#amputation mention cw

[the-rainbow-overflow]

Drabble title: Surgery for a songbird Characters: Viroxa Galrix(picture), Unnamed bronze Summery: A brief peak into the work of a cerulean doctor and one of his many “patients”.

Very dark themes ahead, check the tags, I attempted to tag everything I could think of.If you think of others that should be here, let me know

Disclaimer: Fully aware this guy is fucked up. I don't condone any of his actions (obviously). This is a fictional character, and does horrendous fictional deeds. Read at your own discretion.

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Dark...

Cold... It's... cold.

“Ah, there we are. Welcome back to the waking world moonlight. Have a nice rest?”

Voice... Bad... Voice.

“Ah ah ah, no. You know the rules, no thrashing. We don’t want you hurting yourself do we? Well... not that you could feel it if you did. Still nice and numb from the medicine I hope.”

Force... Moving... Pushed... Down... Laying... No... Bad

"Today's the day, you are going to make the hopes and dreams of a young bronzie come true."

No...

“... You’d think this gets easier with each of these appointments. Sadly that rarely seems to be the case. Most of my donors get cold feet like you do. Every time... "

Escape... Move... Escape... Help.

"..."

"... Moonlight, please. I told you to stop thrashing... You're going to make this much harder for everyone involved. We go over this so frequently..."

No... No!

"Sigh... I had hoped the removal of your legs would have prompted a little more cooperation from you. I had assumed by the third neural vivisection you'd have dropped these pre-op anxieties, dear... Perhaps I expect too much, but really my dear, this is getting a bit old..."

"Alright, that's enough..."

Still... Be still.... No... Be still. Shh. Still... Escape!

Honestly I hate to raise my abilities to you moonlight, really you know I do, but really you give me no choice. All that movement could cause my scalpel to slip... There were go. Nice and still. Now stay just as you are while I get my tools, please. Removal of the vocal cords is a very tedious task. Soon enough though, you'll be helping a most lovely young lady sing to her heart's content for the first time in sweeps. Tragic life that one has lived, but you, you're going to give her her happy ending. I hear from a credible source your voice is quite heavenly. She'll be happy to carry its torch to an audience."

Still. Stop... Be still... Please... Still... Please stop.. Shh

"... Aw. Now now, don't give me the waterworks. This is a good thing, moonlight. Such a songbird's voice wasting away in the streets. It was only a matter of time before the drones came for you, you know. If the circus didn't scoop you up for their own entertainment. A barbaric lot that bunch can be... A homeless bronze blood, blood of your lussus still staining your clothes. I'd have given you a day if not hours. All that potential that would have gone to such a waste. To leave you out there would be to leave you for death. And we simply couldn't have that, could we?"

Death...Shh.. Die... Die... You're ok... please... Everything is fine... I don't...

"I envy you a little, honestly. A bit of you is going to reach the masses someday. A translator for that troll's hopes and dreams. An honorable position a piece of you will hold. Just as your legs helped that kind young man walk again. What was his name again. Was it-... Hm .. no that's not it..."

Name... What... Name... My... Name... Did I... Have? I... Hive... want...Go hive...

"Here we are. Everything nice and ready here. Now we can begin the operation. This'll be over in just a moment just hold still..."

Stop. Shh. Stop. Stop. Calm.. STOP

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In the quiet of a lab, the sound of a man at work are all a mind can hear. The quick, precise snipping of a surgical scalpel and scissors against wet skin every few moments. He's accompanied by the hum of machinery, it's many wires and tubes that run to and fro. Through these artificial veins pumped the false blood that kept his patient's body operational.

He could be like this for days if given the chance. The rush of adrenaline his line of work gave him was matched only by the knowledge of how much joy it brought his clients. Repurposing these old parts, rescuing them from their wasteful end, that's what this was all about. Efficiency, and the extended life of those who'd soon have had theirs torn from them. But until every part had found its purpose, he'd need to keep them fresh, usable. Alive.

A challenging task, for sure. He was more than willing to accept such a task, however. The fusing of metal and flesh, such a wonderfully interesting concept. To extend the time of the temporary, with the cold, hard exterior of eternity.

It's exciting, is it not? When the removal of his chosen parts was complete, he's quick to set it aside, iced and prepared for transplantation. Now comes the next phase of the procedure, he thinks to himself as he lifts his drill from the table.

----------------------------------

A lone mind sits in darkness.

It has not been able to see for some time now.

It can not count the days, nor nights.

Its mind screams to move, but its body lacks the strength, the will nor range to move from its confinements. So often it has tried to scream, but found no jaw to move. No tongue to form words.

Blind eyes weep tears of bronze down metal cheeks as it is pushed back into its container. It can sense this. The moving air over its numbed face one of the few senses it has been left with, if faded and distant.

It has stopped again.

Consciousness would soon cease again. It always did.

It is scared.

How much did he take this time.

How much will he take next?

Is it... Even a troll, anymore?

Will the next one be the last?

It doesn't know. It wants to leave. It wants to see again. It wants to feel grass upon its skin, rain upon its head.

The form lay strapped to a surgical table. It's body a mix of contorted flesh, carved away in places then wrapped in bandages. What wasn't wrapped was capped or welded shut with shiny grey metal, aside from its chest currently. The cavity pulled open and back to display what few organs remained like a frog on a lab student's table. Its most vitals long since having begun the pilfering and replacement process; ticking gears were a heart once beat, bloated sacks where its lungs once breathed. It's blood, once a vibrant bronze now diluted with artificial replacers, heavy in sedative drugs. Perhaps the only thing keeping the agony from this butchered existence at bay. What was likely a blessing at first now a curse as it longs for the feeling of anything at all, even pain, discomfort, something. It's thoughts have become lesser with each day of dismemberment. Its name lost, its identity, if it had one before, now lost in the wind. It remembers being called she once. But even that feels like an eternity ago, far from reach and lost in obscurity. It was only a matter of time before that too was taken.

It can feel itself slipping away again as it joins the others in storage. Back into unconsciousness. Back into the long dark before the repeat. Just like the times before, it's thoughts are few of words but consistent. A plea. A cry.

Kill... Me...

[brassandblue]

(CW: Mentions of... death, references to an amputated leg. Typical Cold Boys warnings.)

Bright, bright, so unendingly, bloody bright--!

Thomas moved to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun and realized he still had a physical body mobile enough to do so.

He groaned, a hollow mess of a man, a collection of bloodied rags, torn, dank leather, and wild hair. All of him ached, as if he’d been crushed under the Earth itself and reformed again; not refused by it, but drawn from the mouth of death and pulled back into a living shape.

With great effort he heaved himself onto his side, jabbed and discomforted by the jagged rocks and unforgiving terrain; then onto his stomach, flopped over as a pile of flesh and bones dressed in ragged clothes, adorned in a cloak of forks. It hurt like hell, but at least the sun no longer pierced his eyes as blinding cold fire.

LIke a newborn thrust unwillingly into proper life, he cried out, wept, unable to think beyond the barest of reason save to shade his eyes and to draw breath.

-

It took some doing, and he wasn’t sure how much time he spent, but Thomas managed to crawl to his discarded false leg, reattached it, and stood. Then, like a madman driven by some invisible compelling call, he walked, limped, scraped southward and east through the barren waste and biting cold. He felt the world itself pull him along and he would go as long as his weary old body could carry him. Thomas was a toddering and stinking mess of torn clothes and wind-whipped wild hair, teeth gritted against the climate as he forged on. He didn’t know what--or who--he would find, and it didn’t really matter.

At least not until he found it, days or weeks or who even knew how long later-- 

A camp. 

Starving, dehydrated, a loosely held together stench in rags, he nearly collapsed by the remains of a fire. He slid down to his knees with a primal shout of victory before he hit the ground.

[astrcthesiai-archived]

Before One Piece Starts Part 1

Mira: Captain of the Ravenqueen Pirates/Scholar -- An ex-slave to Jasper's biological family, Mira escaped with Jasper because of his family's cruelty. Jasper lost his leg due to infection, and Mira defended him from their pirate benefactors at sea. They worked as cabin boys until the rest of the crew planned a mutiny. Mira and Jasper escaped the chaos and landed on an island. They meet "Uncle", Mira's father's friend who lost contact with Prospero (Mira's father). There, Mira went to school again and learned Naginatajutsu. However, the peace did not last as Mira left to form her first crew. She treated this crew poorly and was mutinied against. While marooned at sea, Mira has hallucinations from the lack of hunger of all the dead. Crimson luckily comes upon Mira and nurses her back to health. Crimson promises her the ship if Mira saves her sisters...

Jasper: Mira's spymaster -- An ex-Celestial Dragon who deserted Mira's first crew for his own adventures. He meets an oppressed tribe who holds the Hebi Hebi no Mi: Model: Quetzalcoatl after he is shot in the arm with a poisoned arrow by the chief's daughter. He loses his arm and in order to win the devil fruit, he escorts the chief's daughter to one of the Revolutionary Army officers to detail paperwork for an alliance. After accomplishing this task and other tasks by the tribe he is rewarded the Hebi Hebi no Mi: Model: Quetzalcoatl. He checks in on the tribe from time to time, but they like making fun of his sad attempts at understanding their language.

Crimson: Mira's first mate --Been sailing around to find strong people in order to take on the Band of the Unseen to rescue her sister, Miyuki, or Number 222. She happens upon a starving and hallucinating Mira and nurses her back to health. Promises Mira the ship if she could help her take on the Band of the Unseen, a group of mercenaries that badly treated her sister and the other child soldiers... Crimson was sold to the Unseen by her own mother, Caroline. She found out her father is chief of one of the berserker tribes of Elbaaf, capable of taking on the Giants.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Back again because I've been getting more ideas.

If Delta managed to live through the attempt, this would obviously change him. You can't just be magically ok after attempting su*cide. How do you think they'd manage to live with themselves? Would they hurt themselves as maybe 'revenge' against themselves for hurting their friends? Would they blame themselves for their friend's pain? Or would Delta and Beta be too afraid to even speak to them and call on them because they're scared of being abandoned or hurt if they knew the full extent? How deep would the shame and pain go?

I'd imagine Delta and Beta, obviously not expecting to live, leaving the battlefield as fast as possible. Maybe they accidentally teleported into the apartment while Epic and Color were both there and all 4 of them had the most horrific jumpscare of their lives. Or maybe Delta and Beta rushed straight to a hospital because the physical pain was too much to bear. Or maybe one of the Stars had to call Color and Epic and ask for guidance with Delta and Beta because the two were in too much pain to move.

How would this all affect Color and Epic? Obviously they'd be heartbroken. But would they be angry with Delta and Beta for it? How would the healing path go for all of them?

(They would definitely bring Zorox to Delta and Beta while they're in the hospital though. And the two would probably start crying once they really realize all that they could have lost. Because even though they didn't feel loved or wanted, they still are - even if they didn't know or feel it, which only breaks Epic and Color's hearts (souls?) more.)

If anyone is likely to get mad at the two, I think it’d possibly be Color.

This is because, we all often see Color as a rather empathetic person, yes? Perhaps even hyper empathetic.

Feeling others emotions so deeply as if they were your own, on top of your own, can be a very good trait yes. But it’s also something that be incredibly draining and even traumatic in some cases. Certainly stressful, and chronic stress in and of itself is often traumatic, as well.

Color would be angry at himself, and he can feel that they are, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually finds himself stressed out, irritable, snappy. Often anxious and worried and so angry.

He’s either going to burn himself out and shutdown, or explode and meltdown—if he doesn’t recognize the building signs or chooses to ignore himself in favor of attending to Beta and Delta and Epic.

Color is pretty emotionally intelligent, perhaps he’d be able to catch himself and attempt to remove himself from the situation before he says something that isn’t true but he knows would hurt them.

But if Color isn’t, or keeps pushing himself because he thinks it doesn’t matter in comparison to what Delta and Beta are feeling, perhaps someone else notices.

Epic and Killer, obviously. Can see them noticing the way Color is short in his responses when talked to, his increased stimming, the way his spark seems dimmer, his uncharacteristic impatience and annoyance with the small things that never bothered him before.

It’s been days since he even so much as looked at his cameras let alone touched them, and he spends most days at the hospital with Delta and Beta.

How often he’s crying now.

And so of course Epic and Killer share a look one day when Color snaps something unusually angry and harsh at Delta, and decide to intervene.

Epic will handle things at the hospital, he will watch after Delta and Beta—(suicide watch likely.)

And Killer will take care of Color, make sure he takes a break and allows himself to breakdown if that’s what he needs, and actually stop and process what happened and what’s happening. Killer takes care of things like chores, coaxing Color to engage in his special interests and comfort foods if Color has the energy, and of course doing things like helping him bathe, eat, drink, get dressed, brush his teeth.

He does things like give Color messages if Color’s going through particular pain flare ups, or is just too exhausted to even move.

And Killer finds a way to get into contact with Cross. To not only help Killer take care of Zorox, but to take care of Epic. Because lord knows that man will not ask for any help if he needs and will pretend everything is fine if everyone allows him too, and Killer knows that Epic wouldn’t even reach out to Cross for himself.

Killer himself may not be very affected by much of this, at least not while in Stage 2–perhaps mostly just due to the involvement of Nightmare and how it’s effecting Color. He will take care of Color and Zorox, and he will make sure Color’s friends are taken care of because Color cares about them—and Killer does not want Color to suffer.

All of this will probably make Delta and Beta feel even worse about themselves, admittedly. They feel guilty, ashamed. Maybe they’re even bothered by the fact that their “honorable death” fighting Nightmare plan failed.

Perhaps this is something Cross and/or XChara may be able to help them with. Obviously a therapist will likely be suggested at some point, any sharp or dangerous objects removed from the immediate area. And I can see something like Delta/Beta waking up from a nightmare to Zorox curled up on one side, and Epic on the other, as a common occurrence.

Perhaps during these moments Cross and Delta talk late. A somewhat removed party for Delta to perhaps feel more comfortable talking about it all with, as opposed to the emotions talking to Epic and Color about it brings up.

Hm..I’m sure if they’re seriously injured that they can’t even move, then physical therapy might be something they’d need. Any disability or mobility aids if they lost a limb/limbs in the fight or had to have them removed.

I’m sure that’ll bring up old fears about being weak and useless (especially if its their hands, what the hell is a mechanic if they can’t even use their hands?). And it’d definitely bring up fears about their future. Are they going to be forced to rely on others for basic things for the rest of their lives? Will Delta never be able to build or tinker with anything again?

What about protecting the Multiverse? Will he never be able to do that again. Is this how hes forced to retire.

Who could possibly want them now. Whats the point of going on if theres nothing waiting for them.

[lingeringmirth]

no matter what

Stranger Things | Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington | Rating: T | Words: 300 | Angst, Eddie Munson Lives, Amputee Eddie, Pain.

Written for @whumpril day 8. alternate prompt 1. crutch. | Also here on AO3.

CW: Mentions of an amputated leg.

-

Eddie woke up already groaning and, for a moment, feeling like it might have been better if he’d not woken up at all, even if that would have meant that the nebulous them had won.

He closed his eyes as he lay there, taking a series of deep, calming breaths. The pain didn’t really settle much.

He’d known that he’d overdone it yesterday, but it had been a good one and the kids had been so rowdy, like the teenagers they deserved to be, so Eddie hadn’t rested enough. He hadn’t thought that he’d used his crutches too much, getting a prosthetic fitted was still a far-away dream as his stump healed, but apparently he had.

He groaned some more.

There wasn’t anywhere he’d need to be today, but he knew that everyone, especially Dustin, would worry if they couldn’t reach him. He shifted carefully and thankfully saw his radio on his night-stand, a glorified whiskey crate. The kids had pooled their money together and gotten him one as a “congratulations on surviving the Upside Down” gift. 

Next item to find were his pain meds.

…which weren’t on his nightstand, of-fucking-course. He groaned again, a mix of frustration and pain. He settled a bit and listened to his body, his overworked muscles and the dull ache of his stump. Could he manage without the pain-killers? Maybe. Did he need to try? Ye--- no. He was allowed to be without pain, that’s what the meds were for. He’d helped save the world, dammit, save fucking Hawkins, where he was still stuck in.

He cursed and reached for the radio and radioed the one person who he knew would always answer, always help, no matter what.

‘Steve?’

‘Already coming.’

Eddie smiled and settled to wait, there were still good things in Hawkins.

[star-critter]

Bit of a graphic headcanon

CW//Mentions of amputation and infection

I'm working on my Mimic design at the moment, and I've come to decide I should draw scars all over his torso but not many on his limbs or tentacles. I'd imagine Mimic would rather not spend time treating his wounds and only do so if it could actually cause some serious damage. If he gets an intense wound on one of his limbs or tentacles, he'll likely cut it off before it gets infected. Since he's an octopus, he can regrow limbs.

[habitual-creatures]

Awww boo… here I am with my leg tourniquetted for nothing!/j

But no HABIT, how would anyone possibly be ready for an impromptu amputation lol

YOU'D BE SURPRISED.

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

[townofcadence]

Cutting him open would be exciting. An elating scientific pursuit. What a perfect image. His wings removed. Artair dissected, and all his organs taken out for study. I could see how well he survives without them and how he heals. Maybe I can discover just how much of him is no longer human.

(Artair)

Secret Thoughts About My Muse

"Hm."

[pestilight]

     The hero will not make it.

     Rauru pours every scintilla of light he has left into those grievous wounds. He presses it all into the wrist he's yet to let go of since that fateful clasp, a wellspring funnelled through the anchoring point of their contact. So tremendous an effort is it that another piece of his arm crumbles, quicker to decay without the blessing of Zonai blood nor heart nor stone, peeling off and fading into nothing within strands of dispelled radiance.

     Still, it is not enough.

     The right arm is beyond salvaging. The Gloom: a loathsome force merely kept at bay with his light's slower abrasion. With what it has devoured, devours, and seeks to continue devouring as its master recovers his strength, the hero — Link, a faint voice chimes, sweet with conviction and love for her swordsman — will not make it.

     What an enormously cataclysmic thing to reckon with.

     Somewhere in the far distance, what sounds startlingly like the time bell knells a solemn rhythm. His spirit cannot cast shadows, but it paints a seafoam glow over Link as Rauru looms over his body — hand clutching ever tighter, as though his hold alone could pierce past the trappings of mortal flesh and erase every sliver of rot in one fell swoop. He reaches for the Gloom again, tendrils of incanted light enveloping the source in a shimmering embrace, and once more, his magic does not purge as cleanly as he wants it to. Once more, another fragment of his remains falls away.

     This is foolish, a part of him thinks; the part mired in memories of wanton bloodshed, of surviving at whatever the cost, of a time before a tempering kindness. Foolish, and needlessly cruel. He has seen damage of this severity wrought before — has treated it before.

     At his core, he knows what must be done. His hesitation, in the face of that, is not a mercy: it is another moment suspended between life and death, another opportunity for the Gloom to spread, another tally against the odds of what would now be a miracle.

     Another failing.

     Rauru does not need to breathe, yet he nevertheless finds himself going through its invisible motions. It calms him, marginally, and his mind clears enough for the thought to turn constructive. Yes, he knows what must be done. The question now is: what is he to do with the repercussions?

     —What repercussions? Another part of him thinks; the one locked in shame, drowning in regret, fraying with the need to pen this story to its very end.

     The flow of his light stills.

     It resumes a split second later, surging forth to continue hindering the creep of darkness, but his grip loosens. His fingers, slowly, unwind.

     What repercussions, the thought continues, when it is only the right arm that has to be dealt with? A right arm that has to be accounted for?

     A right arm that he, blessedly, still possesses?

     Link's chances of survival do not seem so slight, now.

     ( Rauru's chances of atoning do not seem so elusive, now. )

     It is a simple thing, grasping that ruined hand. Honing his light to burn through everything — skin, sinew, blood, marrow — is, too, effortless with how densely the corrosion is seeped into the flesh. The Gloom lingers, harder to contain for a moment with no corporeal bearer, but that will soon be remedied.

     Link's fingers are the last ashes to be swept away. From there, it is just a matter of connecting.

     Rauru does not say the words as he threads their vitalities together. Vows like these have always been a show of devotion more than anything, anyway. When this arm is all he can hope to offer to Link — to Zelda, to Mineru, to Sonia, to Hyrule, to everyone and everything he's loved and lost — what could possibly indicate his devotion more?

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: A human interpretation of the Hollow Knight, the titular character of the game of the same name. They have very pale scarred skin, long white hair in a ponytail, black and orange eyes, and a missing left arm. They are wearing a grey tank top, green lounge pants, and a silver hair clip shaped like the horns their original appearance has. They appear to be looking into a bathroom mirror that is out of frame, presumably mounted over a bathroom sink that they are standing in front of. They have a finger up to their mouth and are examining the strangely empty space inside, as their tongue has been mostly removed. The background is the pale blue bathroom wall, an open wooden door, and a view into the hallway with a beige wall and green fluffy carpet. End ID.]

-----

Hello and welcome to How To Make The Asshole Responsible For Mostly Everything In Canon Somehow Even Worse In Your AU 101! (: Step right up, it's gonna be a long-un.

So yeah, I still don't have all the details hammered out quite yet, but I do have significant points roughly accounted for. Even after they've been out from under his metaphorical wing for like four or five years, PK has of course still left considerable marks on all his kids. In this human AU, PK (who I'm tentatively calling Paul King until I find something that's not so perfectly fitting even if it's a bit bland for a character like him) is a fairly influential religious leader whose faith involved some principles akin to the quiverful movement, along with strict control over his progeny and a belief that children--or at least his children--only serve as accessories to their parents and something to be seen and not heard. This led to a lot of neglect for the kids under King's roof, thankfully only three full-timers this time instead of the likely hundreds of thousands just due to the differences of how mammal reproduction works compared to insects (or wyrm + tree I guess lol), and that neglect led to a Lot of Crap.

In fact, only two of the things that happened to any of the three kids were the result of direct action on King's part, and sadly both of those things happened to Hollow. One was the event that was the catalyst for getting the kids out (again I'm still trying to nail this down, but it does end in the house blowing up), and the other (: was the one time (: Hollow had the courage (: to talk back (: and King decided (: to make sure that never happened again (: and the man has medical training (: he was a doctor at one point (: so the glossectomy was professionally done by him personally (': ('': (''':

Anyway, yeah, that little detail is part of how I'm carrying over the "no voice to cry suffering" part of the Vessels, though in AU Hollow's case it's less "no voice to cry suffering" and more "no tongue to give that voice clarity and also they basically just stop trying shortly after". The other two don't vocalize for different reasons, Ghost is just the bog-standard neurodivergent flavor of nonverbal for the most part (they could probably speak if they tried under the right circumstances, they just don't), and BV's silence is due to neurological damage as they had a seizure that affected a nerve controlling speech, and that combined with them falling down the stairs shortly after certainly didn't do them any favors. ...though the black sclera for all three, that's another thing entirely, let's just say that their old house was similarly close to the source of a certain substance like the White Palace is in the game... As to why Hornet's not physically affected by any of this? Her mom's alive in this AU, obvs she lived with her. And even though she visited as per custody agreement, and also her wanting to be with her half-siblings to give them some actual human contact that wasn't just the bare minimum to keep them alive, if anything had happened to Hornet while in that house Herrah woulda gotten more than a little aggro (: Thankfully the siblings are in a much better living situation now!

.......also since voidy stuff is in this AU and they've got some and they can do this:

[Image Description: The same image as above, cropped to Hollow's face. Four black tendrils have been added coming out of their mouth, with black handwriting reading "void tendrils" and an arrow pointing to the addition.]

Yup. At least eating's not as hard for them as it seems to be for most actual willing glossectomy patients??? ^^;

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

The Hollow Knight and other Hollow Knight concepts © Team Cherry Human AU design and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[fistful-of-rage]

ask games are where people come into your asks, ask you questions on the thing, and you answer. you get a bunch of different types with all different themes. sometimes the questions get super personal

i’ll ask you “Have you ever broken a bone? Have you ever had surgery?”

>@ferrunough

\\don’t you worry about it! You’re getting a place here, I’m enjoying it. Lay off if you want to, I’m not gonna make you, but in my books you’re grand!

ah ok, ty. i’ll keep an eye out for others.

broken bones. probably only my finger before i lost it. it was physically impossible for the bones to be intact at that point. that injury came with surgery as well

[luckynatured]

Okay, so you know how Get Hit’s Hydreigon is a lower level in BW2 than it is in BW? 

I’ve heard a fair number of takes on this, but here’s mine:

((ADDED SIDENOTE: Nobody has to adhere to this headcanon! As of writing this post, I’m in the middle of writing the Ghetsis fight in the fic chronicling Hilbert’s journey, and it’s just something I thought of as I connected some dots!))

Hydreigon lost one of its arm/heads in the battle against Hilbert, which takes away a little bit of its fighting power. The Life Orb it holds and the fact that its moveset is physical in BW2 could be a way of attempting to make up for that loss: with how long it would take Ghetsis to raise another Deino to full evolution, replacing Hydreigon would be more trouble than it was worth for Ghetsis.

As for how Hydreigon lost that arm?

It could be argued that he had the misfortune to face Michelle in that battle. 

Michelle, whose mother was an unusual Samurott who once encouraged her to use whatever trick she had if it meant protecting what was precious to her.

Both Pokemon were evenly matched, but Hydreigon was faster. Dragon Pulse took out most of her stamina, she could not take another one without going down. 

It didn’t take long for her to decide that if she was going to go down, she would do everything she could to fuck Hydreigon up and spite Ghetsis in one go. Her main motivation was to protect Hilbert at all costs, but any sense of honor had gone out the window at that point - right now, her actions were dictated by a desire for revenge.

So she used Aqua Jet to get close to Hydreigon. The Dragon-type was caught off-guard by the move, with created the perfect opening for Michelle to tackle the dragon to the ground and bite as hard as she could onto his shoulder (where Hydreigon’s arm met the rest of its body). It was only when she tasted blood that she grabbed a seamitar and swung. 

She didn’t stop until Ghetsis had to return Hydreigon to his PokeBall, but she had accomplished her goal by that time. Hydreigon’s arm could still be flopping onto the floor beneath her, the head giving out a pathetic wail before it stopped moving for good. 

She honestly hadn’t expected to survive, so she went all-out.

[strato-viper-raven-blog]

I wanna see Older Wayne Brothers as Secret playable pilots in Battle Garegga 2, I want see the brothers they piloting a new unique Garegga planes (or maybe Bakraid planes) and What design and gameplay would be?

I like to think they would pilot their old planes. Although if they did pilot new planes I'd like to make the Golden Bat variant Jason's default plane and put a plane inspired by Black Heart.

As for Brian and Jason I'd wanna have them be middle aged pilots with some gray in their hair who are world weary but will fight to protect the civilians from invading tyrants.

I did have a headcanon that Jason would have lost an arm and a leg and replaced them with Dieselpunk style prosthetics that he's always tinkering with in order to make them better. So I'd like to think if Jason is a secret character in a hypothetical Battle Garegga 2 he'd have some artifical limbs.

[a-muscle-the-size-of-your-fist]

[ @lovely-cadavers || Continued From Here || Jack ]

[ Ethan ]

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Ethan sighed through his nose after a moment. Jack's tone told him he was probably being too harsh, but he'd been increasingly frustrated all day. He supposed they all had, but Jack had made a special exception for coddling him.

While he'd never done farmwork a day in his life, he didn't think he was half bad at most things involved. He could use a hammer, he'd been alright helping with catching the goat, and he'd milked the cow after a few unsuccessful attempts. But Jack had been hovering all day, through every inconvenience, and Ethan was starting to feel like the older man thought he was utterly useless.

It wasn't like Ethan had ever been helpless. Even when he'd been fighting Jack when he'd been molded, Ethan had been able to hold his own. He was a skilled technician, a talented negotiator, and, above all things, not a helpless princess in need of constant pampering.

Okay, so the muggy heat of a Louisiana summer had put a damper on his breathing. He'd been more winded than he'd liked after catching the goat (he'd jumped on it, a lucky pounce), and Jack had instantly fussed over him. It made him feel incompetent even when he'd just done the one thing the family hadn't been able to do (through fortunate luck, but it was still done).

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Ethan grunted in frustration as he finally peered over at Jack. His missing fingers didn't hide his left eye, and he separated his right ones to peek at him over the low window into the kitchen.

“I… I know,” Stammering with a little stagger, Ethan decided to simply lean on the counter on his side of the separation to avoid collapsing. Maybe he was a little worse for wear, “…Look, I'm okay.” Maybe he was still winded, and he felt a little dizzy. That had been hours ago, though. “I… With you worrying about me all the time it just…”

Makes me feel weak.

“After everything I've been through, a little hard work isn't going to kill me.” Offering up a little, wry smile, he pushed off the counter. Rounding the doorway and entering the kitchen proper, Ethan slid up behind Jack and wrapped his arms around his middle. Resting his cheek against the other man's spine over his shirt, he breathed a soft sigh.

Okay, maybe Jack could fuss over him a little bit.

“I know you're worried because you care,” Ethan mumbled, Jack's words and tone still playing over and over in his head. Jack was stressed over him and stressed over being stressed over him, and that last one he could only blame on himself, “But I promise I'm not gonna break just because I have to do some physical activity. Sure, I'm sore, but it's nothing I haven't been through before.”

Helping with clearing the debris from the roof caving in did mess with his left hand enough to make a significant problem for him over lunch, though. The phantom pain had returned, but he didn't think that Jack had seen that. Maybe he did when Ethan was hunched over in a stall in the barn, rubbing the places where his fingers had been before with tears pricking his eyes.

“…I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to…” Burying his face in the other's back, Ethan huffed, trying to hold back a sudden need to cry. When had he gotten so emotional over this? Was it the fact that he didn't feel like he was worth the care Jack was showing him? Or was it that he was so thankful he couldn't help but cry? Why were his emotions all over the place today?

He just hoped Jack didn't notice the dampness of his shirt from back here.

[pokemonranchlife]

Mirio: Oh boy, I got a couple stories here. Let's see worst from a domestic would have to be back when I was rookie ranger, we got called in to help clear a Pokèmon hoarding situation, Cap wanted me to get hands on experience and figured it'd be a routine case.

Mirio: Turns out the old man was hoarding dark types. Took a nasty strike to the chest. Could see my ribs through the wound. Doc said I was lucky the Weavile's claws didn't pierce an organ. That's also why rookie and regular ranger uniforms have chest padding now. Still have a heck of a scar.

Mirio: The worst from a wild, Let's see that would probably be the Haxorus that chopped my leg off. I'm not sure if that still counts as domestic though. The poor girl was released into a habitat she wasn't native to and was scared half to death, poor thing had no idea how to survive in the wild, she was born in captivity. Turns out the poor kid was pressured into releasing his Pokémon by team plasma. I tracked the poor mon down and well...I don't necessarily remember exactly what happened but I woke up in the hospital pretty banged up and missing a leg. Also we did get the Haxorus back to her trainer along with his other mons.

Mirio: For truly wild, some teens chased a Numel trying to catch it. The poor thing was a baby. Turns out mama Camurept are very protective of their young so yeah, the mama used eruption to scare the teens off while I was rounding them up and I got burned pretty bad

rotomblr: reblog with the worst injury you’ve ever gotten from a pokémon, wild or domestic

[kits-ships]

i want to say i don't have a bias between ione's ships but i cannot get over how fuckin quickly sanemi grew on me. i used to hate the guy !!! but i guess i am NOT immune to the 'angry person that's secretly a sweetheart gets slowly softened by sunshine character" trope. like come on. she gets her leg cut clean off because he threw herself in front of him. THEY HOLD HANDS AS SHE LAYS ON THE BATTLEFIELD, THEY HELD HANDS ON THE CARRIAGE RIDE TO THE BUTTERFLY ESTATE, AND THEY HOLD HANDS UNTIL THEY HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO BE SEPARATED!!! ahh!!! then when he recovers he visits her every day because he wants to check on her and is the first person to speak to her after she wakes up six weeks later!!! and he brings her a cute little hair bow that she starts wearing daily AND shares the fruit he bought her with him..... he even brings one of his beetles for her to meet :( how can i have this much lore and not absolutely melt over them