#amputation story

[dino-boyo-agere]

First of: TW!!

╰→ mention & vivid description of severe injury

╰→ use of uncensored swearwords! (f*ck & s*it)

╰→ but no graphic pictures in this post!

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

So on July 14 of 2020 I lost my left middle finger by trying to fetch a ball from my pal's dog he threw over a fence the day before.

Here is the full story:

It was raining and half way over the fence I decided to ditch the idea, since the fence was fairly slippery and I 'didn't want to get hurt' lmao.

So, on my way back down I obviously slipped, my ring got caught on the fence and degloved my left middle finger.

I felt a hard tug, no pain at first, tho I had a feeling what just happened... My first thought was: "Do I look at my hand or do I just go home?" Obviously, I looked down and "fuck." was the first thing I said.

I grabbed the bone and remaining flesh with my unharmed hand, to stop the bleeding and looked at my friend (the one with the dog).

I calmly told him: "[Name], don't panic but my finger is gone, call an ambulance. I will lay down on the ground now, okay?" At first he thought I was fucking with him and didn't believe me. Because I stayed strangely calm since he has severe panic attacks and I didn't want him to get one in this situation, since that would be anything but beneficial for the both of us. He only realized I was for real, when he saw red liquid dripping out my hand.

My friend hastily rung all the doorbells of the Apartment building across the street, to ask someone to call an ambulance. (I didn't have my phone on me he had his phone, but forgot that you can call emergency numbers even without mobile credit.)

At one point a guy rode past us on his bike, my friend tried to flag him down, yelling something along the lines of: "Hey, could you please call an ambulance? He (gesturing at me, lying on the ground, bleeding) lost- had an accident." And I'll never forget this mans answer, after throwing one glance at me, in a cheery sing-sang voice he just said: "Noo, I don't have time, sorryy.~" while riding of with the brightest smile. That is still the funniest thing to me lmao. That guy had a great day and was not willing to care for anything or anyone else. Honestly.. Good for him!

Anyways, back to the ambulance-calling problem..

My friend managed to get an old lady to step out on the balcony, where she could see me and she called an ambulance right away.. Well she actually got a little confused and called the police, but they informed the hospital to send an ambulance.

Another lady also approached me to just be there for me, I think. She just rubbed my back and tried to comfort me, which was really sweet. Especially seeing she was the one crying, overwhelmed by the situation. She also shielded me from the rain by covering me with her umbrella. I hope shes okay, she was an absolut Sweetheart.

I was lucky (I guess?) since a woman, who lived across the street I was laying on, saw me through the window and came to check out what happened. And wouldn't you know, she was a nurse! She introduced herself to me as such, stating: "Hey, I saw you through my window, are you okay? I might be able to help. I'm a nurse and brought my first aid kit, what happened?" So I detailed the incident to her and showed her my injury. Upon seeing my mangled hand she let out an audible gasp and a whispered: "oh, fuck." At which I couldn't help but laugh, saying: " 'oh, fuck'? As a nurse? It's that bad, huh?". She apologized and tried to back paddle a bit, I think she was trying to not freak me out to much, saying something along the lines of: "No, it's just- I just didn't expect that." To which I replied: "Well, to be fair, I  basically had the same reaction, so it's alright." The kind nurse bandaged me up and waited for the ambulance with us.

At that point the pain was pretty bad but not to much to handle. I mainly focused on my friend, constantly telling him to: "Stay calm and breathe!" since "I can't bleed out, so it's alright."

The ambulance (and police) arrived about 15 minutes after the call (they normally would've been there faster but we had a lot of road work in the area at the time). The officers tried to figure out what happened and kept asking weird questions like: "Did your friend pull you down?", "Did the dog eat the finger?" and "Did the dog pull you down?" Etc.. They also 'searched?' for my finger (they basically just looked in and around the bush where it happened from a distance for like thirty seconds lmao) and said they couldn't find it, so no finger saving for me. The EMT's knocked me out with some seriously good shit and drove me to the hospital. At that point the shock settled, I went in and out of consciousness. At the ER they gave me local anesthesia by shoving a needle in my mangled finger and shooting some thick liquid in there... THAT was the most pain I ever felt in my life so far. But right away, just milliseconds after, no pain at all.

In this moment I actually got to look at it in depth for the first time. It looked gnarly. Most of my skin and flesh was gone but the two bigger bones (wich where astonishingly bright white) of the finger, as well as the main tendon, where still intact. I could actually move my fucking bone-finger!! So I did just that, opening and closing my hand in awe, observing how exactly 'the strings work'. It was fascinating! 

They also took some pictures and I managed to message the clinic for the photos of the degloved finger because... YES. You can find the link to those photos at the end of this post. ! Be warned tho, it's literally med. gore !

They gave me another local anesthetic, for the operation, this time numbing the whole arm. They couldn't put me under since I've already eaten that day.

Even though my finger couldn't be 'saved' since they 'couldn't find it'. I found the ring three days after the incident tho so that's cool, I guess.

I asked if I was allowed to 'keep' the bones they removed but the doctor said: "That's not allowed, since it's a bio hazard." (stupid German laws).

They send me home the next day and I got a cute little tattoo after everything healed up nice. (A little pair of scissors on a dashed line, because I'm funny like that.)

When I got home I picked up my dog from my friends apartment (yes, the same friend) and the first thing I said to him was "pew pew" while doing the Spider-Man 'web shooting gesture' with my hand.

I don't really have many long lasting difficulties in regards to the missing finger except for occasional phantom pain or the even worse phantom itch. Both of which mainly occur when the weather switches.

I'm a pretty positive person, so I'm just thankful that it was only one finger and a unessential one, on my non-dominant hand at that.

All in all I'd give the situation a solid 7 /10.

Pos. (+)

The hospital food was good.

The staff was nice.

Neg. (-)

I'm still a little salty about not being able to take my own bones home.

I physically cringe every time I think about the incident. (Wich is annoying because I basically live next to the place it happened and have to see that darn fence daily.)

Indiff. (¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

The pain was bad, but manageable.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

And as promised → here ← are the (uncensored) pictures of my injury, if you're interested!

✧✧.✧✧ Sorry for any spelling / grammar errors ✧✧.✧✧

✧✧✧.✧✧✧ English is not my first language ✧✧✧.✧✧✧

.*･｡･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.↓DNI↓.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ｡･*.ﾟﾟ｡･｡･*.

･｡»･⁠°✧❗I don't consent to NSFW interaction❗✧°･«｡･

banner by @froggy-clubhouse

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[mj-iza-writer]

Warning: Forced self cannibalism and cannibalism. Wing mutilation and amputation.

Fresh blood trickled down Whumpee's back as they leaned weakly against a wall.

Moving hurt too much, even breathing felt like they were tearing their back apart more.

Their wings were the only thing Whumpee could think about.

The muscles that worked the wings sent shock waves of pain through Whumpee's back.

"It's like they're crying. They feel empty", Whumpee's breath hitched.

Their feathers scattered the floor around them. They had lost quite a few because of stress.... and nervous preening.

They shook as they reached for one of the feathers. Tears flooded their eyes as they cuddled it close.

Whumper carried a plate in and set it down by Whumpee.

"I thought you'd be hungry after losing that much blood", Whumper smirked, "just some leftovers from my dinner."

Whumpee side glanced the plate, "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on, they taste really good", Whumper chuckled, "I didn't do anything to them. Those are from my plate. They're fresh to. You need something to eat to regain your strength."

Whumpee cautiously reached for the plate and grabbed a small piece of meat.

"Is this chicken?", Whumpee smelt it before taking a bite.

"Well, kind of", Whumper smirked, "it is wings from a bird like creature."

Whumpee stopped mid chew, "what?", they squealed.

"Your wings are delicious, aren't they?", Whumper laughed.

"I'm going to throw up", Whumpee threw the food away from them and leaned forward to puke.

The movements caused their back to tear open the scab that formed on their back. More blood oozed down.

"Why? Why did you cut them off?", Whumpee yelled.

"I was tired of trimming your feathers, and you fighting me. Plus I was hungry", Whumper picked up the plate, "you eat these or I force feed you. Your choice, my hard work making these won't go to waste."

Whumpee looked at the plate, "I can't eat my own wings. Please, don't make me."

"You didn't even take care of them. Look at all the feathers everywhere. You pulled them off yourself", Whumper yelled, "eat."

"You did this. You did all of this", Whumpee yelled back.

Whumper slapped Whumpee before picking up another piece of the meat and forcing Whumpee's mouth open.

Whumpee sobbed as they were forced to eat their own body.

Blood loss was getting to Whumpee. They thought they saw Caretaker opening the door and running to them.

Everything was blurry.

What was being said? Everything sounded like echoes.

"Who's there?", Whumpee jumped suddenly, "please no more, I'll be good. Don't touch me."

"It's Caretaker. Shh, it's Caretaker", someone held down Whumpee's hands, "don't fight. We are here to save you."

"Car-Caretaker?", Whumpee whispered, "Caretaker... you're here for me?"

"Yes, you are safe now", Caretaker stopped and rubbed Whumpee's head to comfort them.

"M-my wings, they cut off my wings", Whumpee cried and tried to bury their head in Caretaker's body, "they cut them and ate them. They forced me to eat them."

Caretaker sat on the ground to comfort Whumpee. They saw some pieces of bone that had been tossed away. Feathers were everywhere... Whumpee's feathers.

"I'm sorry Whumpee. I am truly sorry", Caretaker frowned as their friend shook, "I wish I could have found you sooner."

Emergency responders worked around them.

"Where is Whumper?", Whumpee looked up fearfully.

"They are being arrested", Caretaker soothed, "you are safe now. I finally found you."

"Could you grab some of my feathers so I can keep them", Whumpee asked as they were loaded onto a gurney.

"Of course I can do that", Caretaker comforted, "these nice people are taking you to the hospital. I will be there soon to help you okay."

"Okay", Whumpee nodded, "please don't forget me."

"I won't Whumpee. I promise."

Caretaker gathered several feathers of different sizes and color patterns.

They were shown the leftovers of Whumpee's wings.

"This is a nightmare", Caretaker sighed as they patted the wings gently, "this person is sick minded. They will pay for this."

Caretaker quietly watched Whumpee sleep.

They had had a busy few hours as the doctors had to carefully take care of Whumpee. Anything done wrong to the avian's back could be disastrous, especially if the wings were able to grow back.

Whumpee winced as their eyes opened.

Their eyes darted around the room. Their field of view was limited due to not wanting to move.

"Caretaker?", Whumpee whispered.

"I'm right here", Caretaker quickly knelt beside them, "right here."

"What's going on?", Whumpee frowned.

"You just got out of surgery, you were under for a few hours. You are resting now", Caretaker knelt beside them, "do you have any pain?"

"Not right now", Whumpee frowned, "is it bad?"

"It's not great", Caretaker sighed, "but the doctor believes if your wings do grow back, you shouldn't have any problems."

"Even if they grow back, it will be years before I have them the way they were", Whumpee felt a tear form in their eye, "do you think they'll grow back?", Whumpee whispered.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. An avian having their wings cut at the base doesn't normally happen", Caretaker sighed, "whatever happens I will help you get through or try my best to help."

Caretaker looked down, "I am so sorry I didn't get to you sooner. You were so hard to find and I know that isn't a good excuse. I'm sorry."

Whumpee weakly held out their hand to Caretaker.

Caretaker gently held it.

"You tried your hardest. I appreciate you saving me", Whumpee smiled weakly.

"Here is, uh", Caretaker quickly wiped a tear away, "your feathers you requested, I hope the ones I grabbed are okay."

"Thankyou", Whumpee reached for a feather.

"The leftover parts of your wings and the rest of your feathers are being taken care of by the Avian Society. I didn't know what was best for your wings and feathers, I hope it's okay I trusted them to the leaders", Caretaker sighed.

"That's okay, they will probably destroy them", Whumpee frowned, "I'll receive the cremated remains."

"Are you okay with that?", Caretaker made a concerned look.

"That's normal, because of what we are, most of our bodies are cremated.... unless it's an honored person. Some avians believe those people are gods and follow them", Whumpee sadly rubbed their feather across their face, "we don't want the bodies of our people to be dug up and studied in years to come."

Caretaker nodded, "I guess that makes sense", Caretaker glanced at Whumpee's back, "you should get some more rest."

"I feel like I've been hit by a bus... do you think I can eat yet? My last meal was my wings, and I don't want that to be the only thing in my stomach."

"Let me ask your nurse, and I'll go get you something if they allow it", Caretaker stood.

Caretaker came back into Whumpee's room, but was startled to see a few winged people in Whumpee's room. They figured it was part of the Avain Council.

They all glanced at Caretaker.

"Sorry, I'll come back when you are...", Caretaker knew they weren't exactly welcomed, they put up with Caretaker because of Whumpee.

"Wait, you are Caretaker right. You saved Whumpee?", someone stepped closer.

"Y-yes sir, I was able to find them. I wish I could have found them sooner though", Caretaker frowned as they looked at Whumpee.

"Please come in, you're a hero for saving them. Please eat", another invited.

"Oh this is for Whumpee, they were hungry", Caretaker started to walk to the bed.

"Ah yes, thankyou for feeding them", they stepped back to allow room for Caretaker.

Caretaker knelt beside the bed, after a second of Whumpee struggling Caretaker started to help them eat.

"Thankyou", Whumpee smiled after swallowing a mouthful.

"You're welcome Whumpee. I'd do anything for you", Caretaker smiled.

"The council will leave now and allow you to eat and rest. Please let us know if you need anything. We will happily provide you with anything you need", they started to leave, "we will also return the remains of your wings to you when you return to your home."

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou for visiting me."

Caretaker sighed as they got up and sat down.

"I hope that was okay. I wasn't exactly sure what to say to them", Caretaker frowned, "I get nervous around them."

"You did good, I think they will be showing you a lot more respect after this", Whumpee smiled weakly, "I wish I had my wings to cover me up, I'm a little chilly."

"Though your wings are softer, I hope this will suffice", Caretaker pulled up a blanket and covered Whumpee.

"Yes thankyou, and thank...you", Whumpee yawned, "for the food."

"Your welcome Whumpee, get some rest. I won't leave you", Caretaker smiled as Whumpee's eyes slowly closed, "I promise."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems @lavndvrr @ivymyers @starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

[cyberwhumper]

Soft metal clinking against metal. The distant voices of people talking. The sun, oppressively bright, staring straight into half-lidded eyes. Cold air wafts into the room through the AC ducts, making body hairs stand on end. Machines whirr to life at precise intervals, undercut by the beeping of monitors. Cables of all sizes connect the animal to the instruments responsible for performing its basic functions, if only temporarily.

It seems the surgery had been a success despite the complications.

The brand-new optics sway slowly from side to side. Scanning the room. They can see on their screens exactly what the animal is seeing, big blurs of color amidst blinding white. Not unusual for the brain to take a bit to sync up and adapt to the new input. Even less so considering the damage it took and the amount of sedation the mutt is currently on. Chapped lips mouth at the tubes with not a coherent thought to express. It doesn't even make any noise.

The prototype arm lays on the table, partially disassembled. All sorts of cables connect to its ports as if they are bundles of artificial nerves and muscle tissue, responsible for making sure the signals from the brain get properly interpreted and responded to. All dutifully relayed from their corresponding origin points into the surgically implanted joint. The wound may not be properly healed yet, but considering the setbacks they've already had because of the complications, it seems unwise to wait even longer.

Well. Nothing that can't be fixed by upping the dosage of drugs on the animal's IVs, right?

Mal presses a finger to its skin. Watches as the hazy eyes flutter closed, then open again towards his general direction, unable to focus on anything. More pressure. Not much more of a response.

He sighs. Pulls a pen out of his pocket. Stabs it fast and quick into the restrained wrist. The pale fingers twitch in response. Move as though the animal was trying its best to reach for whatever hurt it through the fog of its brain.

And so do the fingers on the mechanical arm.

[OC INDEX]

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen // @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat // @burnticedlatte // @violent-ultraviolet // @limitlesstrash17 // @inspiral-rl // @coyotehusk // @mis-graves //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[shy-raccoon]

Whumpee will lose a limb but if they cooperate with whumper they will lose a less inconvenient one. If whumpee tells whumper everything they want during the interrogation than whumper will take a leg instead of a arm.

"There are plenty of jobs that require you to sit at a desk and only use your hands but not so many that only require the use of your legs."

"You don't want to spend the rest of your life begging on a street corner, Do you whumpee?"

[saturnniidae]

Watching tdp season6 and my god I adore Claudia with my whole heart. my evil autistic bisexual gf with abandonment issues...

[uniquezombiedestiny]

disease of the body, disease of the mind

[greenapplespider]

Blood in Moderation is long, arduous, a bit overly esoteric, has too many characters, and I write it like a spastic maniac jumping from one non-congruent scene to the next based off vibe. But, because it’s me, the story is dark and whumpy.

There’s a massive portion of two characters back stories (Jeffery and Romulus), that I’m iffy on whether to leave vaguely mentioned or to just delve into it hog wild.

Here’s the whump scenario, between these two. Also, I write my notes like little stories.

—

After being turned into blood-suckers by, Adrien. Our newly minted mutants are imprisoned and experimented on for years until a moment of chance occurs and Romulus is able to escape his cell. Hastily, he looked for his friends but is only able to find Jeffery, before they are beset upon by the guards.

Despite having his magic bound, Jeffery powered through- with the assistance of some blood magic- and is able to narrowly teleport the both of them away, but with great harm done to himself.

Jeffery and Romulus eventually make their way to one of their old bases, a seldom used old-world bunker, a weeks walk from Torch City and in the middle of an old-growth forest.

The two intend to regroup and rescue their friends but being a blood-sucker is a difficult thing. You don’t think right, everything seems to be teetering on a knife’s edge of insanity, all your instincts are new and intense. Denying even one intrusive thought is an monumental task; paired with the unending urge to eat and fuck and nest and rip and tear and-

Higher thought can be an even more difficult thing for a fledgling, especially when half starved on animal blood and under-stimulated.

Months turned into year and years into decades, time a meaningless swirl only disrupted by occasionally tearing each other apart.

In the midst of it all, Jeffery slowly started coming back to himself, sooner then Romulus. Being beat half to death, during another fight, was a final straw for him, regardless of how regretful Romulus seemed. Jeffery decided it was probably best for the two of them to part ways.

Romulus, still rather insane, took issue with this. Jeffery was, quite literally, the only thing he had left and he would rather kill himself then be alone, at this point. There was a part of him that knew it was fucked, that Jeffery was right and that they couldn’t keep living like this. But the animal part drowned out any reason to be had.

They fought, Jeffery still recovering from their last bout, was easily over powered. Romulus locked him deep inside the bunker, within one of the magic retardant rooms, forcing the old magic restraints on him, and chaining him to the wall.

Weeks passed before he’d come down from it enough to realize the line he’d crossed. But it was too late, he couldn’t undo what he’d done; the guilt was gnawing and not something he wanted to think about. So Romulus didn’t.

It was years before the part of him- he wouldn’t call it human as he was anything but at this point; but it was the part of him that was more then just the debased animal he’d become- had matured enough to be sobered by his actions.

Romulus finally forced himself to unlock the door he’d pointedly avoided for who knows how long. He didn’t realize how much he hated himself until then. How much of a pathetic coward he’d become.

Looking at the still, emaciated, figure lying on its back, covered in old and crusted blood. Claw marks littered the walls and door, it seems at some point Jeffery had gnawed off his own hands and feet, to slip the cuffs; enough time having past that the limbs had even regrown.

He looked like a monster. Pale, hairless, elongated arms, widened mouth, with clawed hands and no genitalia to speak of. The creature, once deathly still, was on him snapping its jaws before it chirped and began smelling him, burying its face in the crook of his neck. Romulus could feel a slight nibble break the skin, the creature taking only a taste before chirping again and moving off him. Gangly limps moving clumsily, quickness and grace gone once it was clear there was no food to be had. The creature laid back down and began staring at the ceiling again.

Romulus sat up in the doorway. That was his friend. He’d done this to his friend.

So he started to feed him, feed him as much and as often as he could. Forgoing food himself most days just to make sure Jeffery had his fill. Animal blood wasn’t enough, Romulus knew what was needed but he didn’t want to risk leaving his friend unattended. So he hunted as much as he could and grew skinnier and skinner.

Jeffery began filling back out, his hair started growing in, covering his head and lower torso in a red peach fuzz. He almost found it cute. It didn’t help how happy Jeffery was whenever he brought him food, chirping excitedly when he’d arrived. Sometimes nipping at him, as though to convince him eat. Sometimes Romulus did and it broke his heart at how delighted it made the other.

The healthier Jeffery became the more physical he wanted to be, always trying to touch him. Burry his face in his neck, nipping at him, and even other things; guiltily, Romulus let him.

Eventually, Jeffery seemed, physically, more or less recovered but his mind was still elsewhere. Completely animalistic, but sometimes he’d wake from a nightmare and for a moment the look in his eyes made Romulus nauseous.

Romulus decided, then, if Jeffery was ever able to regain himself he would let the other man kill him. Do whatever he wanted with him- it would be his right.

—

Physical attributes of feral blood suckers:

Emaciated figure

Hair falls out

Enlarged mouth and sharpened teeth

Elongated arms with clawed hands

Both sets of genitalia shrivel up and recess into the body

Does not appear able to urinate or defecate 

Stronger then average human but weaker then a well fed blood sucker

Extremely slow healing but undeterred by injuries

Mages turned feral are able to perform the most base spells at their disposal

Reacts only to outside stimulation

Enters torpor without stimulation

Incapable of speech or high order thinking (completely animalistic)

Driven purely by the need for food

With proper food and close proximity to nest mates for a prolonged period, there is a chance of regaining one’s faculties and human form

[triptychofvoids]

Oooo also you got any medical history-related or maybe human body-related funfacts, doc? (i mean maybe not exactly "fun", but you get what i mean)

i would be happy to sit her and talk medical and physiology trivia all day! but im not sure how much of it you would actually find fun or interesting.

that being said, a few of my favorite 'fun facts' are that the hardest substance in the body is tooth enamel (as hard as steel, but brittle), the idea that different areas of your tongue are more sensitive to different flavors is actually incorrect, your body holds about 5.6 liters of blood (thats about 1.5 gallons), 95% of your blood is produced in your bone marrow (and yes, bones are organs made of living tissue! im often surprised how many people are not aware of this), and the longest type of cells in the human body are neurons, the longest of which is about 1 meter!

as for medical history, i would be remise if i did not mention my favorite amputation story of all time! if youre familiar with robert liston youll know what i am about to say. he was a skilled surgeon that lived from the years 1794 to 1847, and before anesthetics became common practice he was well known for his ability to perform surgeries at an extremely fast rate to avoid shock and blood loss. one of his most famous operations was an amputation performed in under three minutes, resulting in a witness dying from shock, his assistant dying from infection after getting his fingers cut off in the process, and the patient themselves later dying from infection as well! this operation is said to be the only one with a 300% mortality rate. the actual validity of this story is dubious at best, but its one of my favorites regardless!

[onlythegoodpretzels]

Blood Duty

Kotallo this time! With a fic and a WIP of art!

This is for Whumptober 2024's prompt surgery!

On AO3: Blood Duty (3447 words) by OnlytheGoodPretzels Chapters: 2/2 A marshal under a knife is always dangerous, no matter how much he understands. Dekka will take him through it.

(I could not finish this illustration for today, ohmygod Tenakth tattoos.)

Or, if you like, read it under the cut:

Dread climbed Dekka’s armor when she saw the mismash of paint colors shambling up the path. Lowland and Sky together, squadless, was never a good sign. Neither were any Tenakth moving so slow.

A runner split off, pelting to the Grove’s palisades. “Chaplain! Treason!”

His white-rimmed eyes were enough for her to vault down to him, catch his arm. He was young, Sky Clan. Curse Tekkoteh for sending dregs! “Steady, soldier. What ---?”

He lurched out of her grip, waving wildly backward. “Regalla, at the Embassy! M-Marshal Kotallo!”

Shit.

Dekka hadn’t registered the white between the two lowland warriors. Kotallo’s lines bent wrong and crooked. He couldn’t be walking. “Report inside.” She pushed the warrior up the stairs, already running. “Chief’s guard, with me!” Please, if they carried him this far, let him be alive.

Fury flew in Dekka’s hands. Regalla, always sure there hadn’t been enough blood!

Ten above, Kotallo was walking. Or he was hobbling, arm wrapped wrestle-tight around a warrior’s shoulders. The other Tenakth huddled close around him, but didn’t touch his left side. Dried blood smudges covered him from chin to leg, garish and dark in the lush lowland green.

Kotallo’s eyes were barely a clenched line in his face. Sweat canyons carved through his paint. Every muscle stood separate in his neck.

And he clutched his left arm tight to his side, and wrap sheds around it were blood-black.

Shit shit shit.

“He needs a medic!” the warrior holding Kotallo gasped as Dekka reached them. “We-we did what we could, Chaplain, but I’m not sure --”

“R-Regalla -- Aghhhh!” Kotallo fought his eyes open, his growl gutted and hoarse. Hate made his skin look like stone. “D-declared war. We --- the Carja -- dea -- aaagh…” Dull choked gasps cut him off and his legs trembled, forcing him to hold tighter. The third time he tried for breath a dull cracked cry shredded out instead.

But it was his arm that commanded Dekka’s attention. He dug it tighter to his ribs, crusted blood glistening against his marks. The angle of it…the rolling twitch it dragged along his jaw, mouth open in a silent retching quiver…his hand was gone.

And though he looked toward her, Kotallo’s eyes never focused.

Dekka blocked out the rest of the conversations. The chief guard commander could handle the rest, but not this. They might still lose a marshal yet. “Quiet, soldier.”

Kotallo squinted, weaving dangerously, trying to find her. She came to his side and reached in slow to press her thumb to his headdress. Just as she had years ago setting his first marshal mark. “Your chief will take his report when he’s ready.”

Even that little force tipped him.

But Kotallo winced, swallowing raggedly. “D-Dekka…”

“Yes.” Dekka grit her teeth, feeling his gasps rattle on her fingers. Were the others she’d marked gone? She couldn’t worry about them now. “You made it. Regalla didn’t strike here.”

Kotallo snarled, low and choked. The rawness of it twisted in Dekka’s feathers, anger clenching her arms until the fronds hissed. Regalla thought sending pain like this to their doorstep would frighten them. What it would do was sing vengeance, like the fury burning in Dekka’s hands now at the thought of Kotallo limping all this way.

“Ch-chief?” Kotallo twitched, grimace carving deeper. Trying to straighten up, the idiot. 

Dekka pressed knuckles to his breastplate. “Safe. Hold Still.” The force of his shaking ached in her wrist.

Orders still worked, thank the Ten. Kotallo stilled, eyes open but darting. “G-good…good.” He must know she was there, though, because he let the chief’s guard heave him onto the stretcher when it came. Kotallo howled but he didn’t attack anyone. That was the best they would get today.

Dekka waited just long enough to be sure he was down. She had to speak to Hekarro, now.

______________________________________________________________

The shadow of war hunched over the Grove as Dekka hurried to the sleep rooms. Teharra’s report was clear and curt. The broken remains of Kotallo’s arm had Bristleback hate leeched in. The hasty field job, cut and cauterized, saved his life this long. But blaze in the wound had done its work, too deep to pry out.

For him to survive, they had to cut the attack off at the source.

This, and then Regalla.

Hekarro’s grief held him impossibly still when she left him staring at the throne room flickers. “Call him back,” had been his orders. “We can’t lose him too.”

Dekka had no intention of losing anyone else. The tags laid at the base of the throne bit so sharp. She’d give Hekarro her full report later. He was with the survivors now, though it sounded like they’d been trapped at a distance while Kotallo fought in the thick of it. And Dekka had her own calls first. A marshal under a knife was always dangerous, no matter how much he understood.

She could hear the right hut twenty paces off. Rough, sharp groans clouded the air. Dekka ducked inside.

“The Chaplain will be here -- “ Teharra’s face lit up with relief. “It’s alright. She’s here.”

Dekka nodded, setting down her bow loudly and slowly. “Kotallo.”

Kotallo sagged against the dark. He curled, hand wrapped across his knees, holding himself up as if by the grip alone. Each time he gasped he twitched, bowed tighter around his wounded limb. Armor and ornaments scattered the rug around him, so he hadn’t stopped Teharra removing them. Or hadn’t managed to. But now he looked coiled, a burrower ready to strike.

He looked up, gaze drifting slow and dull.

Good. So he’d been aware enough to drink Teharra’s liquor. They wouldn’t be able to do this at all without something in him to blunt the pain or his strength.

Teharra nodded. “He’s had a flask, but he won’t take more.” He sighed. “Marshals.”

Dekka smiled despite the tight pang in her chest. “Always at the ready, as much as they can be.” Hopefully one was enough for Kotallo. He rarely drank more ale than brought his brash back out for spars, and Teharra’s brew was rust-bitingly strong. She was glad he’d been aware enough to accept that much.

Dekka stepped closer. “Marshal. Ready?”

“Read…Ready.” Kotallo scowled, fighting against the slurring words. He squinted at Dekka, fist clenched. “Ch…chief?”

She’d only heard bits and pieces from the survivors on her way out. An ambush. Machines tearing through the marshals, Regalla’s traitors on their backs. This close, Dekka could see the dark seep of bruises in Kotallo’s marks. Cuts glinted in the blue-black stain ringing his left arm and side. The same impact echo showed dark and edged in the gap of his sternum and all the way down at his knee between the white bands.

Something enormous crashed into him, or blows all swung from the same side.

It must have been terrible.

“Planning our retaliation.” Dekka made sure he met her eyes. She wondered if he didn’t remember or was so worried he had to ask again. “He’ll want to see you after this.”

Relief hazed across Kotallo’s face. He was young enough for Hekarro’s approval to fill a void Dekka could only just remember. Maybe it would help him through this. Still, Kotallo hissed, slumping. Violent quivers ran across his bruises. “H-he…nhh--it’s bad…”

Sky Clan and their understatements. Dekka nodded. “I know. We’ve had worse.” She hoped that was true, but truth wasn’t her goal here. She moved slow, watching for strikes, and touched Kotallo’s strained knuckles. “Teharra needs to work. Lie down.”

Kotallo’s brow and nose clenched pain-low before he fought them flat. He sighed raggedly, the sound catching each time his bruised side twitched. Were the ribs broken? A snarl-shape trembled into his lip as he glanced at his arm, then turned sharply back to her. “Watch…” Kotallo’s voice broke and he winced, the pain crumpling back into his face. “Watch for machines…she…”

He finally released his knee to catch Dekka’s thumb. He shivered, fighting not to fall without the brace, a fight he would clearly lose. “She had machines…c-controlled them…somehow.”

Chills ridged up Dekka’s back. She needed to know more about that, but not now. Now she needed to answer Kotallo’s fear. She returned the handclasp, keeping her voice firm and even. “I’ll keep watch. I promise.”

Kotallo searched her face. His expression changed sluggishly, from drawn to relieved to exhausted. He braced against her hand. And when he started to fall again, he stopped fighting it.

Dekka held on, pulling to slow his fall, but Kotallo still whimpered through grit teeth hitting down, left arm slipping. Teharra ducked into the gap, stabilizing it and guiding it down. That set Kotallo growling shrilly, glancing wildly in too many directions as he tried to find what was hurting him.

Dekka let him go. No sense making him feel more trapped. “The chief’s guard will take care of it. You just have to focus.”

Kotallo panted, blinking dazedly toward her. Then he arched, keening, clawing at the rug as Teharra peeled the wrap off his mangled arm. Dekka winced, bitter taste in the back of her mouth. How long had he been stifling that sound whenever someone jostled him?

Bared, the destruction was gut-twisting. The stitches at Kotallo’s bloody wrist couldn’t hold the wound closed fully, so bone glinted at the end. The skin was mottled purple and black, darker at the wrist. Ragged scabbed gouges bent the swollen flesh in awful spirals up his forearm. Like he’d been processed by a Scrounger. They rippled and wept as he flinched. The smell of bleed and tear hit like a punch.

Teharra caught her eye and nodded before he bent down. Dekka swallowed. She’d seen many machine wounds and every single one looked inhumanly awful. If the medic thought it was possible, her duty was simple and clear.

Kotallo hissed through setting the tourniquet. He searched the room sluggishly, breaths tight and ragged. The position on his back made it worse. That worked in their favor.

When Teharra brought down his knife, Kotallo howled, recoiling, but he was choked enough to fall back almost instantly, coughing. Each time Teharra shifted Kotallo gurgled, searching shakily for Dekka, a low unyielding sound deep in his chest.

He wouldn’t be able to do this without something to hold.

Dekka leaned over him. It was hardest when there was nothing to fight. Tenakth Kotallo’s age had rarely uexperienced that kind of pain. “Soldier, I need that report. What did this?”

Kotallo twitched, relief fighting into the sweat and bruises on his face. “R -- hhhghh --” His chest spasmed, stomach to neck. “Regah -- !“

Blood, bubbling fresh. Kotallo roared, teeth creaking they clenched so hard. Teharra pinned his shoulder, shushing softly as he dug his knife in again.

 “Regalla.” Dekka broke eye contact long enough to spit on the ground. “Yes. How were you hurt?”

“ B--bhhh. Khhh--aghhh!” Kotallo flattened into the rug, kicking frantically as the blade chewed into him. Dekka pinned him, hands flat to his chest, the shattering force of his spasms jarring up and through her to ground in the dirt. “Brist -- khh! Bristle-b-back…”

Kotallo suddenly snapped his head down, hand writhing against Dekka’s knee. “Javv--AAAH! I w-wouldn’t let…” The words rushed out like he couldn’t bear them in his mouth. “H-he didn’t --- N-no!”

By the Ten! The pain was setting him off, forcing him to see what he had in battle. Dekka realized with a start her hands were flat over the bruise on his chest, where something struck him so hard it painted him black. She cursed and pushed harder. “What happened to the Bristleback, Kotallo?”

“S-sp…!” Kotallo choked, fighting weakly against her, but not enough. Not enough to jostle Teharra, or knock the glow-blade off course as it came down again, sizzling. Kotallo’s scream felt like it split the arena walls.

Dekka focused on the jagged thrum of the sound from Kotallo’s bloodied ribs up her arms, deep into her bones, right into her heart. Let it lodge there. She’d take it. She’d listen to what Regalla did to their soldiers, swallow it down bitterness and all. And she’d send it straight back into that traitor’s chest when the time was right.

Let everyone hear it. Let Hekarro hear it and be ready this time.

Lulls in bloody work like this were short and sharp. Teharra switched tools. Kotallo sagged, streaming sweat. “S-spear,” he gasped, slow and toneless. “Sp-spear. Ja--h-he speared. It pinned me.” His knuckles knocked against Dekka as if to push, but he was too uncoordinated. His wild searching of the hut intensified, tears caught in his paint. “C-can’t get loose. C-crush.”

Dekka hadn’t though she could feel more ache, but there it was. These bruises were from a Bristelback burying Kotallo? Like he was already dead as the sand drank his blood? The image chilled all the way to her spine. No wonder the warriors who saved him looked so haunted.

“It’s not here.” Dekka risked letting go one hand to brush Kotallo’s face, drawing his head down to the rug looking at her. “I have you.”

Had Regalla missed him then, down beneath the machine?

Kotallo winced, blinking hard, heaving. Shudders ran all the way down his ribs. His eyes focused violently as Teharra shifted. “D-Dekka…?” A broken bark of sound, clawed out hoarse and frayed.

Damn, so brave. “Yes. That’s right.” Dekka shuddered. The bone-biter flashed its jagged teeth in the corner of her eye, lighting Teharra’s rigidly focused face. She held it separate, looking only at Kotallo. “Yes. The Bristelaback. How did you evade Regalla, marshal?”

She didn’t really want to know if her old sparring partner found other downed marshals, or what she did to them. Regalla could be cruel and now she was beyond all honor. But Dekka hadn’t been in that bloody dirt, so she wasn’t going to fall short of those who were.

Bone grating sounded like nothing else.

Kotallo fought, joints snapping with the kind of desperation that made lizards bite after their hearts stopped beating. Dekka caught his hips with her knee, pinning his torso with an arm bar dug in at the collarbone. Kotallo wailed and roared, pulse sputtering against her fist at the crook of his ear. But even though he bared his teeth animal-sharp at the pain, he couldn’t move her.

Thank the Ten she could hold him. And she hated it so much. Kotallo was stronger than her. Dekka hated that he wasn’t right now.

Kotallo writhed beneath her even though he couldn’t break through. Dekka didn’t think he could see her, and she could only hope he wasn’t seeing the Bristleback. His white smudged on her knuckles, bleeding off in the sweat. Like Regalla tried to wipe the marshals’ stories down into the sand she thought belonged to her.

“Out -- “ Kotallo suddenly clutched at her sash. “F-fire hair, n-neverseen---” When she looked his eyes were glazed, forced almost closed by the deep gouges the pain tore in his face. But he was focused. Holding on to what he saw. Words bubbled out like the blood spatters Teharra burnt closed. “Neverseenoutland--aaah---f-foughtch-challenge--Gr--AAAH!”

An outlander?

Dekka tried to shift enough for him to feel her tug in return. “A Carja challenge Regalla? Brave.” She leaned down, holding him through the spasms.

She didn’t think Kotallo could feel anything through the sawing teeth. But she had to try.

After interminable time and screams, Teharra shifted at her shoulder. Roasting flesh smell roiled much closer to Dekka’s face than before. She looked, letting the glow-blade sear its echo-ache on her vision to watch it press to the curve where Kotallo’s elbow had been and now was carved away. The blood was so red it seemed like it would never allow another color, even though Dekka knew that wasn’t true.

Teharra nodded, gratitude tight in his face as he set the glowblade aside and took up his needles. He set to closing the flesh around the new end of Kotallo’s arm, stitching the muscles back home.

Before Dekka could respond, Kotallo slumped under her, breaths watery and ragged, full-body trembling. She lurched up so she wasn’t crushing his chest. “Kotallo?”

He muttered, still trying to answer her, but no words formed in the sounds. Dekka pressed her palm to his cheek and sagged with relief when skin-warmth met it. So no blood-chill, thank everything. She tapped his cheek. “Kotallo!”

Teharra’s wounds weren’t like battle hits. They could shock even the strongest warriors into strange states. Maybe losing the bone was more than Kotallo could hold like this.

Kotallo flinched, bumping Dekka’s hand. He slid one eye open. Pain-drunk now, loose and shaky as new-walking cadet, he nudged closer. It took a long time for any recognition to bleed over his face. Kotallo wheezed, fingers twitching. “G--Grudda…”

The desert champion. Certainty stabbed into Dekka. The braggart joined Regalla. “He isn’t here.”

Kotallo bared his teeth in something like a smile, though it couldn’t reach the grooved pain lines in his face. “H-he’s dead.” He clutched his hand to his ribs, panting so fast it shook him. “Ahh--at least---I saw…that…”

Dekka let her full scowl out. She had no patience for Kotallo’s brand of dramatic, regardless of whether he was conscious or not! She clasped his thumb, hard, pulling him away from the bruises. “You’re not dying today. And if you did, I would make you sharpen every weapon in the Grove.”

Kotallo flinched, fumbling in her grip. Confused. The tangle of needles and cut and fingers was probably more than he could parse right now. But he returned the grip. So faint it felt like a brush of wind. “Y…yes…Ch…”

His strength was almost gone. He’d spent so much just getting here, and then making the Ten proud under Teharra’s teeth. Dekka felt him losing cohesion, fingers slackening. She forced herself not to panic. Kotallo was breathing. He showed no sign of stopping. If the pain took him under, it would be a reprieve for all of them.

Still, she hated him fighting to see her. Dekka pressed her thumb to the deep pain lines in Kotallo’s forehead, joining her sweat with his. “The chief still needs your report after this. He’ll want to know what happened to Grudda.”

The pressure nudged Kotallo’s eyes closed, as she’d hoped. He shuddered, each breath he took climbing into her wrist. “S-she…killed…him.” A faint smile dragged at the corner of his mouth. “S-strength…o-of the…Te…”

He went still, head sagged into her hand. Finally, finally out. He still protested faintly to each dip of Teharra’s thread, but the sound was so soft it was barely a hum in Dekka’s fingertips. She let herself breathe, and stay. And wait.

The thick blood smell leveled, pierced with balm-sour and char.

She checked Kotallo’s pulse, even though she could see him breathing perfectly well. “Teharra?”

Teharra wrapped his tools. “He’s survived this far. He should be clear if he wakes up tomorrow.” He paused, reaching to run his hands over his face, but caught it before he smeared himself bloody. Instead, he blinked at Dekka. “He will…”

Dekka took a moment to turn to Teharra, fully meet his eyes. She didn’t want Regalla’s fear to reach any farther than it already had. “Yes. He knows we need him.”

Teharra nodded, teeth grit. Seeing a marshal carved this deep shook him, even after all he’d seen. Dekka had her work cut out for her once she finished here. Teharra stood, lifting the bloody wrapped bundle of Kotallo’s arm. “I’ll report to Chief and see to this. If…he’ll ask for you.”

Dekka shook her head. “He won’t. There are no marshals to keep the Watch. No clanmates he’d recognize.” She traced the mountain lines on Kotallo’s forehead, trying to smooth some of the pain there. “Tell Chief I’m ready to report. And send anyone in need of guidance here to me.”

Teharra saluted. “Walk with the Ten, Chaplain.”

“And Hekarro can wait for you to wash!” Dekka called after him. She settled, half an eye on Kotallo’s short, wincing breaths. They all needed her. Everyone in the Grove, even Hekarro. And she'd do it. She’d see to them all. That was her duty as Chaplain. Tonight this was the tip of her spear.

Dekka gathered Kotallo’s breastplate off the floor. Sitting by his head, so he’d see her if he woke, she picked the dried blood out of the tines. By morning, maybe this would be something she could give back to him, for all the things no one ever could.

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

im curious, how did perkeo become immortal? you say theyre the dont age dont die type but theyve still aged to the point of an average adult. so was there a point where they became immortal? were they born immortal but still aged to the point where they seemed like the average human then stopped?

this is a bit more morbid but im curious about this too

how severe can injuries get if they cant die? how does their body handle situations where the average person would bleed out? would they heal faster? would they just have infinite blood? what if they got into a coma? would they ever wake up? or is it just not possible? how would they heal from injuries that would make it impossible for the average person to come back?

if youre not willing to answer the second stuff thats fine, im just really curious

They do not remember

The earliest memory they have is on the kingdom, and they were already a grown person by then

They remember kneeling, the agreement made with the king

They remember tests, and them stopping with lack of results

They remember doing their job afterwards, and the years that went on as they remained the same

They remember making people smile and laugh and how they cherished that feeling more than anything

That does not mean they never had a family, though

Morbid details under cut

Very. They had to crawl their way out of things no human could even dream of surviving, things no one should have survived — or even lived enough through it as it happened

They can still get dizzy, they can still faint, things can go to black, but eventually their brain will pull them back awake again. Die, but come back

The wound would close, but they can bleed out. They can feel the dizziness, the cold, the pain. If severe enough, they could pass out — either until the wound closes or until their brain decides it gotta keep fighting still. That said, they very likely could deal with a stab wound without passing out if outside factors are not included (if anything, they would just be annoyed)

Sewing a wound would likely make it close faster than leaving it alone

Their heart would always start beating again even after stopping, so I guess you could say they have infinite blood?

They would wake up from a coma I'm pretty sure (how long it would take would depend on the cause), unless it was like, medically induced (which would mean constant upkeep to keep em like that) because yk. Strong drugs

They do heal from injuries that would be impossible for a normal person to survive. Their body puts itself back together – and when it can't, it just makes a new part to compensate

So, for example: let's say they get decapitated. They could put the head back on the neck, and the body would work to glue the two together again

Now, let's say they lost a leg and for some reason could not try to put the leg back in place: then the body would make a new leg. It would take a lot longer, and be infinitely more painful, but it would be back in place one way or another

(Now for what happens to the lost limb — idk it probably rots as the body regens. They are already immortal, might as well throw some nonsense in the mix)

How can they grab their own head and put it back? Idk that's too much to keep track of. Maybe magic who knows

Also! Burned skin will heal and fade, take that was you will

Essentially I would say it's just kind of nightmarish but they do heal pretty fast (how fast? Idk, but pretty fast), and that they would also be pretty used to some level of pain rn

[wool-string]

[mj-iza-writer]

Warning: Eye Whump and Amputation mentions. Drugging Sorry I forgot this before.

Whumpee jumped when their cell door opened.

"M-may I ask who is coming in?", Whumpee whispered. A blindfold had been tied to their head from a recent eye removal surgery to help stop on infection from spreading.

"It's Dr. Yeld and two guards. Whumper would like to run some tests, so we are taking you to the lab. I need to ask the typical questions", Whumpee felt the scientist pat their head, "are you ready?"

"Yes sir", Whumpee nodded.

"To begin with... How does your head and eye sockets feel?", Whumpee allowed the guards to begin shackling them.

"They ache a little and feel crusty and itchy", Whumpee whispered hoarsely, "I think the blindfold is stuck to the crust, I tried hard not to touch it, like you said."

"Okay I'll make a note to change that for you", Dr. Yeld wrote a small note, "why do you sound so hoarse? Do you feel sick?"

"I-I couldn't find my water, I felt around a little in here, but I think it's missing", Whumpee frowned.

Dr. Yeld looked around, "you're right, I'm sorry that happened. We'll get some water before the test."

Whumpee nodded, "please and thankyou."

The last few questions were asked and answered satisfactorily.

Whumpee allowed the guards to lead them to the lab.

"Dr. Yeld", Whumpee whispered as the guards strapped them in, "I'm scared."

"It's okay Whumpee, Whumper said it's going to be minor tests today. Nothing big. I think they want to see how you're healing as well."

Whumpee nodded, "okay, may I have water?"

"Yes of course. I'll be right back", Dr. Yeld stepped away.

Whumpee felt a part of their back start to itch.

"May I have help?", Whumpee requested to anyone listening.

After a minute, Whumpee realized they may have been alone or people around were too busy to help the lab rat.

Whumpee was strapped down onto the metal slab table in a vertical position.

They started to wriggle around in an attempt at scratching their back.

Suddenly, Whumpee's hands slipped through the straps, and they fell to the floor. Their feet tangled into the straps and twisted opposite their natural direction. They hit the floor with a thud.

"Ah, ah, oww", Whumpee cried out, only drowned out by an alarm.

Whumpee heard guards running to them, but they were preoccupied by the shooting pains running up and down their legs.

"He-help, help.... help me please", Whumpee cried out.

Whumpee winced as the guards lifted them up. Their legs were unstrapped and they were laid on the ground.

"What the hell is going on in here?", Whumper's voice could be heard above the alarm.

"The test subject attempted to escape", one of the guards announced.

Whumpee's head shot up quickly, "n-no I didn't."

Whumpee heard someone approach, dress shoes clank against the tile floor.

Whumper knelt down and placed two fingers under Whumpee's chin to lift their face, "then why are the alarms going off? Why are you on the ground Whumpee", Whumper questioned.

"M-my back was itchy, and no one was available to help me. I was wriggling around on the table to try to itch it. Then I fell", Whumpee winced, "m-my legs hurt."

Whumper reached another hand up and patted Whumpee's head, "so my little rat wasn't trying to run."

"No Master, where would I go?", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper chuckled, "good point Whumpee", Whumper stood, "Dr. Yeld, please check Whumpee's legs, and let's see what happened. Today's test will be rescheduled for now."

"I'm sorry Master", Whumpee felt someone starting to pick them up.

"It's okay Whumpee, let's get your legs taken care of. Then I'll check your eyes", Whumper sighed, "I may have to talk to my staff and see why you aren't being taken care of."

"I'm a rat Master, that's why", Whumpee sighed.

"You are... but you are my lab rat, and I expect my staff to take care of you", Whumper frowned.

Whumpee now lay on the metal table again.

"Don't move Whumpee, we're scanning your legs", Dr. Yeld ordered.

"Yes sir, ma-may I have water after this", Whumpee pleaded.

"Oh geesh, Whumpee I'm sorry", Dr Yeld frowned, "just two seconds and done."

Whumpee felt a straw press in between their lips. They quickly drank.

"Careful Whumpee, you're going to ch..", Whumper was interrupted when Whumpee started to choke, "see."

"I'm sorry.... thirsty", Whumpee struggled to catch their breath.

"I don't see any breaks, but you more than likely sprained both legs", Whumper frowned, "you did a number on yourself. See these strains here."

"I didn't mean to, I don't know how I fell. I think my hands slipped", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper stepped over to the table Whumpee lay on and looked it over.

"Try to slip your hands back into the straps", Whumper ordered.

Whumpee quickly did as they were told.

"Someone didn't do a good job strapping you in", Whumper frowned as they watched Whumpee's hand go into the strap with minimal struggle, "who were the guards who helped you bring Whumpee. I need to have a chat with them."

Whumpee shook, "please don't kill them Master."

"I won't kill them, but they may find themselves fired from this lab", Whumper sighed, "I don't like when my little rat gets injured by someone else, especially when it messes my plans up."

Whumpee felt someone sitting them up. They allowed their body to bend to the persons will.

"Let's put them in a soft cast for now. Revisit an x-ray and muscle scan in a week or so. Whumpee, let us know if you have any strange pain, just like normal", Whumper started to leave.

"Master?", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper stopped and turned, "yes Whumpee."

Whumpee shyly fiddled with their fingers, "may I, uhm, may I go outside today?", they kept their head lowered.

"Whumpee it's cold out right now, plus you'll have cast on your legs", Whumper walked back to the table, "I forgot to check your eye sockets."

Whumpee felt Whumper lift their head, and start removing the blindfold.

Whumpee whimpered a little as the cloth was gently pulled from the wound.

"I don't like that it's sticking to the wound sight", Whumper frowned as they took a closer look, "Whumpee I will allow you to pick something fun though, you have had a harder week then we normally give you."

"May I have chicken nuggets for lunch", Whumpee asked excitedly.

"You know what, you absolutely can", Whumper chuckled, "how about I order you chicken nuggets, fries, a dessert, and you can even have soda pop today", Whumper rubbed Whumpee's cheek gently, "how does that sound."

Whumpee melted into the touch, "that sounds yummy", Whumpee moaned tiredly.

"Is my lab rat sleepy?", Whumper chuckled.

"Yes Master, it's difficult to sleep now", Whumpee yawned.

"Hmm", Whumper hummed.

Dr. Yeld set to work wrapping the bandages on Whumpee's legs, "please Whumpee try your hardest not to walk on your legs. They definitely need some rest, you don't want to stress them", Dr. Yeld watch Whumpee nod.

Whumpee reached their hand up to touch where their eyes where.

"Ah ah", Dr. Yeld warned, making Whumpee jump, "don't touch there. That is still fresh, you could cause another infection."

"I'm sorry, it's just weird. It's not even pitch black like you'd think. It's nothingness", Whumpee explained, as they tried to touch the area again."

"Don't touch Whumpee", Dr. Yeld grabbed Whumpee's hand and pulled it away, "I don't want to straightjacket you."

Whumpee nodded, "I'm sorry."

Whumpee heard Dr. Yeld step away.

They sat quietly and listened to the multitude of sounds in the lab.

Suddenly Whumpee felt someone stop in front of them. They were handed a bag and a cup, then the person seemed to climb up on the metal table and sat beside Whumpee.

Whumpee felt confused.

"I-I'm sorry.... who's their? A-and what's this", Whumpee shook.

"As promised, your chicken nuggets, fries, and drink. I have your desert chilling in the freezer for when you want it", Whumper's voice sounded as though they were smiling.

Whumpee quickly opened the bag and pulled out a handful of fries.

"Thankyou Master, I appreciate this gift", they grinned before stuffing their mouth.

"You're welcome Whumpee", Whumper chuckled.

Whumper studied Whumpee while they ate, "I see Doc bandaged your legs."

"Yes Master", Whumpee nodded, "they said not to use them as much as possible."

Whumpee reached up absent mindedly and scratched around the wound on their eye.

"Whumpee... don't touch your eyes", Whumper tried to pull the hand down but was too late.

Whumpee screamed in pain as Dr. Yeld hurried over.

"What happened?", Dr. Yeld pulled Whumpee to lay down.

"It stings", Whumpee cried. Tears started to come out of Whumpee's eye sockets.

"I bet you they bothered it, but got salt on the wound from the fries", Whumper held Whumpee's hands down so they wouldn't do it again or fight Dr. Yeld from disinfecting the wounds."

"Ow", Whumpee screamed, "it hurts."

"I know Whumpee, I wasn't quick enough to stop you", Whumper frowned, "when Doc gets you cleaned up we will put an eye cover on you, I found a better one that hopefully won't stick."

Whumpee shook violently as they were cleaned up.

"Let's place Whumpee in their cell. Let's do a straightjacket for right now", Whumper started to let go. I'll go in and finish feeding them. Then they can have their dessert and I'll put the new eye cover on them, it needs to get cleaned before they wear it."

"Please no straightjacket", Whumpee pleaded.

"I'm sorry Whumpee, it's for your own good", Whumper turned and walked away.

Whumpee sobbed as the straightjacket was buckled, "I'll be good", they pleaded, "please I don't want this."

"I'm sorry Whumpee. You keep touching your eyes. If you keep doing that, they won't heal", Dr Yeld patted their shoulder, "I know you don't like this fact, but you really don't get a choice on the matter."

Whumpee fell quiet except for their sobbing.

Dr. Yeld frowned when he realized what he said, "Whumpee I-I'm sorry.... I."

"Why did I lose my eyes.... was it your fault?", Whumpee shuddered, "because I didn't get a choice."

"I-I don't know why that infection happened, we had to remove the eyes though, it would have spread, and could have killed you."

"What life d-do I have anyway... I'm just a measly lab rat", Whumpee sobbed as they were lifted from the metal table and placed in a wheelchair.

"I didn't even get to eat all of my special treat either", Whumpee cried a little louder.

Dr. Yeld felt guilt crawl up his throat and leave a knot, "I'm sorry Whumpee, but Whumper did say he would go to your cell and help feed you the rest of your meal. You even get a desert, isn't that exciting?", Dr Yeld reached for the cup of soda, "here have a drink of your soda", Dr Yeld held the straw for Whumpee to drink.

Tears continued from small gaps while Whumpee drank a few sips. Their breathing was labored.

"Why am I still able to cry without my eyes?", Whumpee asked while they were wheeled through the hall.

Dr. Yeld was deep in guilty thought on how to make this up for Whumpee.

"Dr. Yeld? I thought he came with us", Whumpee sighed.

"I'm sorry Whumpee, I was just wondering how to make this up to you", Dr. Yeld walked beside the chair, "what was your question?"

"Why am I able to cry without my eyes?", Whumpee asked again.

"We were able to leave your tear ducts in tact", Dr. Yeld smiled, "you still have the ability to produce tears and cry."

"Oh", Whumpee kept their head down.

Whumpee was laid on their mattress in their cell.

They rolled over and tried to sit up.

"Ugh", Whumpee sighed as they fell back down, "I can't see. I can't walk. I can't use my arms."

The cell door opened again, and closed.

"I heard you were pretty upset", Whumper talked from the entrance, "Dr. Yeld and a few other scientists and guards felt bad."

"I'm sorry Master, I didn't mean to say all of those mean things", Whumpee tried to sit up but fell back again.

"I know Whumpee, you're having a hard time settling in again. You've had a busy week, and today didn't help with your legs getting injured", Whumper stepped over and knelt by the mattress. They lifted Whumpee so they could sit up.

"Thankyou Master", Whumpee sighed in relief.

"Alright I'm sitting down next to you, let's finish your lunch", Whumper plopped down on the mattress, "let's see how you feel after this. You can have the dessert later if you're not hungry."

Whumpee nodded, "may I have another drink please?"

"Of course. You are doing so well with your manners", Whumper held the cup for them, "I'm very proud of you."

"Thankyou master", Whumpee squirmed excitedly.

"You're welcome, it looks like you have a few more nuggets. I think your fries were all gone before the eye accident", Whumper held a nugget to Whumpee's lip.

"If you don't feel like dessert I have a packet of gummies you can have instead. Maybe we can go that route, have your dessert later tonight", Whumper grinned.

"Yes Master", Whumpee agreed.

"Alright that was your last nugget", Whumper chuckled, "how was your lunch.... is it what you wanted?"

"Yes Master", Whumpee smiled, "thankyou."

"Here are the gummies", Whumper fiddled with a packet, "I have a few sour ones as a treat. Your face is funny when you eat sour candies."

Whumpee smiled, "thankyou."

Whumper started to put the candies one by one in Whumpee's mouth.

Whumpee made a face, "that one is really sour", they gasped.

Whumper chuckled, "I know."

Whumpee felt tired after a few minutes.

"Master I'm sleepy", Whumpee interrupted Whumper from their rambling.

"I know Whumpee", Whumper sighed, "I slipped you a gummy to help you go to sleep."

Whumpee struggled to get away from Whumper.

"No, no... none of that", Whumper held them down, "you can't use your legs right now. Earlier you said you were having trouble sleeping, I can't have you being tired unless I'm testing something that requires you to be tired."

Whumpee sobbed as Whumper pulled them to lay down. Their head now rested on Whumper's lap.

"It's just a light drug, I need you to sleep", Whumper rubbed Whumpee's head, "you'll wake up in a few hours. I'll let you have your dessert then."

Whumpee heard the door open.

"Ah, Dr. Yeld, you brought the eye cover", Whumper grinned.

Dr. Yeld looked at Whumpee sadly then handed the cover to Whumper.

"These are nice, and padded. They should lay on your skin nicely and not get stuck to the wound.

Whumper lifted Whumpee's almost limp body and slid the covers on their head and over their eyes.

"There we go", Whumper adjusted the tightness.

After a few minutes of hearing Whumpee's snores. Whumper rested Whumpee on their pillow and covered them up.

"I-I didn't know you were serious about drugging them", Dr. Yeld watched Whumper as they stood.

"They need to sleep, it is harder for blind people to sleep sometimes. They are getting use to this new life", Whumper sighed, "I wasn't acting out of anger and meanness. I truly need them to sleep. I do care for my lab rat. Though I know I have a weird way of showing it."

"I said something to them though, I wanted to apologize", Dr. Yeld frowned and watched Whumpee's steady breathing.

"Oh I heard what you said. I was quite amused actually", Whumper laughed, "I guess you will need to wait until they wake up."

Dr. Yeld made an angry face at Whumper.

"Will you ever tell them you're the reason they got that infection? You're the reason they lost their sight.", Dr. Yeld crossed their arms.

"No, and neither will you. You've done some horrid test on them yourself, remember. If you say anything, I will kill you."

Whumper walked past Dr. Yeld as they exited the room, "remember our agreement and your place in this lab."

"Yes Master", Dr. Yeld cowarded away and looked back at Whumpee.

"Come along", Whumper stood by the door, "we have plenty of things to do."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems @lavndvrr @ivymyers @starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

[loversandantiheroes]

Ellie and Cee bonding by swapping stories about the time they had to patch up their adopted dads' near-fatal stab wounds while Joel and Ezra compare scars.

[the-star-system-pals]

Keeping a journal helps.

We recovered some memories while watching an interview of a man who'd been through multiple, repeated counts of SA as a child. Something his predator said to him, was something said to us as well. We just. Didn't remember it. Our situation was almost the same, both in the hand placement and words said. We don't remember anything but the feeling, and someone saying the words to us. Being frozen. We don't remember when or where or who. Not a single identifying detail.

Anyways. Whoever was fronting wrote in the journal about the memory recovery and trigger.

We wanted to remember more, and now we are. Just forgot to think about, y'know, the emotional effects of recovering memories. Especially without our therapist being available for an unknown period of time. It's been months at this point since we've seen her. It's out of her control, she's having health issues due to medical neglect by the local hospital. That place has been sued twice for malpractice. Love that. One time they cut off the wrong leg! Actually. Maybe not that far? But they were at fault for a local here to lose his leg when he went in just for a toe amputation. They kept failing to take care of his wounds so they kept having to cut off parts. Toe, then the foot at the ankle, and then the leg at like the shin, and then above the knee. That was one of the cases in the second malpractice suit. We knew that guy.

Anyways uh. Didn't mean to actually just throw all of that up but! I just type what pops into my head so whatever. I'll just tag for triggers there.

The point of this post: Keeping a journal to track moods and triggers and just write about your day is really helpful when you're a system or have memory issues in general. Even if it's nothing you think of any real uhhh consequence? Just writing about this or that, writing what pops into your noggin, is good. It's helped us keep our moods stable too, I think. Been absolutely vital since our therapist had to take medical leave.

[pepawspring]

The Gamble of Flesh

This was a commission! (client wishes to remain anonymous). If you’re interested in commissioning me for a fic/drawing, feel free to reach out —commissions are open!

Wordcount: 2169

In the heart of the crumbling metropolis of Perditia, life revolved around two things: survival and risk. The city had long abandoned any semblance of law and order, and its people had turned to the one constant they could control- luck. From back-alley dice games to extravagant underground casinos, gambling had become the heartbeat of this dystopian society. The stakes had grown so high that money had become obsolete in certain circles. People were betting things far more valuable- time, loyalty, and even pieces of themselves.

Sera leaned back in a worn leather chair, the dim glow of neon signs from the casino's walls casting faint shadows across their sharp features. They had been here for hours, sitting at the most exclusive table in the room- a space reserved for those who had the audacity to wager their very existence. Tonight's game was the highest of all stakes, and for Sera, it was just another night.

Across the table sat their opponent, an older man with a hawk-like face and eyes that glistened with the kind of hunger that came from years of greed and thrill-seeking. The man smirked, pushing his pile of chips forward with slow deliberation.

"Raise," he said, his voice as gravelly as the streets outside. "I think we both know what's on the line here."

Sera studied the cards in their hand- a decent set, but not unbeatable. They looked at the pot on the table, filled not with mere currency but markers representing each player's most valuable assets. Time, freedom, secrets, body parts—all things considered tradable in Perditia's world. The air around the table was thick with tension as the other players, spectators in this brutal game, watched in eerie silence.

With a nonchalant shrug, Sera tossed in their final chip, pushing the pot even higher. The glint in their opponent's eyes grew more vicious. He licked his lips, sensing victory.

"Well, well, Sera. Do you even know what you're playing for anymore?" the man asked, leaning forward. "You've already bet your money, your secrets. Now all that's left is something more... personal."

Without missing a beat, Sera gave a half-smile. "I bet my left leg."

The crowd that had gathered around the table stirred, murmurs rippling through the room. Betting a limb wasn't unheard of, but it was rare, even in a city like this. The man across from Sera raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by the casualness of the offer. He leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Your leg, huh? I wonder how you'll get around without it." he chuckled darkly. "But fine. Accepted."

The cards were revealed. Sera's heart didn't even race when they saw their hand- three of a kind. Not bad, but the old man had a full house. A resounding sigh passed through the crowd as they realized Sera had lost. The man gave a slow, malicious grin, collecting the winnings.

Sera simply leaned back in their chair, exhaling through their nose. There wasn't even a hint of hesitation in their expression.

"You really are something, Sera," the man said, shaking his head in mock admiration. "Losing a limb over a card game, and you barely bat an eye."

Sera's smirk deepened. "What's life without a little excitement?"

And right before they decided to cut off Sera's leg, a memory flashed in their mind, vivid and searing.

Sera had been nine years old, hiding behind a crumbling brick wall in a narrow alley, the sharp scent of damp trash clinging to the air. They'd been out on the streets, scavenging scraps of food like any other day in Perditia, when they heard it- raised voices, the unmistakable tension of a gamble gone wrong.

Curiosity had always been one of Sera's weaknesses, even back then, before they learned how deadly it could be. They peered around the corner, eyes wide, barely breathing, as the scene unfolded.

There were four of them, hunched over a makeshift table with cards strewn across it. Two were thugs, the kind that looked like they lived for violence, their hands twitching toward the pistols at their hips. The third was the dealer, calm and unflinching, flipping the cards with the ease of someone who had watched too many people lose too much. But it was the fourth man- sweating, frantic, and desperate, who held Sera's attention.

The man had gambled something important. His clothes were tattered, and his hands trembled as he laid down his final cards. The thugs laughed, low and cruel, as they threw their winning hands onto the table. The man's face drained of color. He didn't even have a chance to beg for his life before the guns were out.

The gunshot rang out like a hammer falling, the sharp crack echoing off the alley walls. Sera flinched but didn't move from their hiding spot. They watched, frozen, as the man's body slumped to the ground, his blood pooling beneath him, soaking into the dirt.

The thugs didn't care. They stood, their boots crunching on the gravel, and one of them spat on the ground next to the man's lifeless body. The dealer pocketed the winnings, a stack of blood-soaked bills and a rusted keychain, and the three of them walked away like nothing had happened.

Sera stayed hidden, crouched behind that wall for what felt like hours, their heart pounding in their chest. They had always known that gambling was a way of life in Perditia, that it could turn deadly in an instant. But this- this was the first time Sera had seen death dealt so casually, a life extinguished over a hand of cards. It was a lesson burned into their memory, a moment that would define them in the years to come.

When the coast was clear, Sera had crept forward, their small frame tense as they approached the body. The man's eyes were still open, staring up at the darkening sky, empty. Sera stared back, not daring to touch him, but unable to look away. This could be anyone, they thought. This could be me.

The memory faded, but the lingering weight of it stayed with Sera as they blinked back to the present, seated in a dimly lit underground room where the stakes had escalated far beyond money. They had gambled much since that day, but never forgotten the grim reality of what a lost bet could cost.

The man standing before them now, the one with the blade poised to take Sera's leg, was no different from the thugs in that alley. He had no emotion, no remorse. This was just another part of the game for him.

Sera met his gaze, a cold smirk tugging at their lips. They wouldn't beg. They wouldn't flinch. Losing a leg was nothing compared to what they had seen, what they had survived. This was the cost of playing, and Sera had long ago accepted that everything had a price.

The aftermath was handled swiftly. Perditia wasn't a place for mercy or second chances. They had seen this sort of thing before- losing was part of the game, and the consequences were non-negotiable.

Sera stood, offering their left leg with the same grace they showed at the table. No one spoke as a medic was called over, equipped with tools designed for the grim task. The room was eerily quiet as the procedure was set up, and yet Sera remained as calm as if they were getting a tooth pulled.

The old man watched with interest, his cruel smile still etched into his face. "You know, Sera, most people would beg for their life right now."

"I'm not most people," Sera replied coolly.

The medic made quick work of the amputation, their tools sharp and efficient. Sera barely winced as the blade met skin and bone, severing their leg just below the knee. Blood was staunched immediately, and a high-tech bandage was wrapped around the stump to prevent infection. The whole thing was over in minutes.

When it was done, Sera looked down at where their leg had been, a blank expression on their face. They tested their balance for a moment, then gave a wry smile as if nothing had changed.

"Well, that's one way to lose weight," they quipped, their voice dripping with dark humor.

The old man let out a barking laugh. "Unbelievable. You really don't care, do you?"

Sera shrugged, hopping slightly as they adjusted to their new reality. "It's just a leg. I'll manage."

The crowd, stunned by the casualness of the whole affair, slowly began to disperse. The casino went back to its usual hum of games and chatter, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. In Perditia, this was just another night.

———

Days passed, and life in the city continued as usual. Sera navigated the streets with a crutch, moving through the bustling crowds with practiced ease. They had already scheduled an appointment with a back-alley mechanic to craft a prosthetic, one that would suit their lifestyle- something durable, lightweight, and, most importantly, easy to use in a fight.

The loss of their leg hadn't slowed them down much, but there were, of course, adjustments. Sera couldn't chase down leads or run through alleyways with the same speed as before, and the constant phantom pain gnawing at where their leg used to be was an annoying reminder of the cost of their gamble.

But did they regret it? Not for a second.

Sera had always believed that survival in Perditia required more than just luck or skill, it required the ability to accept loss, to embrace it even. They had grown up watching people fall apart when they lost something important, whether it was money, power, or a piece of themselves. Sera refused to be one of those people. To them, life was a game, and losing was just part of it.

One evening, Sera met up with an old friend, a fellow gambler named Lila, who had been out of town during the infamous bet. They met at a rooftop bar, the neon lights of the city flickering below them as they shared drinks and conversation.

"I heard about what happened," Lila said, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity. "You lost your leg in a card game?"

Sera sipped their drink, nodding. "Yep. Got outplayed. Happens."

Lila stared at them for a moment, her brow furrowed. "You don't seem too bothered by it."

Sera shrugged, a smirk tugging at their lips. "It's just a leg, Lila. It's not like I was using it to win any races."

Lila blinked, then chuckled despite herself. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely," Sera leaned back in their chair "Worst part is, I can't even blame it on a bad hand. I knew the odds and still went all in. Guess my leg's got better survival instincts than I do."

"You're insane," Lila shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Most people would be devastated."

Sera grinned. "Most people don't know how to lose. Besides, I always wanted a leg up in the game. Just didn't think it'd be this literal."

Lila groaned. "Please stop."

Sera's grin widened. "You walked right into that one. Well, I didn't."

Lila covered her face with her hands, laughing now. "God, you're impossible."

Sera leaned forward, their expression softening slightly. "But seriously, the way I see it, the only way to survive in this city is to roll with the punches. If you get too attached to anything- money, power, limbs- you're setting yourself up for failure. I lost a leg, sure, but I'm still in the game. That's what counts."

Lila considered that for a moment, then raised her glass. "To surviving."

Sera clinked their glass against hers. "To surviving."

———

Weeks passed, and Sera's prosthetic was ready- a sleek, metal limb that hummed softly with every step. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. More importantly, it didn't slow them down. They were back to their old routines, navigating the city's underworld, placing bets, trading information, and occasionally pulling off a heist or two.

The people of Perditia quickly learned that Sera was just as dangerous as ever, if not more so. The loss of their leg hadn't weakened them- it had made them sharper, more focused. Sera wore the prosthetic like a badge of honor, a reminder that they had risked everything and come out the other side.

In the end, Sera's life hadn't changed much. They still gambled, still took risks, still lived on the edge. But now, when people looked at them, they saw someone who had stared down loss and shrugged it off with a smirk. Sera had become a living legend in Perditia- a testament to what it meant to survive in a world that demanded everything.

Because in Perditia, it wasn't about what you had. It was about what you were willing to lose.

And Sera had already proven that they were willing to lose everything.