#TW: Surgical malpractice

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pairing: Yandere!Ieiri Shoko x Reader (JJK).

Runtime: 3.2k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con (False Pretenses), Mentions of Pregnancy, Cheating (Reader is in an Established Relationship With Gojo), Fingering, Medical Malpractice, Manipulation, and Overstimulation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

The examination table was cold as ice against your back.

She’d been nice enough to put down a sheet of sterilizing parchment, but not much more. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as you waited, too nervous to check your phone and risk seeing the newest addition to Satoru’s never-ending barrage of texts, too obedient to do anything other than stay where you were and stare blankly at the chipped, white tiles of her ceiling. That was what she told you to do – or, at least, what you thought she’d told you to do. It’d been difficult to understand her through her surgical mask, only pulled down slightly to accommodate the cigarette she was holding up to her lips, and come to think if it, she might’ve just meant to wait near the table, not strictly on—

The door opened, creating a break in the silence just long enough for you to pull yourself back together, and you bolted upright before your thoughts could start to slip, again – the stiff parchment crackling in protest underneath you. Your eyes found Shoko just as she slipped inside, letting the door fall shut on its own behind her.

Out of all of Satoru’s friends, Shoko had always been your favorite. There was obviously the gender bias (you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t have gravitated towards any woman in Satoru’s overall civil, but absolutely male-dominated social sphere), but even if that hadn’t been the case, you liked to think that you would’ve gotten along with Shoko, regardless. She was always so calm, always so level-headed, rarely smiling but slow to lose her temper, too. Being around her made you feel a little less like the awkward, oblivious non-sorcerer who’d stumbled into a world you still didn’t completely understand and a little more like someone who knew what they’d gotten into and who to rely on, when your own limited abilities fell short. You trusted Shoko, even if you’d only talked to her alone a handful of times. If you didn’t, you never would’ve come to her for something like this.

She stopped at the nearest counter, retrieving a pair of latex gloves from a nearly empty container, before coming to stand next to your table. You knew she’d been smoking, but the heavy scent of disinfect and rubbing alcohol smothered any traces of lingering smoke there might’ve been. You were thankful. You’d been sick with nerves for the better part of the past week, and you didn’t need another reason to feel like you were on the verge of throwing up.

(In the back of your skull, something cruel and vile whispered that there might be another explanation for your sudden bouts of nausea – something less ignorable than pure, ungrounded anxiety. You drowned it out before it could reach your conscious mind.)

Shoko broke the silence without prompting. You were grateful for that, too – you really didn’t have the courage to speak up first. “So,” she started, leaning on the edge of your metal slab. “You wanted to see me because of a… late period?”

Her mask hid most her expression, but you could make out the faint hint of a chuckle underneath her bedside manner. Your eyes fell into your lap. “A missed period,” you corrected. “I haven’t gotten it this month, either.”

She hummed, but didn’t respond. You sighed. Shoko was grounded, but she wasn’t kind. You should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy for you.

“I’m worried I might be pregnant.”

To her credit, if she was surprised, it was impossible to tell. “Have you been taking your birth control?”

“Yeah, obviously, but I’m terrible about remembering condoms and Satoru never manages to pull out.” It felt strange to describe your sex life to your boyfriend’s closest friend, but you soldiered on. She was a medical professional, a doctor. Your preferred methods of protection (or lack thereof) couldn’t have been the worst thing she’d heard that day. “I’ve already taken a test, but I just want to make sure. Cursed energy is already so complicated, and I know Satoru exceeds a lot of expectations. I don’t know if he, like, has—”

This time, she cut you off with an airy, but blatant laugh. “You think he’s got magic sperm?”

“He fights invisible monsters and teleports,” you snapped, your anxiety turning into irritation in the blink of an eye. “I don’t think ‘magic sperm’ is that unrealistic!”

For a moment, she seemed to regard you – her dark eyes boring into your wrinkled clothes, your disheveled hair, the bags under your eyes nearly deep enough to match her own. Even if she didn’t understand why you were worried, she’d have to recognize that you were, in fact, worried. And, if she really was your friend, she’d at least offer to help.

You held your breath until finally, she cracked, straightening her back with and audible sigh. “And why, exactly, couldn’t you go to a standard obstetrician about this?”

“Because you’re the best doctor I know and I’d trust you with my life?”

“Try again.”

“Because I can’t afford the co-pay and if I use Satoru’s card, he’ll find out.” You deflated after finishing, crossing your arms over your chest. “I… I really just want to know. If it turns out I did have a reason to worry, I’ll figure out what to do next, but—” This time, your voice cut out all on its own. You forced yourself to swallow before going on. “I just want to know, first. Satoru doesn’t have to be involved.”

It was an awful position to put her in, you knew. For as much as you trusted her, she’d known Satoru for years. She had every right to go to him about this, even if you really, really wished she wouldn’t. She didn’t owe you anything, much less her help. Much less her silence.

But there was a reason you trusted Shoko, that you felt as unreasonable close to her as you did. Above her mask, you saw her eyes soften before they flickered away from you, landing on the counter she’d already visited. “Lay down and take off what you need to,” she said, her gruff professionalism back in full force. “It might not be conclusive, but the most I can do is a physical examination. It’s not much, but if you don’t trust a real test, it’s the best thing I can offer you.”

You couldn’t help yourself – nearly falling off the table as you pulled her into a bone-crushing, lung-flattening hug. “Ieiri, you’re the best,” you nearly shouted, your voice bouncing off the blank walls of her office. You moved to thank her again, and again, and again, but she pried you off of her before you had the chance, muttering a curt ‘you’re welcome’ before turning away to make her preparations and escape your unwanted gratitude. You managed to stop yourself from chasing after her, and yet, you were still smiling as you settled back onto the table.

Still, embarrassment quickly dampened the brighter edges of your relief as Shoko glanced over her shoulder. “Are you comfortable with undressing here, or would you rather leave the room?”

You blanched, and Shoko was kind enough not to laugh before going on. “You did know you were basically coming to be for a gynecological exam, right?”

“I mean, yes, but—” You hadn’t, but then again, you weren’t sure what else you’d expected. This made sense, even if it was leagues beyond anything you thought to brace yourself for. If Shoko thought it would help, then it’d help. “Do I get a gown, or…?”

Her eyes fell to your skirt, long enough to fall just an inch or so above your knee. “That won’t be necessary. Take off your panties and lay down – I’ll be over in a second.”

Your face burnt, but you nodded, and she turned away. Biting your inner cheek, you swung your legs over the side of the table and kicked off your shoes. Shoko pretended to be preoccupied while you shrugged your panties down your legs and, with no other option, stuffed them into the pocket of your jacket. It was awkward – lying down and spreading your legs with Shoko less than a full ten feet away. It was one thing to ask your acquaintance for medical advice, and another to let your boyfriend’s friend act as your pro-bono gynecologist.

You heard a few tools clatter onto a metal tray, the padded feet of a stool scrape across the tiled floor, and wordlessly, Shoko positioned herself at the foot of the examination table. “This should only take a few minutes,” she said, as her gloved fingers skirted along the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before reaching your pussy. Your labia, you corrected, internally. If she could be a professional about this, so could you. “Let me know if you feel any pain.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused intently on the ceiling above you. Even if you had looked down, your skirt would’ve blocked most of your view, which was how you preferred it. You couldn’t see Shoko, and hopefully, she couldn’t see the way you flinched as she spread a cold, pricking sort of lubricant over your entrance, as she eased two fingers into your otherwise dry cunt. You’d assumed she would use a tool, but then again, you couldn’t imagine what kind. And besides, you really shouldn’t have been questioning a doctor.

Shoko’s voice was gruff, distracted. “How’s that?”

“F-Fine,” you squeaked. “Please, do whatever you need to.”

“Satoru’s got you that worn down, huh?” She let out a breath of a laugh, but leaned in, easing her digits into until she was knuckle deep. Her fingers were thin, but long and graceful in a way that made them difficult to ignore when paired with the strange tactility of her gloves. Her free hand curled around your ankle, as if to hold you in place. “I’m going start the test. It might feel a little strange, so try not to move.”

She gave you a moment to brace yourself before spreading her fingers apart, inadvertently pressing against the sensitive walls of your pussy. On reflex, you snapped your thighs shut, but Shoko caught you by the knee before you could attempt to break her arm. “Easy there.” And then, as her thumb pushed slow circles into your skin, “Think you can hold these open for me?”

You didn’t try to say anything, but with more than a little effort, you spread your legs – planting your feet more firmly on either corner of the table. “Thatta girl,” Shoko muttered, seemingly more used to comforting scared pets than nervous patients. “Remember – we’re here because you wanted to be. If you want to back out, just say the word.”

You shook your head furiously, instinctually. You’d never do that to Shoko, and she seemed to know that – not waiting for verbal confirmation before starting to move. She seemed to need to stretch you open, judging by the repetitive, scissor-like motions of her fingers, the way she huffed in irritation as she slipped yet another digit inside of you. You knew it was inappropriate, but it would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from heating up, from squirming, from dampening around her in a way that you couldn’t entirely separate from arousal. You kept your hips still and dug your teeth into your bottom lip with enough force to break the skin (you would’ve rather died than moaned during a medical exam), but your cunt wasn’t as easily reigned in. It wasn’t long before a sickeningly slick clicking-type noise accompanied every little movement of her fingers. Hopefully, she’d just assume she’d used more lube than she’d meant to. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself, if she didn’t.

“Like I said – it’s a quick procedure, not a comfortable one. Most patients have a difficult time staying still.” It was humiliating – how steady her voice was while you were falling apart, fighting just to keep yourself from bucking into a medical professional’s hand. It took everything you had not to whimper when the scissoring slowed, then stopped altogether, only to be immediately replaced by the awful, terrible, embarrassingly wonderful feeling of her fingers curling inside of you, grinding against the most vulnerable part of your cunt. “It’s important to be thorough, though. I’m sure you understand why this is necessary.”

She couldn’t have done it on purpose. Nothing about this could’ve ever been intentional, and yet, when her wrist slipped, the heel of her palm seemed to land perfectly onto your neglected clit. It wasn’t much, just the hint of stimulation, but it was enough for you to seize-up – your nails scrambling helplessly over smooth titanium as you came, silently, around her fingers. Shoko, ever the professional, didn’t so much as slow down.

She only hummed, keeping her hand where it was – her palm now grinding broad, harsh patterns into your clit. “Are you usually this easily stimulated?”

You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to choke out was a single, jagged whimper. Shoko clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased that in a way you’d understand.” And then, as she spread her fingers apart cruelly, “Do you normally cum in less than a minute with Satoru?”

This time, a strangled cry was as much of an answer as you could’ve possibly given. You weren’t sure why she was asking, but… this wasn’t normal for you, was it? And now that she mentioned it, you did feel more stimulated than you should’ve during anything remotely medical. Your skin felt hotter, more sensitive where it’d come into contact with her lubricant, and it was getting hard to think, hard to justify not grinding into her hand as she curled and twisted her fingers inside of you. God. You knew you’d been a wreck, lately, but you never would’ve thought that it gotten this bad.

The nails of Shoko’s free hand bit into your ankle, and too strung-out to stop yourself, you let out a whine by way of protest. She chuckled, and suddenly, you were empty, left bucking your hips into vacant air as she drew back. “Poor thing,” she muttered, her sympathy tinged with a sardonic sort of condescension. “I’ve got one last test. Think you can bear with me?”

“Ye—Yes,” you chirped. At that point, it was meaningless – you would’ve agreed to anything so long as she was the one suggesting it. You’d shut your eyes at some point, but you could still hear Shoko’s footsteps, feel her standing above you as she positioned herself at your side. One gloved hand cupped your cheek while the other pressed something blunt and thick against your cunt and, with no warning other than a mumbled reminder to ‘breathe, pretty girl, breathe’, thrust it inside of you.

Her reminder, sadly, proved useless. The air hitched in your lungs as a ribbed shaft filled your overeager pussy, the object curved in a way that made it feel like it was pressing into every fucking part of you at the exact same fucking time. Your hands shot to Shoko’s wrist, searching for something more forgiving than cold metal to ground yourself with. You tried to pull yourself together, and you might’ve been able to if two distinct, silicone-wrapped prongs hadn’t slotted against your clit or, even more damningly, if whatever tool Shoko was using hadn’t started to shake.

Saying you came embarrassingly quickly would’ve been an understatement. There was no pretense of dignity, this time; just grit teeth and twitching legs and one long, miserable sob. Shoko nursed you through it, rocking her vibrating tool inside of you gently until your climax had died into total limpness and the occasional, unsteady gasp. The tool was drawn back, but Shoko’s hand lingered, her thumb tracing patterns into your cheek. “Such a good girl,” she mumbled, and you melted into her touch. “Feeling a little tired?”

It was sickeningly guilt-inducing, just how nice she was being to you after you’d done nothing but humiliate yourself in front of her. “A little,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly. Shoko smiled back. You couldn’t remember when she’d taken off her mask.

“Close your eyes and catch your breath. I’ll finish up while you get a little rest.”

It was all you could do to nod before slumping into yourself, your body going slack despite your best attempts to hold yourself up. Her reassurance was nice, but unnecessary.

In less than a full second, you were out like a light.

~

In Shoko’s defense, she did actually take the time to check. After you passed out, as delicate as Satoru had always bragged you were, she tested the blood sample taken prior to your “exam”. It took a total of three minutes, and left her with good news and bad news to deliver when you woke up.

The good news was, predictably, that you’d been right. You were pregnant. About a month along, in fact. Congratulations, mazel tov, etc.

The bad news was, of course, that you were pregnant, and that Satoru had finally managed to knock you up. Thoughts and prayers, get well soon, etc.

 From her make-shift desk on the far side of the room, she spared a glance to where you were still sleeping on her autopsy table. You’d rolled onto your side since she last checked on you, your pleated shirt bunching at your waist as you used your arms as a rudimentary pillow. It’d be a lie to say she didn’t understand why Satoru had gone so crazy about you so quickly. What you were – an ordinary human with enough cursed energy to see, but not act – was rare, your continuous ability to gloss over the uglier parts of their world in favor of perpetual, delusional optimism even more so. It’d be impressive, if she didn’t know it was going to get you fucked over eventually.

You were cute. It’s surprised her when she first met you in-person, when she first realized that.

It’d surprised her a little less when she realized that you even cuter mumbling gibberish as you came around her fingers.

Her eyes fell back to the phone in her hand. Her messages with Satoru were already open, what she’d been deliberating on telling him already typed out. She sighed, checked the picture she’d taken of you sprawled out on her table, three of her fingers buried in your cunt, and hit send.

[1 attachment]

your girlfriend has something to tell you.

sending a bill for my time btw.

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling that Satoru was typing a response, before disappearing just as quickly. He tried calling her a second later, and she muted her phone before tossing it half-heartedly in the nearest drawer and turning back to you. Judging by your durability (or lack thereof), she’d have a few more minutes before you woke up, and another half an hour before the aphrodisiac gel she’d used on you started to wear off. You’d likely want to rush home to Satoru, when you finally got your hard-earned results.

Again, Shoko sighed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It’d just be a waste not to have a little fun while she could, right?

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 1 : Red Tainted Walls

Summary for the Stories and chapters going forward :33:

They Found Out... His Parents found out.. And Worst Case Scenario Happened.. Heh— I guess I spooked them too much with my new identity. They opened him up as if he was already dead and Jazz ran to Get Help from Dan. But it hurt so much.. Please Arrive Quickly.. Please save me... Just like before. Or This is a story about how Danny gets De-aged because of Jack and Maddie's doing, Dan and Danny are basically twins but Danny just got De-aged and now Dan needs to be the adult after They killed jazz. Vlad then sends them to Gotham to apparently find their Biological Father. Dan also experiences Teenage Social Anxiety and totally losing his shit about it!

TW : Graphic Depictions of Vivisection, Violence, Child Abuse, Child Murder, possible Descriptions of Gore and Medical Malpractices.

Happy Reading!

[𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲-𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫]

[𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 21𝚜𝚝, 8:35 𝙰����, 𝙵𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢]

"Dad Please— Listen! It's still me! I'm still Danny! Mom!" Danny cried out as tears roll down his cheeks overflowing from his eyes as he Watches in horror.

"Shut it Ecto-Scum! How dare you use our Precious Son's Body to Deceive us!" Maddie Yelled and continues to point her gun at Danny, Danny was Horrified, He was scared of how they'd reacted, He only wanted to be honest with his parents thinking that maybe... Maybe they'll accept him..

"Mom! Dad! Please! That's still Danny!! Listen to me!!" Jazz cried out in the other side of the room as Jack restrained her, rendering her unable to get close to protect Danny from their Mother.

"Please.. I'm Danny... I'm still your Son..." He sniffled, tears flowing out even more as Maddie looked at him as if he was nothing more than... A monster...

"Shut it! You will pay the price of messing with the Fentons and Deceiving Us!" Maddie grit her teeth and furrowed her brows as she aggresively yanked and dragged Danny who was still sitting on the floor, she was dragging him down to the Laboratory.

Danny cried out to Jazz and Jack, Jazz called back.. "Jazz... Look.. that's not Danny anymore.. Danny is Dead." Jack tries to convince Jazz but Jazz Wasn't budging. "I KNOW MY BROTHER JACK! GIVE HIM BACK!" She cried out sobbing uncontrollably.

Maddie shut the door to the laboratory and Jazz could no longer hear Danny. Neither could Danny Hear her. He kept crying out but then Maddie put a tight collar on his throat and it send waves of electric shocks throughout his body making him scream out in pain.

It reminded him of his death and it made his body spasm the way when he became a Halfa. It terrified him even more, Maddie then forcibly put a Muzzle on him to "keep him quiet" she says. Danny tried to reason with Maddie but everytime he tries to she sends another wave of electrical Shocks through his body and so he just fell silent.

Maddie threw him in a cage like some sort of Injured Monster that needed containment at once.

His tears wouldn't stop flowing, they kept falling and thus he sobbed uncontrollably in the Containment Cell, Danny saw the Ghost Blobs staring at him with worry, they're buzzing with sadness and grief over what's happening to him, his heart aches as he tries to reach for them but couldn't...

His core ached and wrenched at the thought of what Jack and Maddie are about to do to him and it's like he can already see that Maddie was preparing surgical equipment... He felt like an innocent frog Infront of high school students ready to study his Innards..

Jack and Maddie are the Highschoolers. The only difference is he's already dead in the first place... And they can do anything they want with him because of the Laws.

May God be his only hope now.

Ancients Save the Ghost Prince.

[9:00 𝙰𝙼, 𝙰𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔]

The Guys In White/Ghost Investigation Ward has arrived. They have higher advanced technology now, it seems as though when they were gone they were advancing their technology to find ghosts more accurately.

They put the Whole Town in Lockdown claiming that there's people that's Ecto-Contaminated and needed to be terminated before they become a threat...

But..

Those are children.

They've killed nearly everyone, some has already tried to call the Justice League again in desperation but they ignored their pleas thinking that this was a Prank Call.

It was just like before, they kept thinking they were prank calls after A child tried to ask for help because the whole town was sucked into the afterlife.

Jazz ran through the streets evading the Ghost Investigation Ward and heading to Vlad Masters. She needed to tell Dan, Knowing Vlad he won't be able to help because this is probably all Clockwork's Scheme for "Danny's Future Betterment", Jazz couldn't stop the tears forming from her eyes as she kept running.

The GIW has already terminated the children in cold blood.

Some younger than 10. Some teens. And 2 of those teens were Sam Manson, one of Danny's best friends as they have concluded that because of how long they've been around Danny that Danny had contaminated them and that they're no longer safe for everyone around them and themselves as well.

The Mansons tried to stop The GIW from shooting their beloved daughter but the GIW unfairly concluded that they were being overshadowed by their daughter thus they killed the Mansons in Cold Blood.

How unfair must this world be that even the so called Justice League wouldn't even hear their calls of help. They needed help from the heroes but it seems they're always too focused on other Matters... And that the safety of some Somewhere Middle of Nowhere Illinois Amity Park was not deemed "important" enough to be saved. It made Jazz's Heart Clench at the thought of how Danny was right.

The heroes didn't care. She kept running nontheless through the crowd of horrified people trying to stop the GIW from killing more of the Amity Parkers.

Eventually she reached Vlad's Mansion, she busted in through the door taking Dan Aback. "Jazz? Why are you crying? What's happening?" Dan asks immediately and getting closer to Jazz as soon as he saw her.

"Jasmine? Is everything alright dear?" Vlad asks as well in worry. Upon seeing them Jazz just Broke Down in overwhelming tears, "Oh G-god.... Hic.. they have Danny Vlad!" She utters as Vlad tries to put his hands on her shoulders trying to console her... "who has Danny? The GIW?" Vlad asks and hugs Jasmine who couldn't stop crying.

"Jack and Maddie! Jack and Maddie has Jack has Danny Vlad! They have my baby brother! My precious baby brother! They said they're going to o-pen him up! And that they'll torture him if he doesn't bring back Danny they say but that's already Danny and they won't listen, they said I must have been under control— and—AND THEY HAVE MY BABY BROTHER!" She yelled out sputtering words of panic as her breathing quickens and Vlad shushing her calming her down first before she has a panic attack.

"The Guys In White... They've killed people Vlad. Innocent People. They've claimed they're Ecto-Contaminated! And— and— Danny's friends are dead... Only a few aren't... Well I guess they're more of bullies than friends except Wes I guess but—" Jazz still sputtering words in a panic. "Jasmine! Dear.... Calm down alright?" Vlad calms her down and she slowly breathes slower in a normal pace before wiping away her unstoppable tears.

"What..." Vlad was flabbergasted and horrified to say the least and Dan looked Livid. "Please... Please Vlad... Help me... Help Danny.. P-Please..." She sobs in Vlad's Arms. "Okay... Okay okay— i— I will help." Vlad says stuttering and looked at Dan. "Dante... Will help...." Vlad says again and Dan just nods.

Jazz nods and embraced Vlad tightly, Vlad was distraught. Maddie? His Maddie? What... His Maddie had— she had... She wanted... She wanted to kill her son? Her precious son? Daniel? Danny? What...

His core ached in pain and suppressing these emotions of horror and Fear inside him that's slowly stirring up anger. Slowly his.. Obsession towards Maddie weakened because of this realization that she is more of a monster than him.

[3 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝]

"I'm sorry I can't... Come with you two..." Vlad says his core aching in regret. "It's alright Vlad... Please... We both know that... That their work.. their weapons will immediately turn on you even if you are their friend... Dan can atleast hide his.... Ecto-stuff somehow... But not you.. thank you nontheless..." Jazz says, her eyes with a soft gentle gaze as Vlad nodded, Ellie was by Vlad's Feet and smiling happily at Jazz and Dan.

"I'll be going with Jazz Now Vlad. I'll see you later once we get Danny." Dante reassures Vlad which made Vlad sigh and nodded in silence again. Jazz and Dante walked off into back into the main city of Amity Park. What they saw was heartbreaking..

Those who were killed were left on the park itself and the people of the town is burying them In tears... Why must they suffer like this? Why the children? Why? Dan asks himself, He knows.. he's killed... But... That's something else because he was under control sort but these..

These humans, they killed their kind in cold blood just because they were slightly different. "Danny?" The two hears a saddened female voice behind them. "It's Dante. Not Danny." Dante looked Back behind him. "Dash Baxter... You survived huh.." Dante says bluntly with a cold tone.

"Yeah I guess... Where's... Where's Danny?" Dash asks nervously and averted his gaze.. "They Killed... Uhm... Kwan... Star barely survived... Paulina is not fine tho..." Dash says following the two." Dante pulls him closer and hugs him to comfort the poor teenager. Dash just broke down, "They... They killed my friends... I—..." He sobbed, his jacket was still tainted with blood from his friend Kwan.

"I know... I'm sorry... Look... Danny is in danger.... Do you think you can help us?" Dante asks and Dash nodded.. "yk what... I'm tired of... Being me... So... I will help... That's the only thing I can do." Dash nods and the three ran towards Fenton works but as they do so they encounter Valerie Gray, Red Huntress.

"Where's Phantom." She asks bluntly without greetings, her voice hoarse and Rough presumably from crying. "Fenton Laboratory... They Have Danny." Jazz says and walks past her.

"Let me come with you .. I want to Save him too." Val says from behind Jazz. "Do what you want to do Valerie... The longer we pause the longer he suffers. Valerie nods and ran with them with her board.

[𝙵𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 , 6:35 𝙿𝙼]

Dash tackled open the door, "God that's one tough door you have—" he says as he pats his numbing shoulder. And they all went inside, "I'll get the metal Door." Dante says and slams it open with force.

They saw Danny in ghost form strapped on the table bleeding out unconscious. "oh my god.." dash looked away unable to look at what the Fenton's did to Danny.

They weren't home which was good but also bad at the same time as that meant they're probably somewhere with the GIW. Valerie and Jazz rushed to Danny's Side. Dante found a stitch. "Let me." Dante says as Valerie kept Danny pumped to a new bag of Pure Ectoplasm as Dante quickly stitched his Wounds with Ecto Fishing Lines. Although a bit rough to the sides he didn't care right now. What we cares about is Danny's Livelihood.

Dante was holding back his tears and Valeria Checked the Collar on Danny's neck. "I can take off the muzzle but I don't know about the collar..." She says "take off the Muzzle.. Quickly Val..." Jazz says as she held onto the IV bag of Pure Ectoplasm that's keeping Danny Alive.

Dash was guarding by the door of the basement making sure the Fenton's aren't home yet. He was scared, nervous even, regretful as well.. Amity Park is no longer a safe place to live. It's no longer a home.

Val quickly removed the Collar with Utmost Care and Tossed it away, She Frantically looked at Dan who was finishing up the last stitches.

"... Done. Let's scram!" Dante carried Danny gently and Ran up the stairs and Dash followed the 3, running out the door and into the street far from FentonWorks they hope. "Oh my Danny... Finally... We're finally getting Danny out.... Finally he's Saf—" they heard a gunshot and Jazz Fell to the ground. The other 3 froze. "JAS—" Valerie pushed Dash away and he barely dodged another Bullet.

They saw the Fenton's and GIW Behind them. Dash was terrified but Urged Dante to keep running. "JASMINE!" Valerie yelled out as she shielded herself from the gunshots.

"Go.... Just....G-go... Please... Keep Danny sa—" she was shot another time and this time it hit her head. She bled out on the side walk and Valerie was in utter shock, the Fenton's just killed their daughter... Oh my god... Her heart was racing and she flew away with her board and shield still covering her.

Dante had made themselves Invisible and Running into the Forest. Valerie had a tracker on them to make sure he can keep up on them. Why must them, children be the only logical people in this town. Why must the adults be the one to be the monsters... Valerie did not know... But at the moment she couldn't care. What cared for more is what's gonna happen in the future.

What will be the future for them?

"𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕋𝕖𝕝𝕝"

[peepoo79]

American Physician

Ch. 1–Student

AN— hi guys I’ve never written a fic before so hopefully this doesn’t suck too badly. If Bateman is horribly out of character…oops <3 anyway without further ado, here’s the hospital AU fic as promised :D

TW: dead dove do not eat—this fic will likely get pretty dark given the source material it’s based on. Will include medical malpractice/abuse, abuse of power, Bateman being himself in the worst way, etc.

***********************************************************************

It’s 6:42 AM. Seated next to me are two of my colleagues, Dr. Timothy Price—cardiothoracic surgeon, Harvard medical school alum, and my former roommate—and Dr. David Van Patten, an orthopedic surgeon who I think graduated from Columbia. The cab is cramped and smells like stale cigarettes. Typically, I’d avoid taking a cab and would opt for a private chauffeur, but my usual guy is visiting family in Nicaragua or Venezuela or some other country like that. I stare vacantly out the window as Price and Van Patten hold an overly loud, meaningless conversation. I’m hungover today, which while not out of the ordinary is still uncomfortable and leaves me feeling particularly on edge.

“Bateman, are you listening?” Price says, interrupting my train of thought.

“No, Price, I obviously was not.” I answer flatly, my attention focused on the gathering of bums —5, maybe 6 of them huddled around a fire—that we pass at the corner of 17th street and 7th Avenue.

“Whatever. I need you to settle something for us, yeah? Van Patten over here thinks that prescribing high-dose ibuprofen for post-op inflammation reduction is preferable, hell, more correct than prescribing naproxen. It’s like, basic knowledge that you prescribe ibuprofen.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s the same shit, Price. They do the same thing.” I turn to face the two of them. For a moment, I almost wonder if I heard him correctly. What a stupid fucking question.

“They’re both NSAIDs. They do the exact same fucking thing.” I find myself practically hissing this at the two of them. “Both drugs reduce inflammation by inhibiting COX enzymes, preventing the production of prostaglandins, therefore preventing the inflammatory response from occurring.”

Price snickers.

“Woah-ho, relax. We were just fucking with you. Chill out,” He says, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. Irritated, I turn back towards the window. I’ve got a relatively slow day ahead of me, no actual surgical procedures scheduled, only consultations. My least favorite part of this fucking job. I pull a bottle of Xanax from my pocket and take two, choking the pills down dry.

***

I arrive at my office at 7:00am. I’m listening to Songs from the Big Chair—a remarkable album by Tears for Fears—on my Sony Walkman when I get a knock on my door. I begrudgingly open the door to find Jean, the head of nurses on the unit, standing in front of me.

“Dr. Bateman? There’s a student from Columbia who says she’s scheduled to shadow you today,” She says as if it’s a question rather than a statement.

“A…student?” I repeat incredulously. “You’re mistaken. I never approved any request regarding a student shadowing. Tell her to leave.”

“Patrick, she’s already here, just…give her a chance—“ I quickly cut her off.

“No. Tell. Her. To. Leave.”

I turn to walk back to my desk, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. The last thing I want to deal with today is a goddamn pre-med following me around like a lost puppy. I turn back to Jean, who’s still standing lamely at the door.

“Oh, and Jean? Be a doll and run down to the pharmacy and pick me up some Advil, my head is fucking pounding.”

“Yes sir,” she says with what seems like an exasperated sigh as she closes the door. A few moments later, I hear another knock.

“Christ, what now…” I murmur to no one in particular as I make my way to the door. It’s too soon for Jean to be back; chances are it’s Price or some nurse or maybe even Evelyn coming to pester me, but to my surprise, it’s a girl I don’t recognize. She’s okay looking, in her early twenties, and has fried, clearly unprofessionally dyed blonde hair.

“Can I help you?” I finally ask, not bothering to mask my annoyance.

“You’re Dr. Bateman, right?” She asks. Her voice is slightly low for a woman and a bit raspy, possibly from smoking.

“No. He’s uh, not here.” I begin to shut the door when she steps in the way. I scowl at her.

“You’re lying, I can see your name on your badge.”

“You need to get your eyes checked then. Leave before I call security.”

Before I can slam the door on her she thrusts a document towards me. I snatch it from her and glance at it…something something, approval to shadow…something something…approval signed by….me. Fuck.

“Where did you get this?” I hold the paper up in front of her like it’s a piece of spoiled meat.

“From the dean, he met with you like, last week. You agreed to let me shadow, it says it on the paper.” She punctuates this by pointing a thin finger at my signature at the bottom of the sheet.

I wrack my brain trying to remember ever having lunch with the dean of whatever the fuck from Columbia. I sigh.

“Right…right…the uh, dean. I remember now,” I lie.

“So I can shadow you today, then?” She asks eagerly. I pause. Regardless of the paper that I may or may not have signed, I had no intentions of allowing a student to follow me around today. But, she’s…okay looking, and blonde….and probably naive and possibly single. There's a potential for entertainment.

“Fine. Just…stay out of the way.“ I agree. She seems relieved, although it’s almost certainly misplaced. She extends her hand towards me, but I make no move to return the handshake.

“I’m Tiffany, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

She shrugs. This annoys me immensely, but I choose to say nothing. Instead, I silently sit back at my desk and begin to half-assedly read through patient files. The girl—Tiffany—flops onto my couch and pulls out a stick of gum. She unwraps it, pops it into her mouth and begins chewing it loudly. For a few seconds, I tolerate it, but I quickly become annoyed and stand up from my desk and approach her, looming over the couch.

“Spit that out. Right now.”

She glares at me and continues chewing.

“No. It’s a free country, I can chew gum.”

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to bash her skull into the wall behind my couch. I inhale deeply and manage to momentarily steady myself. I crouch down to her level and get close enough that I am surely invading her personal space.

“Listen to me. While you are here in my office, on my unit, you do what I say. Otherwise, you can forget about getting any letters of recommendations from me. Hell, I can make sure you can’t get into any reputable medical school in the country. Understand?”

She stares at me for a moment, then huffs and gets up and walks to the trash can, spitting out her gum. I give her a terse, fake smile in response. I look down at my watch—I’ve got a consult in 5 minutes. I grab my white coat off the hook on my office door and then my stethoscope from my desk, draping it around my neck. I turn and face Tiffany.

“We’re going to room 3 for a patient consult. I expect you to stay out of the way and keep your mouth shut until after it’s done. Understand?”

She nods silently.

“Good. Follow me.”

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Do you have any kinks that you like to write about? Any that you don't like?

Ooh. Anon that’s a wonderful question.

Many of my kinks don’t get brought up when it comes to my requests, and generally I feel like my audience wouldn’t prefer the way I go about portraying characters when I write them.

There’s a lot, a lot more dark then the rest be ready.

Tw: Discussion of kinks further on, dark themes.

Like: Bondage (light and heavy), body worship, oral, yandere, impact, pegging, sounding, roleplay, breath and temp play, dom/sub, light marking.Heavy verbal degradation, sensory deprivation. Cucking, voyerism, threesomes, Medical malpractice adj. (Ie. Inappropriate use of medication, medical equipment, or medical profession.) Body mods, robotics, monsters. Water sports, spit, Heavy physical violence, Heavy knife play, Burning, Marking (permanent), CNC, Dubious consent, NonConsent. Mindbreak, Captivity. Primal, aphrodisiacs, Blood, blood consumption and other gore. Amputation. Anything relating to Catholic trauma.

Refuses; Forced detransition, sissification, sensual genital mutilation, general filth, puss, dirt, necrophillia, beastiality, gang, feet, socks.

When it comes to my lighter works I don’t like to include kinks so much as experience. Light bondage maybe, as more of a trust factor in these.

I get requests for softer things sometimes, and it does give me a chance to write fluffier work surrounding the characters. Many of the people I like are older men, so softer works give me an opportunity to write about their body. And their age. A huge component in these is body worship. I feel like it’s a component focused primarily on the reader most times, when in fan fiction not directed at cannon characters.

In short meaning I like to draw focus away from the readers body so they can feel attracted to the characters in the story. A lot of that is told through foreplay. I personally like oral in these cases, as I feel it adds a need of tact to an act otherwise kinda messy, lol.

In my darker works I feel a bit more liberties but I try and keep it more tame for my audience. When I want to go dark I want to make it really dark but I’m afraid I might accidentally trigger someone in my work, even unintentionally. A lot of dialogue in my darker yandere fics are based of my own and my close friends experiences, and it’s realistic. But it’s also a release of trauma and anxiety related.

Many of my kinks on this end are kind of embarrassing so please-please don’t judge me too harshly. I’m gonna go from most ‘acceptable’ to lesser. I just feel like thats a good way to go about it.

Heavy bondage, light impact, pegging, and roleplay. I like these generally, they’re on the lighter end and generally will have a softer underlying tone coming from me. Spattered about will be bits of humor and a less heavy tone.

Breath, temperature, dom/sub, light scratching, marking as in hickies. I like these, they’re pretty base but they’re good for setting the mood in stories.

I feel bad because I’m blanking on what’s more socially acceptable or not so I’m going to move onto ones I’ve been side eyed for liking to write.

Heavier verbal degradation: I enjoy this specifically in context. Usually it’s for a darker or more yandere story and plays into another element which I’ll go into more context over later.

Sounding: Like the idea of a hole that’s ‘not supposed to be used’ being used. Really enjoy that.

This one’s specific and I don’t know the name for it, so I’ll explain but I think it goes hand n hand with my medical kink.

Person a) dommed by person b. Person b) Out of control given some sort of control mech by person c. Person c) initiated it all so they could record findings.

Medical kink, needles, surgical play, medical malpractice but sexy?? Gaslighting kinda. I’m scared of the doctors but fear can be a huge motivator and I feel the sterile atmosphere of a hospital or the creepy attitudes of a doctor can set a great mood.

Body mods, robotic parts, things not considered human on a human being, plays into monsterfucking.

God I’m going to get killed for this.

Piss. Piss and spit, I find them hot, but a lot of people don’t so I never get the chance.

Physical violence to the point of pain.

Deep stabs, cuts, burns, or marking.

CNC, Dubious consent, NonConsent

Mind break, gaslighting. Heavy bondage and captivity. Again yandere themes and heavy subject matter, a lot of which has to do with subdoing the s/o of the yandere.

Primal, this one allows me to run and convey the fear I have without actually being in danger!

Drugs and aphrodisiacs.

Blood, and other gore. I don’t know what fucked me up in such a capacity to like this. I’ve never actually done this and don’t plan to.

Blood sucking came from vampires but as I grew out of vampirism It grew from there, and now I have a much worse kink that people will certainly judge me for.

Amputation, especially when it’s not needed and as a form of possession. It sends shivers down my spine. The pain plays a heavy role. It’s also about writing dacryphillia.

A lot a lot a lot of religious trauma went into my preist kink. Think of anything that can be related to blasphemy and I most likely want to fuck with it.

I don’t like forced detransiton, or other things about gender such as sissification as a trans man. Generally it makes me cry trying to write it so I just don’t.

Anything dealing with dirt, puss, other insertion I can’t deal. Genital mutilation, scat and farting are off the table.

Scent kinks are ok so long as the above aren’t mentioned.

Nothing to do with feet or socks or relating to feet or socks I will cry my eyes out.

I don’t Like Gang scenes because they’re hard. I refuse to write necrophillia or Beastiality.

Thank your for asking ive left a tldr at the top.

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

My Gender-Affirming Hysterectomy Journey

❗️❗️❗️Tldr: I wanted to write about my experience and feelings on getting a hysterectomy for both gender affirming reasons and as a medical emergency. There is a tw for suicidal ideation and organ photos are at the bottom. This does not cover everything in my journey of course, and I may write more on my experiences sometime. But this was just a very emotional write-up for me during my recovery s few days ago. ❗️❗️❗️

The lifelong journey to getting my hysterectomy was hard. As of right now, a hysto was the only gender affirming surgery I was interested in--I do experience dysphoria, but am uninterested in surgery. A hysterectomy held a lot of weight for me even before I knew I was transgender. The earliest moment I can recall dysphoria and pain over the ability to become pregnant/expectations of motherhood as an inevitability was in kindergarten. In fact, as someone with CPTSD, it is an astonishingly clear childhood memory. As I got older, the dysphoria and eventual phobia got worse and worse, no matter how hard I tried to stuff myself into a box. My dysphoria began to make my psychosis worse starting I'm high school, it affected my self esteem and bodily insecurities, it affected by sex life and relationships. Within the past four years, the dysphoria and phobia relating to having a female reproductive system began taking over my life and making me so genuinely miserable and honestly delusional over my own body.

All I wanted was a male body. And it felt like the most female and painful part of me was in a place I could never touch, but controlling everything bodily, sexually and mentally about me. Since childhood I was haunted by this and in an indescribable amount of pain. My first puberty hit and I had extreme reproductive problems--less than 15 or 20 periods in my entire life. Extreme pain. Then, starting in mid December symptoms started happening, and in January I started heavy bleeding for 80 days straight. I lost weight uncontrollably (I choose to be fat on purpose and weight loss or gain out of my control is a trigger for ED for me), I was in constant severe pain, I had cramps my doctor compared to birthing cramps, I could barely walk anymore. I fought with our healthcare system as a poor person who's trans wife was recently fired due to gender discrimination and has STILL not found justice to try and get emergency healthcare. I was told how sick I was, and that it was obvious I was at least in precancer stages, and that my entire reproductive system was basically a minefield. It was almost funny that the thing in my body that had caused me the most suffering in my life could be what killed me. My testosterone was also tanking during this time, slowing my transition and causing my estrogen to be higher than I would obviously want. It felt like my reproductive system was destroying me, and honestly it had been for a long time.

As I prepared for surgery and went to appointment after appointment, I had to keep returning to the maternity ward and gynecologist office. I was repeatedly misgendered in person and in documents and even told by an ultrasound specialist that my uterus looked fine and "there's no reason for her to have this surgery". I came out of most of my appointments crying and just wishing I had been born a man, or not at all. My mental health plummeted because I was convinced the surgery would not be successful, and overall my dysphoria was at an all time high. I never told anyone because I was ashamed, but the first gynecologist from my usual community clinic who referred me to a wider network basically walked into the room and told me I had cancer because I was fat and misgendered me the whole time. I did not tell anyone because I was ashamed and embarrassed, but my surgical team and other doctors have been amazing and let me know this was astounding medical malpractice. Still... all of these appointments really drilled into me and just hurt. It got very bad for me and I was unsure how to reach out. I felt like I was so wrong and bad inside and out, and that even my sickness was a burden. I was not sure how to go to anyone, but my suicidal ideation had gotten worse and worse since December and was beginning to peak to something that felt out of my control. It was terrifying, and at my breaking point I scheduled therapy and made the decision to go back on antipsychotics.

The day of the surgery, I felt resigned. I had hope, but I was also scared of what might happen. I have a notoriously frail body and was scared I would not make it through surgery. Or that it would be unsuccessful and... then what? I just held hands with my wife and sang to her in the car on the way there and let her love just sit with me. I hadn't slept a wink the night before and it felt like I was in a state of floating. As I was being prepped for surgery, I felt still. Somewhere in between. I got to be held by Millie one last time and I said a prayer to the diety who has walked beside me since childhood. As I was put under, all I could think about was going home and playing some video games and cuddling with my wife. Being peaceful. Being loved. Nothing wild or crazy or outlandish. Just peace.

Maybe being free of this burden.

When I woke up from surgery, the first thing I did was look around then down at my hands. My first thought was "I'm alive". After struggling so much with being suicidal, it felt so happy and real and I felt so happy to be here. I leaned my head back on the pillow and swam in and out of sleep for some time. I had no idea if my surgery was successful for an hour or so, but I was in pain and somehow felt at peace, like I knew. I finally felt like I was resting for the first time in a long time. The surgeon came to my bedside and told me that the surgery was a complete success--not only that, but it was astonishingly smooth and easy, one of the best surgeries she had ever done. I smiled and just thanked her and told her this was all I've ever wanted since I was a child. She almost cried and told me she was so happy she could help me.

Millie hugged me so tight when she could see me. We were both so relieved and so happy and I just got to tell her how happy I was. It was just tear filled joy and peace and the feeling of finally everything is okay. Finally something has went right. I will never forget how happy I was to see her and tell her it was successful (even though she knew before I did) and the feeling of wholeness I felt. Coming home really felt like coming home--plus, I had my amazing friends Nathan and Suyin there to help care for both of us and make an amazing dinner. I felt so warm and so loved and so OKAY. I'm learning to let people in and it is such a warming feeling, especially during recovery.

It's been a little over a week since my surgery and my recovery is going smoothly. My body is a lot stronger than I thought. I started my new medications yesterday, and while this isn't suddenly a cure all for my mental health, it genuinely feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My gender affirming healthcare is inspiring me to keep going. It saved my life in more ways than one. This dysphoria is no longer active--it is now a past trauma I can healthily process. I can now feel right in my body, right in my sex life, right in my gender identity in a way I never have before. Despite the mood swings that come with menopause and despite the pains of recovering from surgery, I feel more happy and whole and not-in-pain than I ever have in my whole life. I have never experienced gender and body euphoria like this before! I just feel...complete.

I am really happy I held on and had hope. I am really happy I fought my way through the medical system to get this surgery. I am happy I get to live my life with this healthcare. I look at the little boy me still deep inside my heart and hug him so tightly because WE DID IT! This feels like a new chapter to my life that I am incredibly happy to get to be here for. It's honestly difficult to put the gravity of all of this, both the euphoria, dysphoria and pain, into words. But I wanted to try.

I am unsteady, but I am okay. I am happy. I am free.

I AM NEUTERED BAAAAABY

[0xo]

tw: non-graphic surgery talk, malpractice, child death, ableism

as a disabled trans person who has experienced extreme medical trauma and surgical malpractice, i have a really complicated relationship with wanting to undergo surgery to relieve dysphoria.

on one hand, i am like... not scared of surgery itself. the last one i had, i was ecstatic about, as it was a colostomy takedown. my colostomy was a surprise emergency addition, and a major source of stress and dysphoria for me. (i recognize colostomies can be life-saving, and are not a bad or gross thing! i fully encourage ostomate positivity. however, i am allergic to adhesive, which is necessary to keep a colostomy bag on! so that obviously caused a lot of distress and frustration. i am glad to not deal with that particular problem anymore.)

i am scared of incompetent surgeons, malpractice, and surprise emergency additions. i have experienced that before and it gives me great hesitancy to engage with the medical world in general.

to this day and forevermore, i am disturbed by the way i was treated when i was dying, and by how willing particular people were to just let me die. i know, without a shadow of a doubt, i would've died nine years ago if my parents had not been fiercely and constantly fighting for my life. and i am deeply, intrinsically haunted by the thought of what happened to other children who's parents couldn't be there every second of every day. you should theoretically be able to trust that a "world-class" hospital won't murder your child, but i do not. not even a little bit.

so yes, i am scared of all the things around surgery. the table and recovery don't scare me, the fucking people do. how much is my life worth to someone who sees me as a file and a paycheck? how careful will they be with a body that's already "broken" by their standards? how can i trust that someone will listen when i am screaming that something is wrong, when i have been ignored before and it nearly cost me my life.

i am disabled. i am happy, and i have a life worth living - but more than one medical professional didn't think that was enough. their carelessness accelerated the progression of my disability. i died, i actually died on that hospital's watch, three times. how do you trust anyone after that? awards mean nothing when you kill children through ignorance and incompetence and sheer fucking ableism. i was fourteen, i was a kid, i didn't deserve any of that.

and yet... i still want surgery, more than one even. how do you balance that. how do you steel yourself for being in that environment again, to jump through those hoops and advocate for yourself. it's so... frustrating. because i know now, what it's like to have a dysphoric thing and then get it fixed, how much better that feels even if there's scarring. even if it's a long recovery. i know, i know i would feel better if i could do this. but there's still a child in my mind, scared shitless and begging not to go anywhere near those people. what do i do to calm that kid down? because that kid, fourteen, wanted exactly what i want now - they're just freshly fucked-up and so, so terrified. they grew a shell and made jokes and never actually dealt with the pain and now i'm here, trying to take care of them.

i don't think most people understand how traumatic it is. or how it sticks with you. or how whole seasons get ruined because the air is just right to remind you of months stuck inside, begging for your life or to die or for someone to just make it stop. one wrong sensation and i am trapped there again. and i'm trapped here now - there's a clear solution to my problems and yet, and yet, i cannot trust anyone to do it right. and if i want anything to change, i have to trust someone to do it right.

i want my life, and i want to improve my life by making these changes. i know i could. i know i can. but it is absolutely hell trying to negotiate with my past self about this. about if it's safe or right or going to turn out well. if i can even do it because of my health - i can't bind, even, instant pneumonia. so will i be able to bind post-surgery?

all this to say, fucking leave people alone if they can't or won't get the surgeries you "think" go with their transition. or if they don't bind or whatever. no matter how well you think you know someone. you most likely have no idea what someone has been through, or what their health is like, or what it means to them to trust a medical professional. you don't know and it's frankly not your business. and if you have any qualms about this, you personally can give me ten thousand dollars to go see the singular surgeon i think i'd be okay with. otherwise, shut up and fuck off.

[pythonmelon]

Well time for a VERY upsetting Loboto's Arm headcanon with a CLEAR tw RIGHT HERE for real world medical malpractice.

Rosemary Kennedy, the Kennedy daughter who was lobotomized at 23 by her father's order for mood swings and seizures before being shuttered away from the family for decades, suffered from Erb's Palsy after her Lobotomy, which is a condition that can be among other things caused by head/brain injury, where the nerves in one arm begin to tear or bruise and cease functioning without therapeutic and/or surgical intervention, meaning the arm ceases function and can shrivel up.

Meaning that very well could be what had happened to Loboto and either he lost his right arm to it or he/someone else without his input elected to amputate it.

[apotychies-blog]

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ hugh dancy + cismale + he/his — have you seen gabriel abernathy? they sure have been hanging out at the moon motel a lot recently. they are a thirty seven year old known as the todesengel, and they currently work for the savages as a medic, which they’ve been doing for five years. a heterosexual capricorn, they are phlegmatic + amiable, as well as detached + inhuman. cold metal edges. single sided smirk. pressed plain shirts.

tw: mentions of medical malpractice with allusions to murder and torture through medical means.

Originally from Cheshire, England, Gabriel grew up rather average. His childhood wasn’t anything really of note, only that he excelled in his studies in comparison to classmates and his elder brother, otherwise nothing eventful. 

Only, perhaps, that he always wanted to be a doctor. Even as a boy, Gabriel was fascinated by the human anatomy that posters lined his bedroom walls, books of historical and new age practices line his shelves. If anything, his parents were proud once that their son was striving for a good career with a very capable mind carving his path. They were proud once.

He even graduated and earned his full certification a few years ahead of most to which he delve right in. New age medicine was his focus, the possibilities of the human body and its capabilities, and the prospects of what trying outside standard protocol would provide. New age medicine that was unorthodox, if not plainly unreasonable and cruel to try such as chemicals in open wounds or insufficient medication administered through incorrect methods. 

Gabriel’s practice and trials jeopardized his patients more than aid their ailments. In addition, he would induce or create more injury in secret to further his research as he cured the problems he invoked. And sometimes... he just wanted to see people’s insides while still thriving-- cadavers just couldn’t hold his interest. 

Some deaths were marked as accidental or due to the patient’s medical conditions as authorities couldn’t pin an exact crime with proper evidence or argument that he wasn’t try to help them. Regardless, three years after earning his medical license he was asked to leave the hospital, or more accurately he was fired.

Unfortunately his paper trail haunted him to whichever practice, general or surgical, he applied. Each turned him down, worried they would cost them and their patients.

That was when Gabriel moved to the States, or more importantly he found Valdez and its underbelly. The Savages were in need of a medic and Gabriel was in need of a place of practice. (His initiation party was mostly everyone else celebrating the new recruit. Gabriel completed his task quickly, got his brand and left the celebration shortly for the Moon Motel.)

When he’s not working for the gang, he’s working a solo practice with a handful of patients he visits privately or personally at their homes.

And if he’s not at the Caito Mansion, you might find him in his apartment, or more likely the Moon Motel. However, he’s not there for the pleasure or physical entertainment. He rents his room for the night and shuts himself in until the morning.

No reason to question if he’s a reliable doctor, though. Gabriel keeps up with the most updated legal practices with any of the gang members who require his expertise. His curiosities are on his own time, or for when the Savages need a medic available for more questionable reasons. He’s eager for subjects, whether they are willing or unwilling to try.

Other Fun Facts: 

Josef Mengele is somewhat of an idol to Gabriel, though Mengele was faulty in his understanding of genetics in comparison to Gabriel’s work (or so he believes). Gabriel isn’t interested in genetics, though, but rather the progressive and invasive uses of practice to cure or improve the health of his patients.

Despite his insistence to continue with his methods, Gabriel has learned from his mistakes. A patient’s death will appear to be due to their own health complications, exempt from any of his involvement. Minding that this is not his goal, he prefers the living to the dead but he’s not allowing the dead to whisper further rumors about him.

Wanted Connections:

Doctor/Nurse Buddies. Enough said.

Anyone at the Moon Motel: Gabriel is a frequent visitor though he never pays for more than a room. He’s there for his own reasons but he’s available if anyone gets roughed up, worker or otherwise. You could be suspicious of him or amused by his presence, let’s talk it out.

Patients! Maybe he’s trying a new drug on them, maybe he’s their general physician and strolls along for check ups, nothing too serious. 

Drinking Buddies. He’d like having a drinking buddy or two.

Need him for a plot or have an idea for him? here is my message box xD

to be updated...