#Cauterize

[fandomstuckportal]

((they call me workplace hazard))

[elsewhereuniversity]

The Gentry will not touch one groundskeeper, named everything and nothing at once. It is not out of fear, they say. Just a deal and healthy respect. Students can find them through the large crow that follows them, as well as small forget-me-nots that bloom in their wake. Despite being blind (one chemistry major suggested it was silver nitrate, judging by the terrible burns across their brow and cheeks), they can see what others cannot.

Their name is Cauterize. They walk the grounds at night, retrieving students from the Gentry’s grasp. If you are alone (or not), they will find you. The nights they wander have the least amounts of students taken (and those who encounter the Fair Folk). At dawn, they vanish.

Their name is Remember. They dive to the bottom of the pool on days where it stretches endlessly. It is not advised to comment on their lack of breath, nor the gills lining their throat. Student and Fair Folk alike are pulled from the depths at no cost, with some even still alive. Their eyes are glassy and focus with too much precision for someone who cannot see.

Their name is Crashing Waterfall. They enter fairy circles and exit with students missing for hours, days, years. The Fair Folk do not deal lightly, but they take care of changelings and the…unusual staff and students in payment. They can be relied on to work out deals and conflicts with the Gentry.

Their name is nothing, and they change by the day. Follow the forget-me-nots, and don’t look into their eyes for long. You won’t like what’s reflected in them.

Their name is everything, and they are a groundskeeper. They see without sight and protect their students. Do not anger them. Do not fear them. You are safe.

x

[icypantherwrites]

New Fic: Stay with Me

Summary: Lance is bleeding out and despite how fast Shiro slogs them through the bog he knows he’ll never make it to help in time. The only chance Lance has is if Shiro can somehow stop the bleeding but he doesn’t have any bandages on hand. But… he does have a metal hand that would be more than capable of cauterizing the wounds shut…

Story snippet:

Shiro cast his eyes back down to the too pale face that was a direct contrast to the bright red blood that painted the boy’s entire stomach and chest where what Shiro could only call a dinosaur alligator monster had erupted with no warning out of the bog in front of them and clamped its entire mouth around Lance in one bite.

It was honestly a miracle he hadn’t literally been chomped in two.

The boy’s high scream was not one Shiro would ever get out of his head even as he’d surged forward and driven a violent purple wreathed prosthetic arm straight through the alligator’s head and sent both gore spattering and eyes dulling. 

Lance hadn’t quite screamed then as Shiro had ripped an arm through the alligator’s snout, completely removing the upper piece and pulling its teeth out of Lance with a new splatter of blood, but the choked inhale was almost worse.

Shiro though hadn’t had time to be gentle though as the alligator’s carcass was already starting to sink and Lance was attached to it. He’d dragged Lance off the teeth embedded in his back and the boy had convulsed in his arms and vomited up both bile and blood all down Shiro’s front.

“Sh-Shiro,” Lance had choked out as Shiro had hoisted Lance as much as he could out of the chest deep water and into his arms, his entire body trembling as pinpricked, terrified ocean eyes had sought out Shiro’s face, blood mixing with the bog water.

Shiro faintly had wondered how many more creatures that was attracting.

Read it here

[tombofmemories]

Mark Tremonti

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📸 : officialalterbridge

[petrifiedfountainofthoughts]

let's leave it all behind us find a nice little island where we can live like a story that ends like a fairytale

[sunnyxjarrus]

actually I do have a favorite word

it’s cauterize and I literally never get to use it like last time I used it was to compare it to cathartic because someone mentioned it and I don’t know definitions but the time before that was probably like a year prior when I used it while talking about Star Wars

[evolution-ofa-geek]

this song will be on rotation on my playlist for a while

[letitbehurt]

Cauterizing wounds. A fervent “bite this,” before a bit is shoved between Whumpee’s teeth; shallow breaths and white knuckles; tear tracks and sweat-soaked hair; red-hot metal and burning flesh, Whumpee’s body tensing as they scream.

[rufuslupislupis]

So, did everyone see K doing the work of a team of people for four days straight and just decide that was a normal thing for them to have done and not, like, INCREDIBLE thematic work.

Like. The problem is not that K is self-centered or that K is selfish or even that K is a dumbass. The problem is that K has never learned how to champion a cause. K has been trying to fix the world, not just Evan, and the whole *gestures* thing with his arm is not just about their ‘I can fix him’ mindset.

It’s ‘I can fix everything.’ It’s ‘I can fix what I SPECIFICALLY broke.’ Magic is gone because K wanted to have a world full of wonder and hope. Like, Evan’s lack of healing is directly followed by magic breaking, and that is why K is so desperate to fix it. Look at what K has been doing to fix what they have broke, look at how Teddy’s been forced to stay inside and how K has actively deteriorated. It’s not just about this one thing! The character flaws go so deep.

It is not normal to do what K has been doing. It is actively detrimental to do what K has been doing to themself. K fucks up (or at least perceives themselves has having fucked up) and then K takes a big, risky swing to fix the fuck up and then that fails, too and K has to fix it again so K takes another try…

The ARGs and the trench coat look and Teddy in a room all day and K not eating enough. Those are a big swing too. Those are a big, flashy way to fix things because again K has not learned how to champion a cause, K did not properly recover from Terminal Onlineness even if they did learn how to stop viciously bullying people for bad opinions.

K has a deeply admirable, genuine desire to help and the way K chooses to help is Big Swings and the rules of the world have changed. The rules of the world have changed. This is NOT Big Swings time, this is buckle down and work at small goals and focus in time.

Evan tried to help and failed too. But what Evan tried to help with was a t-shirt, not a broken arm, and so the consequence was nothing but an errant bird.

[jordanstrophe]

Cauterization.

Whumpee's been pinned down by caretaker. They're calm, knowing it's just a precaution, but as soon as the burning rod gets closer to their body, whumpee starts shouting "Wait! Wait, I need just a minute. Please give me a minute!"

Everyone's face twists with sadness, before the one holding the rods gently says "If I don't, you won't be alive in a minute." 

[cauterizedpod]

The casting call for Cauterized is live! The survival/horror audiodrama features a doomed sub and misfit team tasked with making the transition to the surface possible. It's a task that might be stacked against them after every other attempt has failed.

There are four very different roles up for grab! Butch eldest sister, cool older woman who loves plants, bastard snake secretary, and the big man in command (who's not really a great guy, to no one's surprise)

You can find all the information on the project, roles, guidelines, and submission details here!

[doubledyke]

when you're hanging out with your crush and he puts on the brain surgery tape

[necrotic-nephilim]

"--but why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?" w/JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

this one was such a fun pick, anon. i will warn you, this one has some... very dark dialogue. the JayTim is absolutely unrequited, but Tim is forced in a situation where he has no other choice bc of some Ra's tomfoolery. you *could* read into there being Ra'sTim as well, but that's not the focus, it's just 2.8k of unhinged JayTim. enjoy <3

Tim had lost count of the days.

He was pretty sure he was somewhere in the range of ten days and two weeks. He couldn’t use how often he was fed as a gauge when it seemed purposefully sporadic to throw him off. There were no windows in his cell.

Not that it looked like a cell, but Tim insisted on mentally calling it one, mostly for fear of Stockholm Syndrome getting the best of him. No matter how large the bed was, with an ornate carved cedar headboard and cotton sheets. No matter the plush carpets and en suite bathroom with a gloriously large shower with limitless hot water. No matter the shelf full of books to keep him entertained and patterned wallpaper.

This was still a prison. Tim was still forcibly attached to the bed by a long chain connecting to a thick metal cuff around his wrist he’d yet to figure out how to pick.

Tim had to let himself believe the lock could be picked. He had to hold onto hope there was some kind of escape.

The real contrast of the lavish room wasn’t the chain, though. It was Tim’s current state, naked and questionably close to bleeding out.

Not that it would matter if Tim died.

Ra’s al Ghul had already revived him with a Lazarus Pit at least four times, and he had made it clear he had no qualms doing it again. And again.

Tim went with ‘at least’ as a mental marker, because he was certain the Lazarus Pit was starting to influence his mental state.

However many times it took, repeating the vicious cycle of coming in to torture Tim until his body gave out, then giving him a violent, unwanted rebirth. Each time, Tim was pretty sure he lost a piece of himself, somewhere deep in those glowing waters.

He was sure he’d been angrier and fighting harder to break free once. Now, that anger was drifting somewhere in the Pit, far out of Tim’s reach. Tim had heard that rapid repeated exposure to the waters of Lazarus could have degrading effects on one’s mental state.

But he never thought he would learn that firsthand.

Instead of fighting and clawing at the wrist cuff like Tim had been doing for days, he just laid on the bed, sprawled out and staining the chartreuse sheets a bright crimson, staring at the cuff. One time, Tim had clawed at the cuff until his nails ripped out of their beds and he was biting a pillow in pain, watching his skin shred trying to pull it apart.

Those injuries, much like his feral desperation, were washed away now. Every scar Tim had earned over the years was gone now. He was losing pieces of himself.

After his next death, Tim promised himself he’d redouble his escape efforts. Run his hands along the walls again, test the door frame, find something that he must’ve missed his first dozen tries. He wasn’t going to let himself rot here and be changed into someone else, just wearing the corpse of Tim Drake.

Ra’s could take a lot of things, but he couldn’t have Tim’s humanity.

For now, though, Tim was just going to lay in the bed, breathing as shallowly as he could. All his body’s survival instincts were in overdrive, making him light-headed and his heartbeat a rapid, fluttering thing, trying desperately to hold on. He had yet to figure out how to get his body to let go of those responses yet.

Because the worst part wasn’t dying. The worst part was the animalistic attempt to survive that came just before his body gave out. Tim’s mind had fought alongside his body the first time he died. The second time too.

By the third, Tim had just naively hoped Ra’s would let him stay dead.

Now, Tim was just tired and waiting for it to be over with.

Just when Tim was considering getting up and trying to speed up the process, he heard a commotion. He lifted his head and squinted.

The ninjas who brought his food were always so silent in how they moved that Tim couldn’t hear them even when they were in the room. So the running feet, the yelling-

The gunshots.

Definitely a fight. Tim snapped back to reality. He sat up as fast he could, trying not to let his body dip and sway the way his perception did. It had crossed Tim’s mind, that rescue would come at some point. But he refused to hold onto it as anything other than a futile last hope.

And even now, it didn’t feel real.

No one who would save Tim used guns. The ninjas definitely didn’t use guns either. Tim carefully wrapped the chain around his fist. Whatever energy was left in his body was better spent fighting like hell than just laying there and accepting death.

The door to Tim’s room slammed open and Tim sucked in a breath.

Of all the people it could’ve been.

“Look at that,” a smug, modulated voice crowed. “I’m the lucky guy who actually found your sorry ass.”

Jason Todd reached up and pulled his Red Hood helmet off, shaking his hair loose. Tim didn’t like the look of his smile.

Granted, he didn’t like the look of Jason Todd in general, but that was beside the point.

“What are you doing here?” Tim hissed through clenched teeth.

Jason just shrugged, walking into the room with slow, casual steps. “Bats wanted to find you bad. Bad enough he was willing to call me and offer a truce if I helped storm the stronghouse.” He shrugged like it meant nothing to him. “Looks like you’re lucky I said yes. You’re already half dead.”

“Others are here?” Tim’s breath caught on his hope.

“The whole fucking calvary.” Noises of a brawl sounded in the distance and Jason spread his hands, as if his point was proven. He took another step forward just as a ninja ran into the room, sword raised and charging Jason. Before Tim could warn him, Jason shot the person in the head over his shoulder, making them drop to the floor. A full-bodied flinch went through Tim at the sight of blood spraying the beautiful wallpaper. With an annoyed huff, Jason turned and kicked the door shut.

He didn’t signal for backup. Tim’s skin prickled at the sight of the shut door and Jason stalking toward him.

“This is the part where you say thank you,” Jason prompted lazily, getting within an arm’s reach of Tim. Tim couldn’t stop his body from recoiling, eyes flicking down to the dead body on the floor. “Oh come on. Now’s not the time to worry about morals. I gave them a quick death. You should be thanking me for that too.”

“I’ll thank you when you get me out of this,” Tim said, lifting his arm to show the cuff. He pressed his palm against the cut on his chest, the one responsible for most of his blood loss. Ra’s had blamed Tim for that one, saying it was his fault for squirming too much. Tim knew better, though. He knew every drag of Ra’s’ blade was always exact and purposeful.

Jason tilted his head to the side and leaned in close. He smiled with tiger teeth and snake eyes. “See, I would but-” his eyes dragged up and down Tim’s battered form- “why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?”

Tim was suddenly all too aware of how naked he was, skin prickling. He grabbed a handful of sheets and yanked them over his lap, trying to cover himself. Jason made no move to stop him, just watching the motion of Tim’s arm as it grasped for a crude attempt at modesty.

“You said Bruce is here,” Tim chose his words carefully, trying not to show fear. He was better than being afraid of Jason of all people. He blamed the worst of his feelings on the vulnerable state he was already in. His fingers clenched the sheets to hide the way they shook.

“He’s around somewhere,” Jason waved his gun in the air dismissively. “But he’s not here, is he?” Another wave of the gun to gesture to the room. Jason’s eyes flicked down to the gushing chest wound. “You really need to cauterize that.”

“Do I look like I have something to cauterize it with?” Tim shot back, sluggishly. He didn’t let Jason distract him from the real point. “If you try anything, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Jason rolled his eyes. He searched around his utility belt, pulling out a lighter and a knife. “Tattle to Bruce? Fight me?” He snorted. “I don’t know which is more amusingly unrealistic.” He flicked the lighter on and held it under the knife.

Tim watched the blade heat up, eyes widening. “You’re not going to-”

“You’ve got a better idea?” Jason arched an eyebrow. “It’ll really piss B off if you fucking die.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Tim muttered under his breath. He cringed as soon as the words came out. That was too much information to be giving to Jason.

Another cruel snort came from Jason. “You got your own taste of the Pit, didn’t you?”

“No,” Tim tried to lie, shifting a bit.

“You did,” Jason hummed. He leaned in even closer, until his face took up Tim’s entire field of vision. “Trust me, I recognize the look in your eyes. Hold still.”

That was the only warning Tim got before a red hot blade was pressed against his skin. Tim opened his mouth to scream against the burning pain, but gloved fingers were shoved into his mouth to muffle the noise.

Tim tried to bite down on Jason’s fingers hard enough to break them, but the gloves were too thick and his body was too weak. All he could do was glare and grasp at the sheets.

The look in Jason’s gaze was terrifying. His lips held a slight smile and he looked hungry, eating up all of Tim’s tormented noises. Tim’s pain was a feast for Jason’s sadism. Tim was struggling just to stay alive and Jason looked like he was having the time of his life, licking his lips and swallowing hard.

Tim was starting to think maybe he preferred Ra’s over this.

Finally, Jason pulled the knife off of Tim’s searing skin and Tim sagged in relief. He almost fell over before Jason caught him around the waist, pressing Tim against his suit. Blood smeared over Jason’s jacket.

His fingers were still in Tim’s mouth.

Tim tried to speak around them but Jason just forced his fingers in deeper, making Tim gag.

“I could probably sneak out with you, you know,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. “Tell Bruce I got bored and left. They’d just think it was a bust.”

TIm had never understood Jason’s complex over him. He knew it was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. With Ra’s, Tim could at least find the root of the obsession.

With Jason, not so much.

He was always breathing down Tim’s neck and trying to get a rise out of Tim. Wanting Tim to work with him, pay attention to him, anything he could get. It reminded Tim of trying to tame a needy dog.

This was a step too far, though.

This made it all make sense in ways Tim regretted knowing as soon as it hit him. He twisted his head around until he managed to spit out Jason’s fingers, coughing.

“You don’t have Ra’s’ manpower,” Tim bit out the words. He tugged hard and uselessly against his cuff. “You couldn’t hold me for long.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Jason hummed. “Tell me, Drake, you pissed off enough to actually try to kill me, yet? Or do you need another dunk?”

“Give me that knife and find out,” Tim curled his hand into a fist. He was bluffing. Just the thought of killing someone nauseated Tim, his eyes briefly flickering over to the dead body on the floor.

No amount of the Lazarus Pit could turn Tim into that. A cold-blooded killer who didn’t even look before he shot. Tim was better than that.

He was better than Jason.

He just had to distract Jason long enough to find where he kept his lock-picking tool, stab him in the eye with it, and then break free and find anyone else.

Maybe Tim was against murder, but there was just enough cold rage in him to crave bloody violence. He squirreled away his logical thoughts on the matter, for now. The situation warranted just a bit of brutality.

Someone had to teach Jason that he didn’t always get to have what he wanted.

Jason dared to groan softly. “Tempting. So fucking tempting. How would you kill me, Drake? Would you gut me? Slit my throat?” He sounded far too into the idea of it. The knife in his hand started trailing up Tim’s bare back. Not deep enough to cut, but still leaving goosebumps of fear in its threatening wake. “We borrow enough Lazarus water and we can take turns killing each other.”

“Borrow,” Tim echoed the word with an incredulous laugh. “Like Ra’s would let you.”

Jason’s laughter was sickening. “Didn’t plan on asking permission.” He paused, just as the knife dragged up to the base of Tim’s skull. “I’m serious, you know.” His voice got quieter. “I’d do it if you wanted to.”

“Kill each other?” TIm’s heart was pounding. He was doing the exact opposite of getting himself out of this situation. He was sinking deeper and deeper into Jason’s clawed grip and didn’t know where the escape route was anymore. He couldn’t pull away from the hold, with the knife pressed where it was. He definitely couldn’t fight Jason like this.

Tim was trapped in what he was pretty sure was a prison of his own making.

“Kill, kiss, fuck.” Jason shrugged. “I’ll take any of the above.”

Tim swallowed down blood and bile. “You couldn’t handle me.” He couldn’t show fear. More than couldn’t, he refused to. Giving Jason his fear would just spur Jason on more. Or maybe piss him off to the point of just killing Tim and leaving him there.

Now, with the teetering edge of Tim’s sanity under Jason’s scrutiny, Tim was positive he’d shatter if he got dipped in those green waters again. And he refused to let Jason keep the pieces left of Tim to himself.

He was not going out like this.

“Wanna bet?” Jason asked. “Winner takes all.”

He sounded insane. He probably was.

And he wasn’t letting Tim dance around a lack of an answer any longer. The tip the knife started to press harder until blood was trickling down his spine.

Placating Jason seemed to be the obvious and smartest survival method. If Tim faked it long enough, he’d have to have an opening sooner or later.

“If you can keep me alive long enough to get the hell out of here, then we’ll talk,” Tim chose his words as carefully as he could. He kept his tone light, in a way that was practically teasing. He hoped it was enough.

Jason practically preened, his whole body shivering against Tim’s. He lifted the knife from Tim’s neck to reach for his belt. Tim was able to suppress his sigh of relief, hearing the lock on his cuff click.

“Can you stand?” Jason asked, pulling away to stand up, but still keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Possessively, almost.

Tim gave him a withering look. “Do I look like I can stand?”

“Good point.” Jason shrugged. He lifted Tim almost too easily, an arm around Tim’s waist to haul him off the bed, forcing the sheet to fall away. “God.” Jason paused for just a moment, looking over Tim’s naked form. It made Tim felt studied under a microscope in a way that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He’d just signed a deal with the devil, and he was already regretting it.

Jason managed to snap out of it and carried Tim toward the door. Tim just held onto Jason’s neck for support and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself he hadn’t just made the stupidest decision of his life. He could still distantly hear other Bats fighting off ninjas. Salvation so close to Tim, yet still out of reach. Jason easily stepped over all of the dead bodies as they slunk through the hallways, away from the noise and into the darkness.

Tim couldn't escape the awful chill crawling down his spine; pressed against someone who was possibly more psychotic than the madman he was being promised escape from, grandeur illusions traded for the ugly truth of Jason's desire. His flicker of hope felt like it was being snuffed out by every heavy step of Jason’s boots. The best he could pray for was for Jason to give him a cell as nice as the one they were leaving behind. 

Out of one den of vipers and into another.

[letthewhumpbegin]

The Boys, s2e6

[painsandconfusion]

I fuckin knew someone had invented this so I didn't have to draw it myself-

okay so imagine this

Dagger with shit cut into it like this so it slices in, then shreds as it pulls back out.

food for though

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1336

Anon asked:

Prompts for a character (with fire powers) having to cauterize a comrade's wound?

I have a few:

"Hold them down. This is going to suck."

"On three?" / "No no, just surprise me, I'll just tense up otherwi- OW!"

"I know, I know, It'll be over soon." The character with fire powers says, they hate the fact they're inflicting so much pain but it's a necessary evil if they want the whumpee to make it to the doctor/healer.

"Just do what you have to do." / "I don't want to hurt you." / "I'm already hurt. You'll be helping." / "I just wish there was another way."

Maybe the character with fire powers worries about losing control, as emotion and stress affects their magic. Maybe the whumpee is left with a larger scar than necessary because of it, and the character is now always reminded of the event because of it. How does the whumpee feel about the scar? Do they love it? Or do they secretly resent it/have to come to terms with it?

Bonus: "Ssh, sshh, I know, I'm sorry. It's alright it'll be over soon."