w., WiP || Doctor John, Doctor/Patient, Voiceless Sherlock, Sick Sherlock, Texting) – Sherlock loses his voice and has to communicate through texts which leads to love confessions.

Recovery by mainegirlwrites (M, 26,935 w. || Injured Sherlock, Disfigured Sherlock, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, John Takes Care of Sherlock) – The great Sherlock Holmes is recovering from disfiguring injuries with the help of Dr. John Watson - but can a broken spirit be fixed?

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

[queencatherynerhys]

Taken - Part 6 TRR AU

A/N: I strongly suggest you watch the video clips before getting into this chapter to truly have a grasp of what is about to happen. I am really diving into foreign territory here so bear with me.

Summary: Liam is finally reunited with Catheryne, but he has learned new information. Could he live with someone who has such a dark past?

Movie Inspiration: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Dance Fighting Scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vx0MQxIFBW8

Black Widow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmJMeSECMzQ

Tag List: @captainkingliam @decisso @devineinterventions2 @madaraism  @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @trianiasti @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @flyawayblue56 @pens-girl-87

Previous Parts:

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3 │ Part 4 │ Part 5

 Spies? She was raised by spies? What the hell is happening? What does this mean for us? Liam is pulled away from the questions running through his brain. He can’t worry about this right now. They have to get out of here. The way out is blocked by two tangos with heavy firearms. Bastien and Drake are holding them down. “Reloading!” Bastien calls out. “Covering,” Drake replies, laying down cover fire for his buddy.

“Liam?! Did you hear me?! Did you hear what I said?” Catheryne yells through the loudness. He blinks hard to come back to concentration and he nods, telling her that he understands. She nods, tightening the jacket that Liam supplied her. “Give me a gun,” she orders Liam.

He is taken aback by the request, not expecting it. “No, Catheryne, I am not giving you a gun,” he replies. “I came in this mission to protect you and that is what I am going to do. You don’t need a gun. Bastien, Drake and I will deal with these guys,” he says firmly.

“Goddamn it, Liam! I know you are a king and all and you’re used to being a knight in shining armor, but these men tortured me! I will exact my revenge one way or another whether you give me a gun or not!” she shouts frustratingly. She waits another second or two before groaning her response as she busies herself in search of a weapon.

She hears the gunshots being exchanged by the enemies and recognizes the sound as a Ruger 10/22. Semi-automatic rifle. Inaccurate within close range. Move fast and disarm quickly. She fiddles with the medical tray and grabs a scalpel to arm herself. She closes her eyes, summoning all her parent’s training. Who knew the day would come that I’d have to use this again. Especially here. I’m sorry, Liam. She hastily makes her way to the door.

Liam kneels behind Drake, exchanging gunfire hoping to hit one of them to gain advantage. They’ll run out of ammo before they even make it out of here. Catheryne kneels behind Bastien and whispers close to his ear, “Bastien, on my signal, lay down cover fire aiming downwards.” She twirls the trusty sharp scalpel in her hand and steadies her breath before she yells, “GO!”

She hears her name being yelled behind her as she sprints toward the attackers. She drops to her knee and slices a wound on the assailant’s knee on her left. Her attacks are nimble and fast, making her dangerous in every sense of the word. The pained enemy drops his weapon as the other gears up to shoot her, but before he could aim she moves to disarm him with lightning fast moves, breaking his arm and shoving the scalpel into his throat killing him instantly. A sound of a pistol cocking behind her pulls her attention and she whirls around catching his outstretched wrist twisting the gun out of his grasp and dislocating his shoulder in the process. His screams of pain satisfy her as she grabs his neck behind him. She uses all her gained momentum and the adrenaline in her veins assists her as she gears to snap his neck. The sound of his neck breaking fills the now empty hall.  

She breathes hard from the encounter that only lasted for 30 seconds. She looks back and declares, “Well are you coming or am I gonna have to protect myself and find my way out of here on my own?” As they run over, she sees the matching expressions plastered on all their faces, an expression of bewilderment, shock, and…fear, just as she expected. I would be scared, too, if the proper lady I’ve known for 6 months turns out to be a spy capable of killing and disposing threats. I don’t have time to worry about that now. I have to get to Dr. Mallon.

She sprints down the familiar hallways, making her way back to the prison holds. Dr. Mallon has become her friend during these horrifying month and a half. They knew what each other was feeling. He nursed her back to life, quite literally. I’ll be damned if I leave him here. The men surround her, making sure all vantage points are covered as they move forward.

“Dr. Mallon, I’m here,” she says holding the bar of the cell. The old man shuffles forward quickly and says, “Catheryne, I’m ready.” She nods in response. “Doctor, I am going to need you to back up away from the door.” On signal, Liam shoots the lock of the handle. The doctor rushes to them and they trek forward back to the entrance.

“Titan, what’s your status?” Bastien communicates to Mara, who is leading the Bravo team. “Mockingbird, explosives are planted. Making our way back to the entrance now. ETA 2 minutes,” she briefs him quickly. “Keep alert, Titan. Tangos are lurking about. Shoot to kill.”

Drake is helping Dr. Mallon upright. He looks a little upset of his duty, but he shoulders on. They travel in an organized pack. Bastien and Catheryne leading with Liam close behind them and Drake and Dr. Mallon in their rear. They round a corner quickly. Luckily, Catheryne catches a burly guard with a knife clearly meant for Bastien saving him. Her petite figure gives her an advantage being able to twist his arm around him and jabbing the same knife up his spine killing him.

She hastily glances up down the path and sees a significant amount of guards heading their way. “Oh no,” Liam says beside her. He pulls her by the arm to lead her back to the way they came from as the guards chase them. Their thundering boots shake the ground underneath her feet, motivating her to move faster. She clings on to Liam’s hands as they make twists and turns throughout the labyrinth of tunnels. The gunfire fades and she realized they had gotten lost. Drake and Bastien are nowhere to be found. She stops Liam as they reach a circular cavity. It looks like they reached the center of the tunnels. Various tunnel openings face her, and she doesn’t remember which one they went through.

“Catheryne, stay close to me,” Liam tells her. She can’t quite comprehend; his voice being muffled by the pounding of her heart in her ears. Before she can reply, assailants appear from every opening surrounding them.

“Well, well, well,” the voice sends anger throughout her entire spine. She will never forget that voice for as long as she lives. Amir’s voice was deep, smooth, tantalizing, but in the most sinister manner. Liam tenses beside her.

That voice affects him, too. For a month and a half, that voice tortured the love of his life into nothingness. He feels nothing but lethal rage in his heart. He is ready to kick his ass and pulverize him into ash, making him feel every bit of pain he caused him and her. He bides his time. One wrong move and they could very well end up dead, and he doesn’t plan on dying in this godforsaken tunnel.

“It seems we meet again, Duchess Catheryne and King Liam. Valiant effort, really. I commend you for your bravery, Your Majesty. I must confess I did not see you leading your own rescue team for our lovely girl here. Maybe I was wrong about you, but no matter you still must answer for your ancestor’s sins. Don’t fret, King Liam, unlike our beautiful Catheryne, your death will be painless and merciful,” Amir recites, almost what feels like a rehearsed monologue or maybe it’s just his enunciation and monotone voice.

Including Amir, there are 7 enemies surrounding them from all directions. They take a step closer ready to capture them. Catheryne nudges Liam’s arm ever so slightly and they look at each other’s eyes, silent conversation and agreement passing between them. It’s time to deal damage and not hold back. No mercy. Either they beat them, or they die trying.

Their opponents take several steps towards them, standing not more than four feet away from them. Liam gives her the signal to move. He takes two of the smoke bombs attach to his vest and throws it on the ground in front and behind them. In a matter of seconds, they are concealed in a blanket of smoke.

Liam moves to incapacitate the adversaries on his side. He lands a powerful jab on the man’s throat, sending his trachea back and crushing it. He uses the man’s body as a shield from the bullets firing from the enemy in front of him. He reaches him and throws the limp body of the man he just used as protection. He catches the gun-wielding foe by the arm and pulls out his pistol from the holster on his thigh and shoots him on the foot. Liam reacts with the man’s body physics, anticipating his move. He deals a damaging blow to the man’s sternum with his knee using the man’s forward momentum to his advantage.

He disposes of him quickly and drops to his knees, performing a forward roll toward his next target. He shoots the man in the shoulder and tackle him to the ground landing a punch on the man’s wounded body part, earning a painful shriek before dispatching him with another shot on his torso.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Catheryne deals with the remaining three guards. Before the fight started, she was able to sneakily acquire Liam’s dagger from his belt. She throws the knife. Her aim landing true, thanks to her extensive childhood training, to the opponent’s left eye directly in front of her. She disarms the foe on her left before dealing with the one on the right. She uses her whole body as a weapon. Their weight and figure differences were no match when it came to her skills. While he was bigger and stronger, she was more agile and well-versed in the language of fighting having had years of lessons on five different types of martial arts: aikido, jujitsu, tai chi, karate and wushu.

She wraps her legs around her opponent’s neck and uses her body to flip him to the ground. He lands hard with her on top of him and she delivers a final blow aimed at his face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious. She stands up quickly, side-stepping backwards and dodging punches from the one remaining man. He is quick, but no match. He pulls out his gun and aims for her, but she moves with lightning speed within his reach and disassembles the weapon right from his very hand. His face registers one of fear and confusion before launching a counterattack. She ducks his hook, jabbing his ribcage with a series of quick, powerful blows before knocking him back across the way. He catches his breath and shakes his head, rolling his shoulders to a fighting stance.

She taunts him with her fingers, motioning him to bring it on, “Come on. Give me your best shot.” He launches with a roundhouse aimed at her chest, and she twirls around and behind him, landing a slap punch where his neck meets his shoulders hitting a nerve that sends a spasm down his arm. He hooks his leg underneath her and knocking her flat to the ground, catching her off-guard. Before he can retaliate, she does a kip up back to a standing stance. She is done playing with this guy. She blocks his blow and breaks his knees with a push kick, but she doesn’t stop dealing her attacks. She throws with an elbow jab, dislocating his jaw and throws another punch from the other side breaking it completely. She delivers the final blow by hitting him with a snap kick targeted on his sternum, shattering it. She breathes deeply from the intense couple of minutes that just passed.

She searches the circular room for Liam and finds him disposing of his last enemy. They run to each other’s arms. “We have to get out of here,” Liam tells her. They begin to make their way to one of the many openings. Liam yells in pain beside her and she looks to see him clutching his left arm. She looks behind him and finds Amir with a gun. He pulls the trigger. Click. An empty gun meets him, and he throws it away.

He puts his hand up to a fighting stance, readying himself for the final battle. Either way one of them is coming out of here. She steps forward, but Liam grabs her arm, “Don’t. You’re not doing this alone.”

“Look at that. The king protecting his queen to the very end,” Amir admires from across the space.

“I lost you once. We do this together. It’s just a flesh wound,” Liam grits through the pain as he wraps a cloth to constrict the blood flow. Catheryne looks at him with awe. Liam has always been her knight and he will march straight into hell and the face of death to protect her. She helps him up and they face off their enemy. Together.

They circle each other. A minute of intense stare down passes, all waiting for the other to make the first move. Amir sends a throwing knife towards Liam. If Catheryne didn’t have the training she had, Liam would be dead, but luckily, she did. She catches the knife’s hilt inches from his chest and throws it back to its sender as quickly as it arrived. The distraction provided the opening that her and Liam needed. They advance toward their opponent with a round of lethal blows.

Amir seems to have the same training as Catheryne and Liam. He is quicker than he looks. He can hold both of them off. He sends Catheryne flying across the room with a powerful kick to the stomach. Her breath is knocked out of her and she struggles to get her bearings, but Liam’s scream brings her back and she sees him struggling in Amir’s hold of his neck.

If she was angry before, now she’s enraged. She stands and runs full speed and hurls a jump kick breaking the arm that Amir uses to choke Liam. “You bitch!” he grits amid his painful shrieks. “Now, you die for sure,” Amir spits out. “You first,” Catheryne replies with ragged breathing. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through her veins from the shot and the encounters, her body would be screaming in pain.

Liam steps from behind her, finally catching his breath. “I told you I would find you and kill you,” he reminds him. “You won’t hurt anyone I love anymore,” he launches at him. He throws a hook towards his face, but Amir blocks it with his good forearm, but without another arm it was no match to Liam’s powerful strike and he sends him hurtling and spitting blood.

Liam locks him underneath his body and just punches his face repeatedly, summoning all the pain, rage, and anguish that he had to endure the last month and a half. “Liam, STOP!” Catheryne commands him. The blood rushing to his head makes it hard for him to hear her, but he tries. “Stop! This is too easy. Too merciful. I want him to feel pain before he dies. I want him to die in it.” Liam stops his blows and listens to her.

They quickly drag his body back to where she spent most of her time, back to the torture room. It surprises them that they knew the way back as if their revenge was showing them the path. Liam straps him to the electric chair. Catheryne steps from behind her fiancé and orders him to go outside.

“No, Catheryne, I can handle it. I want to see him suffer too,” her usual lovely king replaced with a vindictive man driven to exact vengeance to the man who caused him so much agony.

She nods somberly and gives her attention to the man in front of her, “How does it feel to be on the other side?” He doesn’t answer her and only looks intensely at her face. If only looks could kill.

She punches his battered, bloodied face repeatedly before grabbing his face with her hand and forcing him to look at her eyes as she says, dripping with hatred, “You’re going to know exactly what I felt like. You’re going to die, but the difference is you are going to stay dead.”

She shoves a scalpel to his thigh and twists it inside him. His cries pierce her ears as she moves to slice his arm open, but Liam catches her wrist before she does. He takes the bloody scalpel off her hands. She begins to protest, but one look from him closes her mouth.

He looks at him intensely his nose several inches away from his face before he punctures his arms with the same scalpel, cutting him from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. His body speaks for himself; he is beyond angry. He has abandoned his regal, polite manner. He wasn’t the king now. In the heart of this tunnel, he is the enraged man who wanted to hurt this man in all ways imaginable. He throws the scalpel away and punches Amir in the stomach.

“Alpha, where are you? It’s time to go!” he hears in his transmitter. He steps back and informs Catheryne of the information. She turns back to Amir, who is barely lucid, and says her farewell, “Enjoy hell, you bastard!” With that, she turns on the electric chair and runs with Liam out of the room back to the entrance.

They run hand in hand out of that godforsaken tunnel. She sees the gathered team already inside the helicopter. They begin to ascend and Drake hands Liam a detonator, “Here. I think you should do it.” He nods at his friend and pushes the button. Right below them, the planted explosives go off one after another, collapsing the tunnels that held his love. He feels the heat from the blast on his face as he watches as everything and everyone inside that tunnel is buried. He whispers to Catheryne’s ear,

“Let’s go home.”

[fbismostunwanted1158]

Untitled MSR/Scully Whump Pt. 2

“Mm.”

“I know, I know. I’ll let you go without a fight this time,” I hear the sad smile in his voice, “But, I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“Mmhm.”

“Yes. Alright. I’ll wait outside when they ask me to.”

I’m being laid down on a gurney. My ribs protest, breathing deeply only worsens it’s effect.

“Just keep breathing, ma’am. We’ll get you some pain meds on board soon. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Ten to one there’s going to be a pen light shining in my—yep.

I clamp back down; the right side of my face throbs intensely.

“I’m going to palpate the area, you’ll feel some discomfort.”

That’s an understatement. Fingernails dig into my palm in an attempt to fight crying out. Mulder slips his hand in mine, offering support.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a fractured eye socket and a dislocated jaw. Not a break, there could be some hairline fracturing, we’ll need to get an x-ray.”

The sudden pressure on my abdomen takes my breath away and I hear myself moan.

“I’m here, Scully.” Thank you, Mulder.

“We’ll schedule an MRI too. Let me draw some labs, Sharon’s going to start your IV, alright Ms. Scully?”

“Mm. T’nks.” Morphine. Thank Christ.

“Oh, the doctor should be in soon to put your jaw back in once the morphine and muscle relaxers start to work. Just sit tight for me.”

Blood drawn, IV started; I could feel Mulder fidgeting. Only time will tell if the drugs kick in before he jumps through the roof.

“Hi, Dana. I’m Dr. Lee, I’ll be taking your case. Excuse me, sir,” Mulder must be closer than I originally thought. Cold clinical hands map out the damage to my eyebrow.

“Hm, the bleeding is impressive, but this laceration is actually pretty small. I’m thinking only five or so stitches.”

‘Only five or so.’ Nice.

“I know it’s a discomfort, but I want you to open your left eye and use it as best you can. We’re monitoring you for a concussion. We need to check for signs and symptoms.”

Yeah, yeah. I know he’s right, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.

“Scully? C’mon, do as the good doc says.”

Alright. Fine.

There he is. He’s mildly blurry, but he’s still my Mulder. Well, the morphine’s sure working.

I slowly focus only to notice the moisture shining in his eyes. He gives his best smile and looks across the gurney. Gingerly, I turn my head to see a young male doctor.

“Sir, actually, I’m going to ask that you stay while I set Ms. Scully’s jaw.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. The worry furrowing Mulder’s brow matches the nervous energy fluttering in my belly.

Looks like I can do it manually. Just plain and simple,” his gloved thumbs slip beside my molars, “On three, Ms. Scully. Sir, if you could keep her from moving? Thank you. Alright. One, two, and—“

Oh, Mary Mother of God.

“Shhh! It’s over. It’s there. We’re done. All done. Breathe. Just breathe.” I can’t tell if Mulder is talking more to me or himself.

I realize that I’m shaking. Shivering uncontrollably. A combination of the meds and trauma. Nice.

“The shaking is normal. The shock the body is in, combined with the medication. It should subside soon.”

Now it’s Mulder’s turn to have a death grip on my hand.

“Sir, if you’d like to leave and come back? I want to clean up her cut and start a more detailed exam.”

“I’ll be back. Okay?”

“Mmhm.”

A small kiss to my good cheek and begrudgingly Mulder disappears from my sight.

——————————

‘Overnight for observation.’ Of course. The loathing sentiment toward that phrase grows exponentially with each hospitalization.

Groggy from the wonderful cocktail I’ve been treated to, I attempt to grab at my water pitcher.

Just as I’m about to hunt for the bed control, a light knock and the opening of my door bring a smile to my face.

“Room service.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyes when I see what he has in tow.

“I, uh, heard you were on a soft diet for a while. So I took the liberty of procuring some of your favorite ‘froyo’,” we both chuckle at his sarcastic emphasis on his favorite portmanteau.

I pat the bed on my side with the good eye while he brings the bedside table around. Ah. Two spoons. He laughs outright at my inquisitive stare.

“Well, I figured you’d be okay with sharing?”

I grin as best I can and rest my hand on top of his.

Two careful bites of caramel swirl—of course he bought my favorite flavor—and he’s already brushing gentle fingers over my face.

“Jesus, Scully. I—,” he swallows hard and averts his eyes, leaving his hand to stroke the hair away from my forehead, “I saw him. Saw him...beating the hell out of you.”

“Mul—“

“It scared the shit out of me.”

Back to studying me again, he takes his spoon and offers me another bite. I take it. Movements so gentle, as if I’m made of glass.

“I know how strong you are,” another small bite, “that’s one of the many things I love about you.”

I am taken aback. The advantage of my silence allows him to continue unhindered.

“I, however, have discovered how weak I am.”

That’s not true. Not at all.

“Witnessing...that today? That was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Worse than Samantha.”

I grip his wrist. As hard as I can. I know that I’m crying.

“I could’ve stopped him. Should have. It should have been me taking those punches, Scully. I should have—“ I press a single finger to that perfect mouth. Sticky from the caramel; he kisses my finger. Slowly. Sweetly.

I bring my hands around to gather his face. Pulling him to my breast, he comes willingly. Nestled safely in my arms, I hum to him aimlessly. Purring, almost.

The frozen yogurt could wait. Finally, I inhale deeply and revel in the fact I can smell the musky spice of Mulder.

Restless as always, he attempts to speak more. After a few times of shushing him, his breathing evens out while I scratch lightly at his scalp. My Spooky savior.

“Mmph. ‘Cully, ‘monna f’ll sl’p.”

“Shh. S’kay.”

“‘Kay,” he sighs, “Jus’ lil n’p.”

He shifts his lanky form to lie fully beside and on top of me, shins awkwardly resting on the foot of the bed.

Just when I think he’s asleep, he kisses my sternum.

“Hm. L’v you.”

Love you too, Mulder. Always.

[cardiaccadillac]

Brit Psycho: Part Two, an extended Ketch x Carter fic teaser.

Tagging: @kittycat-cas @plungerwhisk, @it-started-with-yellow-fever

Warnings for graphic torture.

There’s a poetry in it, Ketch thinks, twirling the blade in his fingers as it glints under the surgical lights. Demon doctor tied up on her own table, under her own scalpel. Seems a fitting way to gouge the thorn from the Men of Letters’ side.

He reaches down to pull up Carter’s bloodied shirt even higher, exposing more skin to carve at. It’s already so scarred, and he has to admit he’s a little taken aback by the sheer amount of white scar tissue criss-crossing her abdomen. Still. Won’t stop him from adding more.

He picks a spot between her sixth and seventh ribs, right side, and sinks the scalpel into her liver. She screams, throat raw and bloody as he carves.

“I can make this all stop,” he says, voice cold and calm above the shrieks. “Just tell us where Kelly Kline is and what your plans are for her child.”

Carter’s scream cuts off, strangled into a grunt, but then there’s silence. She stares up at the warehouse ceiling, eyes unfocused, breathing heavy.

“No?” Ketch prompts, trailing the scalpel over more of her exposed skin. The blade finds her throat, probes the artery. No pulse. Of course there isn’t, but now he’s intrigued. “Very well, then.” He slices, and she screams again, writhing making the cut worse as he pulls back a flap of skin. “All you have to do is talk to us, doctor.”

She continues to cry out, intermittent screams in between heavy breaths, almost sobs as her chest heaves. It gets louder, more pained as he drags the blade towards her clavicle. Her fists clench. “Fuck!” The word is raw. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Ketch smiles, starting a curve down across her chest, and then, “Yes!”

He pauses. The blade lingers, confused.

“No, don’t stop,” she pants out, eyes screwed shut. “Right there. Keep going.”

What?

This wasn’t expected. Tentatively, he tries dragging the blade again and for a moment it seems that she’s screaming in pain. Then she gets louder, and there’s no mistaking it’s laughter.

“You fucking idiot,” she eventually snarls. “You have an entire fucking dossier on me, yet you missed the main fucking thing.” Her eyes snap open. She fixes him with a glare, cold and menacing, and it takes him a heartbeat to realise he miscalculated. “I don’t feel pain.”

There’s no chance for him to reassess, evaluate. She moves. The restraints snap clean as her hand comes up, shockingly powerful, and close on his wrist to shove the scalpel away. He gasps at the tightness of her grip, instinctively trying to pull back, and then she’s rising like a demented Frankenstein from the table.

“Radiation sickness did a number on my nervous system,” she taunts, voice hard and oblivious to the wounds dripping blood. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” His free hand grasps at the tray of instruments, searching for something he can use as a weapon, but she kicks it out of reach and twists his arm hard, leaving him with the choice of dropping to the floor or suffering a dislocated elbow. He goes down.

“You bitch,” he snarls, voice flooded with hate-fueled anger. She hadn’t just played him. She’d humiliated him too.

“Nah. I think you can be the bitch.” He hears the crunch before his body catches up with his brain, and he screams.

She’s crushed his wrist. Whatever superpowered alchemical formula she pumps herself with, it’s turned her grip into a vice capable of shattering bones, and his hand immediately goes limp.

He’s starting to realise there were a lot of mistakes in her file.

It’s no mercy when she lets him go, the change in pressure suddenly triggering a fresh wave of shock, and he can barely breathe as he clutches his hand to his chest. Through the waves of pain turning his vision red, he tries to get to his feet again, make it to the gun he’s left beside his jacket just a few meters away.

Behind him, there’s a mechanical hum and the rattling of chains as Carter’s found the controls for the warehouse loading gear he’d used to get the table here in the first place. Maybe this wasn’t the best location after all.

He’s practically made it to his weapon, hand closing on the handle of the pistol when he feels something heavy collide with his shins and he’s knocked off his feet. A chain’s wrapped around his ankles, tightening up to his knees as Carter manipulates the other end, then she hits the button for the pulley overhead to pull it taut.

The chain begins to drag him back roughly over the floor. Pain shoots through his body as he twists and tries to fire, most of the shots going wide, then with a jolt he’s pulled up and off the ground altogether. One bullet finds her hip, but all it gets is a look of irritation.

Carter stands with the control in her hand, waiting for him to be lifted upsidedown until his head is slightly below level with hers, then she shuts it off. She crosses to him with a scowl and wrenches the emptied gun from his hand. “Amateur,” she spits, tossing it away, then reaches up to unfasten his belt.

Ketch’s heart is pounding, blood quickly rushing to his spinning head. “Well, I have to admit, well played,” he pants between the waves of pain, though his composure is slipping quickly. “I really bought that little show of yours.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve caused enough pain to know what it looks like.”

She twists both his arms behind his back, good one and crushed alike, and secures them tightly with his own belt. He screams again, vision blacking out, and when it returns he can see the sadistic smile that’s settled on her lips. He knows that smile. Seen it reflected back at him in the blade of a knife enough times.

“Let me tell you, it looks something like that,” she says softly, then starts working at his shirt, unbuttoning it carefully before pulling the fabric back to expose his chest. “You reckon you’re a hotshot, but I have decades of experience on you.”

He watches her turn away, going to retrieve the scalpel from where he’d dropped it to the floor and wheeling the cart of instruments back over. She isn’t lying. It had all been there in her file: kept alive for decades by her own experiments in alchemy, and most of them spent in the business of torture.

“You know, my father was a Cossack,” she says, wiping her own blood from the scalpel on his shirt. “Fled to England after the revolution, but he taught me how to hunt. Small things like foxes and badgers at first, but it got bigger after we came to America. Bears, deer…that sort of a thing. Taught me how to skin what I catch too, and it looks like I caught me a Ketch.” Her lips twist, smiling at her own joke. “Let’s see if posh boys like you really do have blue blood…” The tip of the scalpel comes to rest in the soft space below his ribcage, almost teasing, as she watches it move with the frantic thrusts of his abdominal aorta.

His jaw clenches. He’s bested, and he knows it. And scared. “Alright,” he hisses out, chest tight. “What do you want?”

It was a mistake to assume he could bargain the same way he’d offered her. She leers. “I want you to scream.”

The blade skims down over his sternum, grazing enough to draw a trickle of blood, then she finds his left nipple. She teases at it, scalpel scraping until it hardens to a point, and he feels his stomach turn.

She only has one nipple. He’s seen it: the twisted mass of scar tissue where the other one should be, and for a moment he wonders if she’s going to carve him in her own image. Then the tip of the blade moves an inch or two towards his navel, digging in where his heart beats beneath the skin.

It lingers, the moment drawing out as he braces for the pain, and wonders if this is some technique to make him more afraid. Her expression is blank, save for the strange intensity of her stare fixated on that point on his chest.

His heart beats several more times, pain pricking his skin in time with his rapid pulse, then at length she sighs and turns away. Ketch blinks in confusion.

“When the master torturer of Hell came to recruit me, I told him to go fuck himself,” she says as she retrieves the control for the pulley. “I’m not breaking my streak for you.”

He’s still bewildered as she lowers him to the floor again, landing in an awkward pile, and can’t help but flinch as she moves to help him untangle the chains. She doesn’t look at him when she cuts the belt, and he lets out an involuntary whimper as he clutches his hand to his chest.

“What, gone soft?” he tries to taunt, but his voice trembles.

She fixes him with a blank stare, and even the unreadability of her expression is unnerving. “Let me take a look at your wrist,” she eventually says. “I’m a doctor.”

[wallythayer]

The New Science of Concusssions

More than three years later, Amy Zellmer can still recall the sound of her head hitting the frozen concrete. She slipped on ice near her St. Paul, Minn., home in February 2014, and that noise signaled a change in her life that resonates even today.

“It happened just like that!” she says, snapping her fingers. “I imagine I looked like Charlie Brown.”

Zellmer landed on the back of her head and estimates she was knocked out for a minute or two. When she stood up, she realized something wasn’t right. She was dizzy, wobbly, sick to her stomach. “It was like little lightning bolts going off in the -corners of my eyes — the proverbial ‘seeing stars.’”

She realized she needed to go to the ER, but when she tried to locate the nearest hospital on her computer, she couldn’t read the screen: “That’s when I knew I had a problem.”

So she telephoned a neighbor, who soon arrived and soothed the bump on Zellmer’s head with a package of frozen peas. The neighbor then asked the time-tested question, “Who’s the president?” Zellmer answered “Bill Clinton” — two presidents off. A friend’s husband happened to be a chiropractic neurologist and he immediately made time to see her at his office. He told Zellmer she had suffered a concussion and major whiplash, including torn muscles and a dislocated sternum.

The stars disappeared in a couple of days, but effects of the fall lingered. Zellmer experienced aphasia and short-term memory lapses. She got lost while driving. She struggled to concentrate and tired easily. Dizziness made her head spin. Strange mood swings disrupted her days.

“It was like I had been on a boat for a long time, or had just taken off roller skates, and I still felt like I was moving. It was constant, like I was drunk all the time.” Other days, it seemed she had an evil head cold and was lost in a never-ending fog.

Zellmer, now 43, saw several doctors, ophthalmologists, and other specialists over the next two years. Nothing seemed to help. She was finally referred to a craniosacral therapist, who gently massaged her scalp. After a couple of treatments, she remembers hearing a distinct noise in her head and feeling a huge sense of relief. That sound signaled a release of pressure, which instantly cleared her fogginess. (For more on craniosacral therapy, see below.)

Still, Zellmer’s cognitive issues endured. She consulted a neurologist, who referred her for a four-hour exam: She scored worse than a dementia patient. A neuropsychologist prescribed Ritalin and antidepressants, but Zellmer refused to take them, viewing the pills as Band-Aids for the real problem. Whatever that real problem was.

The Invisible Disability

Seeing stars. Getting your bell rung. A knock on the noggin. In the not-so-distant past, we shrugged off head injuries with quaint euphemisms — a cute way of skirting the seriousness of a traumatic brain injury, or TBI.

These days, the medical world takes TBIs seriously, as we now know that seeing birdies is more dangerous than we ever imagined. The far-reaching and seemingly disparate health effects of TBIs can include cognitive problems, coordination dysfunction, hormonal disruption, digestive issues, and mood disorders. At the same time, we’re learning more about how to treat TBIs and their repercussions.

TBIs cover a spectrum of severity, from subconcussive to concussive (which account for 70 to 90 percent of all cases) to fractured skulls and worse, explains Vani Rao, MD, a Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine neuropsychiatrist, in The Traumatized Brain.

The brain is jarred in a concussion. It accelerates forward, crashing into the skull (known as a coup injury), then it often bounces back and hits the rear of the skull (contrecoup). Sometimes, it twists atop the brain stem as well.

Contrary to common perception, you don’t actually have to hit your head to get a concussion: It can result from whiplash, or even from the shock waves of an explosion, like those that troops experience in combat. This can lead to or exacerbate PTSD, according to a recent study.

A TBI can harm the brain in numerous ways. It may cause bleeding (an intracranial hemorrhage) or create a blood pool or clot (a hematoma); the brain tissue itself may be bruised or torn. These injuries can then put pressure on the brain, resulting in harmful inflammation.

It can also cause oxygen deprivation, leading to the death of brain cells, and twisting on the brain stem might result in vestibular or endocrine issues. In addition, a TBI can damage the axon fibers that carry messages between different parts of the brain.

The effects might be subtle or dramatic, singular or myriad:

• Physical conditions, such as headaches, seizures, hearing loss, and vision issues, including seeing double, blurriness, eyestrain, light sensitivity, and depth-perception dysfunction.

• Hormonal disruption resulting in blood-sugar dysregulation and emotional problems, such as depression, anxiety, mania, or apathy.

• Digestive issues, including microbial changes, motility problems, and increased gut permeability.

• Behavioral upsets like sleep disturbances, impulsivity, aggression, even psychosis.

• Cognitive issues including problems with attention, memory, language, and executive functions, such as organizing, planning, sequencing, and monitoring or modifying behavior.

“Most people with mild TBI make a spontaneous recovery within the first few months of injury,” Rao explains. “But mild brain injuries are not always benign.

“Traumatic brain injuries are, in a sense, a silent epidemic, because often, after persons with TBI have been treated in the emergency department or released from the hospital, family members or friends may assume that they are now ‘fixed.’ There may be no physical evidence of injury, so it is easy for others to believe that everything is back to normal. Unfortunately, that is often not the case, especially with more severe injuries.”

Accurately determining how many head injuries Americans sustain each year is difficult because many of us don’t visit a doctor after hitting our heads. Still, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that Americans suffer between 1.6 million and 3.8 million sports- and recreation-related concussions annually. This discrepancy is huge because so many TBIs are never reported.

But those statistics don’t reveal the true scope of the issue for one crucial reason: While sports-related TBIs get the spotlight, they account for a minority of all head injuries. Forty-seven percent of all TBIs are the result of everyday falls, according to the CDC. These incidents are especially prevalent among the elderly; a new CDC study finds that one in 45 people age 75 and older suffers a fall and TBI.

Innocuous falls happen to all of us in daily life as we slip on stairs, trip over rugs, tumble from ladders, or stumble while carrying items when we can’t see where we’re going.

Because of these everyday head injuries, an estimated 5.3 million Americans are currently living with a lifelong disability — that’s roughly one in every 60 people. TBIs also account for 30 percent of all injury-related deaths.

The fact that there’s no clear count of head injuries suggests we’re still largely in the dark concerning their dangers. Public awareness is growing, however, thanks — ironically, as it turns out — to one source: The National Football League (NFL).

“Shaken Up On the Play”

Football players wear helmets — exhaustively engineered, thoroughly tested, incredibly expensive helmets — that are supposed to protect them from TBIs, even after the uncountable instances of head contact many sustain during every practice and game.

But in 2002 a young forensic pathologist named Bennet Omalu, MD, in the county coroner’s office in Pittsburgh, performed an autopsy of “Iron Mike” Webster, the legendary Pittsburgh Steelers lineman who died at age 50. A Hall of Famer, Webster was known for his durability, never missing a game during a 10-year stretch between 1976 and 1985. He spent the last decades of his life struggling with dementia, delusions, paranoia, and explosive moods. Though Webster was believed to have died of a heart attack, Omalu sensed something else.

CT and MRI scans of Webster’s brain found nothing abnormal. So Omalu did a specialized protein-stain test; the results were startling. Webster’s brain was clouded with massive accumulations of tau, one of the proteins that causes Alzheimer’s.

Omalu believed that Webster’s brain had been rattled by the cumulative effect of all the subconcussive head injuries he suffered over his 17 NFL seasons. His report on Webster’s autopsy was published in the peer-reviewed journal Neurosurgery, where Omalu coined a name for the syndrome — chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE. Encephalopathy is a broad term for a disease that alters the brain’s structure or function.

Omalu’s report garnered wide attention for CTE, and for TBIs generally, prompting a slew of studies. Among the more notable is an ongoing study at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine that began in 2014, in which researchers are examining a group of retired pro football players; their findings to date suggest that repeated brain trauma causes molecular changes to brain tissue that can have consequences for decades after.

Notably, some brain injuries happen without a concussion: They can result from a single blow to the head or repetitive hits over time. “There’s no such thing as a safe blow to the head,” says Omalu.

Fearing for football’s very existence, the NFL went on the offensive. League lawyers and doctors took a page from Big Tobacco’s playbook to obscure the link between cigarettes and lung cancer and worked to discredit Omalu and downplay CTE. At the time, the NFL didn’t even have concussion guidelines for assessing players — as sports commentators like to say, they were merely “shaken up on the play.”

The NFL seemed to be winning the game in dismissing CTE. But after Omalu found CTE in autopsies of four more NFL players, the media, and soon the public, took notice. Head injuries became big news.

Brain Games

Head injuries are not limited to football, of course: They happen in hockey, cycling, soccer — most any sport. Nor are they limited to the pros.

In a study published in Radiology in 2016, researchers examined the potential effects of subconcussive head blows on the 3 million U.S. kids playing organized youth football. They studied 25 players age 8 to 13 over a single football season, conducting advanced neuroimaging using MRI with diffusion tensor imaging (DTI) scans both pre- and postseason. The players’ helmets were fitted with Head Impact Telemetry System (HITS) sensors to assess frequency and magnitude of impact.

The kids were “hitting their heads hundreds of times over the approximately three-month season” without suffering actual concussions, says lead study author Christopher Whitlow, MD, PhD, chief of neuroradiology at Wake Forest School of Medicine in Winston-Salem, N.C. He was interested in understanding the cumulative effect of these subconcussive hits.

Whitlow’s team found “measurable brain changes” to the white matter in the youths’ brains: “When you look at these players, they don’t look any different; they’re not behaving any differently. Do these changes mean anything at all? Perhaps not. Maybe these changes all go away like their bruises after the season and this is just another manifestation of a physical sport.

“But the issue is that we don’t know,” he says. “What happens after two seasons? And ultimately, is your lifetime cumulative head-impact exposure the thing that makes a difference?”

In a 2016 study of amateur soccer players published in EBioMedicine, researchers found that heading a soccer ball — just once — causes instant changes to the brain. They did trans-cranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) and electromyographic (EMG) recordings followed by cognitive tests of 19 players age 19 to 25 before and after routinely heading balls. They discovered alterations in brain corticomotor inhibition and cognitive function — in particular, memory-test performance was reduced by up to 67 percent.

“The good news is that these changes in brain function were transient, with effects normalizing within 24 hours,” explains lead study author Magdalena Ietswaart, PhD, professor of psychology at Scotland’s University of Stirling.

“The bad news is that we do not know whether there is an accumulative effect when this biochemical disruption is repeated over and over again through weekly heading-practice drills, or what the long-term consequences of heading on brain health are.”

The Road Back

As doctors learn more about the consequence of TBIs, their knowledge is leading to new treatments. Given the range of seemingly disconnected symptoms, protocols are often individualized based on the results of sophisticated tests.

“Treating head injury requires a multifaceted approach,” explains functional neurologist Brandon Brock, DC, of Cerebrum Health Centers in Dallas–Fort Worth. “Sometimes it requires medication to control symptoms. Sometimes it requires diet and nutrition to allow appropriate healing. Sometimes it requires the appropriate neurological exercises to give the brain harmony and symmetric function.

“We need to make sure there are no underlying triggers that were there beforehand that would keep the person from healing, like diabetes, thyroid problems, or infectious disease that can make the inflammation so sustained that people can’t recover.”

Receiving treatment soon after an injury is preferable, because the brain remains plastic and responsive for days or weeks, Brock says. The longer you wait, the more likely the brain gets set in new, problematic patterns. But if an injury is months or even years old, a new battery of functional-neurology tests can still detect symptoms, and treatment remains possible.

For Amy Zellmer, it wasn’t until two and a half years after hitting her head that she found hope for recovery. She connected with functional neurologist Jeremy Schmoe, DC, of Minnesota Functional Neurology and Chiropractic in Minneapolis in August 2016. By this point, she was begging for help. She described her many symptoms — and, for the first time in all her consultations with specialists, Schmoe validated them. “I was like, Hallelujah, somebody understands!” Zellmer remembers.

Using a platform posturography test, Schmoe examined her balance. He conducted video analysis of her gait. He checked her autonomic nervous system, since concussions often skew heart rates and blood pressures; the combination of a higher resting heart rate and uncertain spatial awareness can result in an overactive startle response and hyperanxiety. He used videonystagmography (VNG) to check her eye tracking. Then he outlined a course of vestibular rehab to improve her balance and dizziness, and manual therapy to treat the effects of her whiplash.

Schmoe prescribed neuro-orthopedic rehabilitative exercises to help Zellmer restore her eye–brain coordination. And he recommends yoga — in particular, TBI survivor Kevin Pearce’s Love Your Brain program (www.loveyourbrain.com).

“We challenge the nervous system with different types of sensory inputs to activate the brain to make changes to the objective findings that we identify during examination,” Schmoe explains. “If we see that you’re off balance to the left, we might do an exercise to stimulate the left side of your body to give your brain better awareness of where you are in space.

“The nervous system is amazing. It’s elastic: You can make changes to it with repetition, intensity, and frequency. You just have to give it the right stimulation to help build plasticity.”

He next ran blood labs to check Zellmer for anemia, infection, inflammation, thyroid and hormonal imbalances, autoimmune disorders, and vitamin D or magnesium deficiencies — all of which can affect recovery.

Hormonal disruption can cause issues ranging from emotional imbalance to mood disorders, as well as blood-sugar dysregulation, says Schmoe. “When you hit your head, the midline areas of your brain get torsion, which can injure the areas that affect your pituitary output. This can affect the adrenals and thyroid. We see people develop a whole metabolic cascade of symptoms after a brain injury.”

There’s an axis between the brain and gut, he explains, and “literally within a couple of days after a brain injury, your gut lining could start to be affected.” Schmoe explains that this can cause recurrences of past gut issues, including infections and insulin dysregulation.

“If you can address the brain and you can improve the circuits in the brain, you can make changes to the gut — it’s a bidirectional pathway,” he says. “By improving the brain, you can improve the gut. Then if you loop back around and improve the gut even more, your brain’s going to heal faster. You have to look at everything when it comes to brain injuries.”

For Zellmer, the improvements were swift.

“Within two weeks, my dizziness went from a nine out of 10, to a two. Once I got the dizziness under control, it freed up so much energy.”

Today, she continues her therapy and is improving. She runs her own business as a photographer, but has also started new work: raising TBI awareness. She lobbies state and national legislatures, serves on the advisory council of the Brain Injury Association of America, and has self-published two books on the subject.

Her recovery is still in progress, but Zellmer is optimistic. She says she is now on “the road back to normal.”

Get the full story at https://experiencelife.com/article/the-new-science-of-concusssions/