#cw involuntary surgery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foone · 1 month ago

Text

Because I'm me, I had to check.

In my copy, I didn't check which version it is and it doesn't say, so... ± a few seconds for CGI creatures.

Obi-Wan tells Luke "blah blah wreched hive, blah blah, we must be cautious" 42 minutes and 26 seconds into A New Hope.

We've got establishing shots and then the "These aren't the droids you're looking for" scene. Luke does NOT start a gunfight while in a car surrounded by armed cops asking questions. Good for him.

Next scene: They arrive at the cantina. Obi-Wan WARNS LUKE AGAIN: "Watch your step, this place can be a little rough." at 43:47. It has been a minute and a half of movie time, and Obi-Wan is already telling ANOTHER SKYWALKER to be careful.

Muppets, the droids get thrown out, luke gets a drink, argument begins at 45:37 when... (oh, Lucas save me, I'm going to have to do this correctly)

OH WHAT THE BABY ... YODA? IS GOING ON HERE?! You're telling me the Mos Eisley Cantina has a name, and it's not "Mos Eisley Cantina"?!

It's Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina?

OK BACK ON TRACK HERE!

At 45:37, an argument starts, when PONDA BABA shoves Luke Skywalkre. That's Ponda Baba, a male Aqualish (from the water-covered planet Ando, in the Lambda Sector of the Mid-Rim. So he, Ponda Baba, shoves Luke. Presumably at the direction of his employer, DOCTOR CORNELIUS EVAZAN.

The good doctor is, in fact, Human! He's not an alien, he's simply disfigured because he's a cosmetic surgeon gone mad.

And no, I don't mean he operated on himself, don't be silly. He operated on patients, horribly disfiguring* them in creative ways. He's the Mutilator of Milvayne, and a bounty hunter disfigured* him and he barely survived but was rescued by Ponda Baba.

The whole twisted-surgery thing wasn't his only crime. He also worked with Dryden Vos, the public face of the crime syndicate Crimson Dawn, to create THE DECRANIATED: Horrific prefect-servants created by taking humans, and removing their free will... and much of their head. This whole thing in his backstory, added to the character from the first movie with like, 30 seconds of screentime? this all came from a character that was going to appear for a few seconds in Star Wars: Episode VII The Force Awakens.

was going to, because they didn't actually include that minor background character in the film! This is all backstory that was invented later to add to a character from a movie they're not even in, because they got dropped in preproduction, to a character from a 1977 film in which he appears for THIRTY NINE SECONDS.

The Star Wars fiction is fucking fractal, and I hate that as much as I love it. You can zoom in infinitely and just find more tiny bits of kinda stupid backstory that exist because someone in 1983 made a comic where we learned that the blue elephant guy had four kids, but one was adopted**

Anyway, where was I? A couple footnotes and a tangent or three ago I was saying that THE ARGUMENT STARTS AT 45:37!

Meaning that from the moment Obi-Wan tells THE SKYWALKER KID to Be Cautious**** to BARFIGHT BEGIN, the amount of movie time that elapses is THREE MINUTES AND ELEVEN SECONDS!

Meaning! That when Obi-Wan told Luke that this is the worst place, in all the galaxy, we gotta be really fucking careful... It kept the kid out of trouble for LESS THAN 5 OF YOUR EARTH MINUTES!

So the two warnings did not really help. I mean, much. Maybe without them Luke would have tried to fight his way out of the "Not The Droids You're Looking For" scene before Obi-Wan could even whip out the mind-control.

If I could add a second readmore, I would put it here.

Anyway... yeah. Skywalkers, man. I bet you the real reason Obi-Wan made his sacrifice while fighting Vader on the death star is that he just saw Luke run in and it finally hit him: Oh my god there's two of them. here. at the same time. He's just had enough of this, man. Enough of these Skywalkers.

And those punks don't even leave him alone when he's DEAD. He's gotta go "LUKE USE THE FORCE LUKE IT'S STRONG WITH YOU IT'S A GOOD DAY TO DIE! QAPLA! OR WHATEVER WE SAY HERE" before his body is even cold... wait he didn't leave a body. Nevermind, metaphor canceled!

He has to come back and tell luke stuff, then he's gotta tell Luke to find Yoda, and then even once Luke has found yoda he's gotta keep showing up and talking to them and just let the man rest, please. He has been dealing with FUCKING SKYWALKERS FOR ... a while.

I'm not going to calculate how many years it is. The calendar used by star wars is a whole other thing. And there's enough things as it is, frankly.

\* Why doesn't this word start with "dys"? What the greek is going on here?** \** Of course I checked! It's from Anglo-Norman "desfigurer". Not related to the ancient greek "dys" at all, apparently. \*** I want to clear: I made that one up, because I don't want to have to go look up the real weird shit in the blue elephant's backstory. I'm not even going to look up his name, and no, I don't remember it, I am not that kind of star wars fan. \**** Arguably Obi-Wan did say "we must be cautious" and it would be a very skywalker move to justify not being cautious because obi-wan is being cautious for the two of them. "we" were indeed be cautious. Specifically, Obi-Wan was being cautious. The Skywalker dived headfirst into the first dangerous thing he found, and Obi-Wan had to rescue them. \***** Imagine if you will, a hypothetical scene where Leia is also there and there's three of... WAIT NO THIS ISN'T HYPOTHETICAL, this is what happens! Leia is standing over by the Falcon when Obi-wan sees Luke at the end of the Obi-Wan/Vader Saber Fight. Obi-wan can see THREE SKYWALKERS: Vader, Luke, Leia. No wonder he dies 10 seconds later. No I didn't go back and time it, shut up.

U can watch Star Wars so many times and it doesn’t prepare u for how dumb Star Wars is. For one thing I think we gloss over how kenobi (who has definitely been at the club. Please.) describes the mos eisley cantina as the worst most villainous place ever and then u get inside and it’s a pack of muppets vaping

#star wars #star wars a new hope #too much star wars #cw involuntary surgery

32K notes · View notes

hiskillingjar · 1 month ago

Text

Woundfucking (Lawrence/OC)

something something, i am the wound that never heals, i am the turning knife, yonic metaphors, etc etc. day 3: woundfucking second person, law x transfem oc (this one). cw for gore and some internalised transmisogyny

“Motherfucker…”

You took in a pained hiss through your teeth as you stared down at the open wound on your thigh, analysing the layers of skin, fat and muscle, all covered in a garish sheen of blood, like something out of a horror movie.

The scalpel did an expertly clean cut, better than any rusty knife you might have had in your collection, and your body was well numbed from a cup of Lawrence's tea, so you couldn't feel the (surely) agonising pain you were both putting your body through in service of a morbid curiosity and a twisted sexual proclivity.

But even so, it looked diabolical.

"How do you feel?" Lawrence asked, their flat monotone strangely calm as they pulled the scalpel blade away from your skin and looked up towards you.

There was a cold and almost analytical look in their grey eyes, without a hint of remorse or sympathy present, though that was to be expected from them.

You had begged for this for weeks, knowing they’d get as much enjoyment from it as you, so why would they feel anything close to sympathy for you?

There might have been a little bit of excitement, too, though that could be your imagination.

"It's...weird not to feel it," You murmured, feeling something close to a shiver between your temples as they set the scalpel down on their desk and keened up on their knees, the bloody tarp crackling beneath them, inspecting the open wound closer. "Like, it looks like it should hurt, but it doesn't...almost like it's not a part of me or something."

Lawrence nodded, their eyes flitting back down to the wound.

"Well...you'd be surprised how good our mind is at disconnecting us from our body sometimes...especially in a situation like this."

They picked up their phone, turned on the torch with a slide of a bloody finger over cracked glass, and began looking deeper into the cut, their eyes flicking over the flesh and bone of the exposed muscle.

“Like, adrenaline, right?” They continued, thoughtfully staring into the cavern of flesh and sticking their free hand inside, calloused finger tips stroking each layer. “It’s even better with anaesthetic in your system too. You’re not bleeding nearly as much as you should be, in this situation…”

"Fucking gnarly," You said with something close to awe, shivering again (or as close as you could manage) when they reached forward and pressed a thumb against your thigh...well, your femur, if you remembered your bones properly. "Like one of those surgery videos."

Lawrence couldn't help but smile at that (eerie, empty, honest, the way they smiled around you and no one else), their gaze continuing to flit from spot to spot, studying it meticulously.

"Yeah...like one of those surgery videos." They said, before looking up at you. "Can you move your leg at all?"

"No," You said. "It feels like I can't move any part of me.” You attempted to shrug but couldn’t manage it, resulting in just an involuntary twitch of your neck. “I mean, neck up, I guess, cus I can talk and blink, and...you know, be alive."

"Yeah...that's the drugs doing their thing." They said with a little nod, looking back down at the wound as their thumb sank deeper, against the bone. "I used a natural anaesthetic, jasmine and quinine and…stuff,” Their voice trailed off for a moment. “So, you're still completely conscious, but you won't be able to move a muscle without my say-so."

"Hot," You said with a little grin (probably a little manic, despite the lack of pain). "Like I'm your weird, little experiment, huh, Law?"

Now that got an actual laugh out of Lawrence, wheezing, high and deep all at once, sounding a little like they were being choked.

You didn’t mind.

It was the laugh they hadn’t practised, after all, so it felt all the more authentic to you. Like they could truly be themself around you, without the practised smiles and laughs and gestures that made them appear normal.

“Y-you could say that," They said with another little chuckle.

"Hhh," You took in a breath, watching as their hand slid up the length of the wound and held your thigh tightly, big hands making the limb look small and delicate. "Is it weird that I like it?"

Lawrence paused for a moment and looked up at you, examining the expression on your face, probably trying to determine if your admission was just the drugs talking. Once they figured out that wasn’t the case, they laughed again, another eerie (gentle, dreamy, lovely) smile forming on their face.

"No...it’s not weird at all." They murmured. "Why do you like it?"

"It's like...yonic, right?" You laughed, nervously licking your lower lip as their fingers stroked over each layer of muscle, each fold, like they were stroking a cunt that you didn’t have. "Like...I don't have what we want, so you did the next best thing and carved one for me. It's, like, crazy intimate, if you think about it like that."

Lawrence nodded, their smile growing further into the shallow, rictus grin that you liked so much, and their long, bony fingers gently flexed and curled as they continued to examine the wound, caressing the cut with the most gentleness and care.

"Intimate…” They repeated in a hushed whisper. “Yeah, I guess it is, isn't it?"

"Feels like…” You added, as their fingers sank further into the wound, slicked with blood, like fluid, like semen. “M-Maybe you could fuck me like a girl like this."

They paused then and their eyes flicked up to yours, brows knitting together, the expression on their face hard to gauge.

"Really? You'd want that?" They asked, their empty, grey eyes boring into yours, unblinking, looking right through you.

You wondered what they could see..

"Mm," You nodded hesitantly, licking your lips again. They tasted like botanicals and rot, an aftermath of the tea that made you taste like they did. "Yeah. You should try, see if it feels good..."

"You're really too much," Lawrence mumbled, though the slightest amount of tone to their flat voice indicated a kind of fondness as they stood to their feet, plastic crackling beneath their toes. "You really want this, huh?"

"It’s your only chance of fucking a pussy with me," You said with a self-deprecating laugh, watching as they slid their jogging bottoms down their thighs and slowly worked their cock to full hardness, straddling your slack knee as their wrist jerked. “You should be jumping at the chance.”

"You don't know that," They said quietly, wrapping their free arm around your shoulders and leaning close, their cold lips pressed to your cheek. "I thought your insurance at the cafe could cover SRS...you could always ask, if you don’t know…"

"Mm, maybe…" You couldn't chase after another kiss, but you didn't mind that so much.

It felt good to play the slack doll, instead of admitting to what you wanted.

Just like it felt good to play the sarcastic trans girl who was above bottom surgery and enjoyed having a cock, instead of admitting that you wanted a pussy so badly that it made you want to scream.

"Maybe," They repeated, kissing down your face, their stubble soft on your skin. "I don’t need to jump towards anything, though…this is way more than enough.” They cleared their throat with a little sigh, gripping themselves tight. “You're…better than anyone else for doing this, you know..."

"You're sweet to me," You said with an unexpected smile, eyes flitting down to see that they had worked themself to full hardness. "It's a shame I can't feel it."

"Mm, yeah, it is…" They agreed, pressing the head of their cock against the open wound, a rush of blood coating the skin with each press. "It would...ah," They groaned as they eased it into the space against your femur, the wet slide of muscle rubbing against their cock. "It would be agony, though. You wouldn't enjoy it. It would be really distracting."

"You have a point," You said, keeping your eyes locked down. Another stream of blood ran down your skin and covered the tarp beneath the two of you, collecting pools of blood, ready to be collected and used. "Can you tell me how it feels then?"

"Mm...it feels amazing," They murmured, their head sinking down to your shoulder as they pressed closer, their heaving chest against yours. "It's not tight at all...and I can feel your body opening for me, like you're adapting for me to take..."

"Yeah?" You didn't know what the drugs were doing to your blood, but it meant your face didn't feel nearly as hot as it usually did when Lawrence treated you to this kind of dirty talk. "Wet and open, huh? Like a cunt should be?"

"I-I wouldn't know," They stammered, breathing hard against your collar bone (you could feel enough to feel the cool wheeze of their breathing). "I've never fucked anyone else but you."

"God, you're cute," You said, unable to hold back a fond chuckle. "Which hole do you prefer then?"

"Mmf," They took their lip between their crooked teeth, their bumped nose pressing against your neck as they eased even deeper, your blood smearing against their soft (very cute) belly and dying the blonde hairs at the base of their cock. "They...hah, they all have different things I like about them…I can’t pick just one."

They built up a consistent pattern of thrusting into the open wound then, rutting against your knee as they clung tighter onto you, like a babe clinging to its mother while it fucked her open wounds.

"I...like your mouth. It's soft and warm, and I," They stammered through a broken, croaking moan, pushing deeper still which caused another tear up your thigh, skin splitting and ripping up to the beginnings of your hip. "I like the way you sound when I'm fucking it."

"Mm..." You moaned, once hazy eyes widening at the torn flesh, a shaky smile coming to your face, thinking about how it was going to look afterwards.

An open slit up your leg. Better than any other pussy any other girl could have.

"I like your ass." They then said, placing their free hand on your other thigh, tracing the holes in your fishnets, where they had been ripped to accommodate this demented foreplay. "Tight and hot and...nhhh, feels dirty, too."

"Dirty?" You asked, looking up at their hot face.

"It's not supposed to feel good," They slurred, hiding their face against your shoulder again. "Not...hah, supposed to..."

"It's where I feel good, though." You whispered, sighing as they nuzzled into you, pinning your skinny body against the chair, forcing it to rock and tilt. "It's where I was made to feel good, up there with all the shit and mess.” You breathed out, feeling an odd thrum of arousal in your unfeeling body. “Maybe it feels good, because of how dirty it is…"

"Maybe," They slurred, their face buried in your hair, masked by strands of black and green. "I like this hole too, though. I like that you let me do it."

"Yeah?"

"It’s hot and slick. It's going to scar so fucking bad."

They were starting to shake, holding onto you even tighter.

"Yeah," You smiled. "Like Rosanna Arquette in Crash. That huge fucking scar on her thigh…bodies shaped into fetish objects. That’s what you’ve made me, Law."

"They might have to cut it off, you know. If I cum inside it. Ruin the wound."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

They whimpered but picked up the pace of their thrusts, not at all put off by the idea.

"It's okay to like it, too. I like that you like it."

"Thank you. Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #lawrence x mc #lawrence x reader #kinktober 2024 #echo #one of the faves #sorryyyyy i love writing echo and law together <3

47 notes · View notes

crucifiedramblings · 2 months ago

Note

³⁰⁾ “we need to come out here more.” + Wade Wilson x Reader

(these are all being sent in by my bestie who is right next to me in the car)

(deadpool & wolverine gave me another excuse to write about how insanely hot i find wade so let's do this)

cw: 18+ content/mdni, porn without plot + comedy, gross language, transmasc reader, afab anatomy used, p in v sex, reader has top surgery, brief slur use, friends with benefits who are secretly in love but they're both too funny to take it seriously, no use of y/n, blurb

you and deadpool had been hooking up on a semi-regular basis, and today was a hard day for both of you. wade had lost francis yet again, and you - or more accurately, your pussy - was always there to comfort him when his arch nemesis inevitably slipped through his gloved fingers.

another day, another slay - as wade had texted you earlier in the evening after a particularly rough day on the (voluntary, of his own free will even) job. after a nearly two hour phone call, he swiftly arrived at your apartment with a suit that was drenched in his own blood and sweat, an expression on his mask that painted him in a similar light to a lost puppy.

wade practically collapsed into you as you greeted him, his face plunging into your chest with a groan.

"god, i wish you still had your tits-" he paused, waving his hands in front of him with a panicked realization, "not that you don't look great- but a nice fluffy pair of funbags always gets me back to my old self."

that is exactly why the two of you are in the postion you find yourself in - legs tossed over wade's shoulders, mouth agape as fruitless whimpers fall from your parted lips. his mask is tugged just over the tip of his nose as he laps up his own release from your leaking pussy, his cock already swelling in preparation of another round.

his name echoes from your throat, yearning whines giving way to broken moans as you grow close to yet another climax. with the pressure steadily growing, wade abruptly halts his tongue and pulls the red fabric clinging to his face back down over his wet mouth with an exaggerated sigh.

"you know, i should really come here more often." wade jokes with a humorous lilt, eyes widening as he looks down to his hardened cock. "oh, wait!"

wade chuckles as he starts to push his swollen head against your enlarged clit, causing your laugh to morph into a strangled whimper.

"hah- mmh- fuck," you groan as wade pushes into you with little warning. his charred cock glides deliciously between your fleshy walls, causing an involuntary mewl to bubble from your throat.

"fuck yeah," wade grunts in excitement, "grip onto my dick with that pretty faggot pussy." he manages to make disgusting comments in between thrusts, and it only proves to make you wetter by the minute.

as you reach your third peak of the evening, there is no sign of wade's stamina running out.

#deadpool #deadpool x reader #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #mcu #mcu deadpool #crucified writes #ask prompt

16 notes · View notes

ladowasnthere · 2 years ago

Text

Random Prompts Combinatios #1:

DIY Projectile Removal + Gotta Stay Quiet To Avoid Discovery + Tight Spaces

Work: Whenever We Are

Characters: Ein and Zwei

CW/TW: Blood, DIY Stitches, Descriptions of injury (specifically crossbow bolt wounds and the removal of said bolt), Needles, Swearing, Guns (small mention)

A/N: I didn't mean for it to be this long, nor for it to take so long, but I have a habit of getting carried away, especially when it comes to these two. This was honestly, like most of my works, one great big ramble, if there's any mistakes, or something I need to add to the CW/TW list, please let me know.

Zwei yanked Ein into the narrow opening, one hand over their mouth while the other was pressed around the crossbow bolt sticking out of their bloodstained torso.

He stood still for a moment, keeping their bodies pressed close as he listened for footsteps in the hall outside. They came and went, a two pairs of shoes heavy and rushed against the cold stone floor of the cave. Once they passed, Zwei turned Ein around, stuffing their tall figure into the corner farthest from the cubby's entrance.

Ein protested of course, their wings and legs bent at what had to be uncomfortable angles as they were forced to lie somewhat flat in the small space. Zwei had barely any space to properly sit beside Ein but he made it work, even if he was forced to hunch over them.

Zwei removed his hand from Ein's mouth and a pained groan fell from their lips the moment he did. Ein bit their bottom lip to avoid making anymore involuntary noises and Zwei busied himself with the immoral's gear.

There was unfortunately no time for gentleness, so Zwei forced himself to ignore the various whimpers and whines of pain that escaped Ein's notice, nor could he slow down when noticed the way their body trembled with discomfort.

This was meant to be easy reconnaissance mission, however, the rookie Ein had been paired with set off an alarm, alerting the enemy of their presence. Ein had managed to get the rookie and a few other soldiers out of the underground base and to safety, but not without taking a couple hits themself.

Since their only other way of escape had left with the rest of the squad on Zwei's order, that left him and Ein with only one option left: Flight.

But then Ein took a crossbow bolt to the torso, and there was no way in hell Zwei could fly both himself and someone injured, winged, and taller than him to a safe distance at a reasonable speed.

This meant Ein had to fly themselves out, which they simply couldn't do with bolt sticking out of their lower ribcage. Which brings the duo here: an extremely cramped hidy-hole where Zwei was preforming emergency surgery.

Zwei had successfully removed Ein's chestplate and unzipped their suit, now his hand was hovered over the dark skin of their torso around the bolt. The bleeding wasn't too bad yet, but Zwei had already fished some gauze and a pre-threaded needle out of his first aid kit. Ein paled when they saw it.

"You're fucking kidding me."

They hissed under their breath, giving the general a hard glare. Zwei fished a lighter from one of his pockets, using it to bend the metal of the needle.

"Gauze isn't going to do shit for something this deep. I'm not killing you over something this small."

Zwei's response was clipped and monotone. The shuffling of clothing was heard and Ein held back a yelp when Zwei suddenly stuffed his gloves into their mouth.

"I apologize in advance."

That was all the warning Ein received before Zwei suddenly yanked the bolt out with a single fluid motion.

Their body tensed, shaking violently as their eyes immediately widened and their jaw clenched around the gloves. Zwei was suddenly grateful for his foresight of putting the gloves in Ein's mouth, else they might’ve bitten their tongue clean off.

Zwei worked a lot faster after that. He was fully hunched over Ein's bare torso, one hand quickly cleaning the area in the best way he could manage while the other brought the needle up. Fortunately, the size of the bolt wasn't that big, it was long and tapered without a proper arrowhead, so the hole itself wasn't very large either.

Zwei pressed the needle into Ein's skin with a practiced steadiness and curved it through as smoothly as possible. He was working off of nothing but the flashlight attached to his chestplate and tried his best to work with Ein's trembling form. When he had fully pulled the line through, he tied it three times before cutting it and moving to re-thread the needle.

When he finished he resumed his position over Ein's body, but paused again upon seeing their fists at their sides. They were clenched so tightly, their nails drew blood from their palm. Zwei furrowed hid brow and wordlessly moved their hands to his (mostly) free arm, he also spared a glance at their face, but quickly refocused on his work upon seeing it.

He would dutifully ignore the tears pooling in the corners of their clouded eyes. Their body was in the present, but Zwei could tell their mind was somewhere farther back. He didn't want to be the reason they had to relieve unpleasant memories. Ein's fingers dug bruises into his arm, but Zwei continued working.

Things were going smoothly until the last stitch. Ein's body had stopped shaking as much, allowing Zwei to work faster. However, right as he began to press the needle through for the final stitch, he heard footsteps approaching their little alcove.

Zwei quickly turned out his light and froze in place. The steps stopped besides the entrance of the space and Zwei cursed internally. Then he heard voices. Two of the patrol men were currently having a conversation outside of their cubby. There was a curtain covering the entrance that blended the opening into its surroundings, but they'd find it if they were looking.

Fuck.

Zwei couldn't stop now, they were almost done. Instead, he leaned in close to Ein, right beside their ear.

"Stay as quiet as possible. Guards outside."

Ein nodded, and Zwei moved back down to their torso. He leaned in closer, trying to see in the now dim light. He pushed the needle into the skin, but unlike the last four stitches, this one didn't go in as easily. Zwei frowned, realizing he'd have to force this one. He breathed, still able to clearly hear the guards outside.

Zwei held the skin with one hand while the other pressed the needle into it. Ein jerked at the sudden pressure, and their fingers (which had been close to relaxed) gripped his arm tightly.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺. He spoke to himself internally.

Another jab. Ein's fingers dug deeper.

𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

Another. Their body tensed.

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦.

Zwei gave one final, insistent dig before the skin gave way.

"Did you hear that?"

A small cry had escaped the muffle of the gloves. They both froze.

"Yeah, don't know where it came from though."

"But it sounded close didn't it? Kinda behind us."

Zwei's free arm pried it's way out of Ein's grip and slowly moved to the handgun on his thigh.

"What? How can you tell all that? I barely even noticed it."

"I could just, like- I could just tell alright? You don't need to sound so judgy."

"I'm not-"

"𝘏𝘦𝘺!"

A third voice, loud and authoritative, ordered the pair of guards back to their stations. Zwei let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, but he didn't dare move until the sound of footsteps had came and went. Zwei pinched his eyes closed, breathed, then opened them again. He switched the flashlight back on and finished Ein's last stitch.

After being given the clear, Ein slowly maneuvered themselves upright before zipping their suit back up and replacing their body armor. Zwei busied himself with making sure there was no trace of the two of them left in the tight space. Once done, Zwei stood and poked his head out of the opening, looking up and down the hall for any sign of a guard. Finding no one, he turned to Ein.

"Ready?"

Ein met Zwei's gaze, and if they hadn't known each other for as long as they had Zwei might’ve missed the crease in their brow or the way they bit the inside of their cheek.

(His heart ached with their pain, truly it did.)

"Yeah. Let's go."

And they went.

#creative writing #original story #writeblr #short story #whenever we are #Ein #Zwei #random prompts #random prompt combinations

1 note · View note

bougiebutchbinch · 1 year ago

Text

Oooooh this is such a fascinating concept! I suppose it depends on how AU we're making this.

I've gotta admit I'm really not fond of 'Izzy never lost his leg'. Like if people want to write/read that, I'm not gonna stop them or come yell at them about it, because I think there are valid reasons for putting that detail in an AU - especially if the author uses a prosthesis and has a lot of personal stuff they don't want to deal with while writing! But on a personal level as A Disabled.... hmmmmmm nah. Bit too close to erasure to me. There are plenty of ways to write Izzy as not having a leg, which do not involve nearly so much graphic trauma or Ed-centric misery - i.e., it was amputated as a young child after osteosarcoma, it's now pretty normalised and barely impinges his mobility, and he only vaguely remembers life with it. If people want to dodge All That Misery, they can always go with an option like that!

But this does spark some super fascinating ideas!

Discussion of disability as a result of violence below cut. CW for car crashes and gunshot wounds, as well as suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, and involuntary institutionalisation!

If it's, like, a modern day biker/gangster/cartel AU, with all the expected violence, then I vote that everything plays out in exactly the same way - Ed shoots Izzy when Izzy tries to stop him from going on a suicidal/murderous bender, the leg gets infected because they can't go to the hospital (warrants out for their arrest) and has to get lopped off in a back-alley surgery with minimal anaesthetic. You get ALL the trauma and horror, which will most likely impact on how Izzy feels about his disability! Like, obviously sudden, shocking declines in mobility are often traumatising, but all that extra baggage? Oh, my man is most likely gonna take some time to start truly accepting his new limitations and working with his disability rather than against it. That could be juicy!

But I also imagine that, like, reconciliation between them in such a violent AU might actually be easier than in, say, a coffeeshop AU....

I love the idea that Ed came out of a bar drunk after the big Blackbonnet break up and tried to get in hs car. Izzy, of course, refused to let him have the keys - but midway home a heartbroken (and, frankly, suicidal Ed) lunges for the wheel and they veer across the oncoming lane of traffic. Car flips, skids down the embankment.

Ed is in a coma for five weeks, until he wakes up with Stede sobbing by his bedside, begging him to wake up. He basks in that for a moment, before it all flashes back to him - fuck. He wasn't in the car alone.

Then he sees Izzy at the other end of the ward, hopping about with the physical therapist on his new crutch as he grumbles about finally being able to get to fucking bogs by himself again.

And he's only got one leg.

It was 100% Ed's fault, but Izzy lies to keep him out of prison and says he hit a patch of water on the road. No one was hurt other than them - but they are hurt so badly, holding onto the secret together than Ed caused this, Ed did this to Izzy, not some nameless accident. And Ed's not sure they can ever be repaired.

In the end, Ed recovers with minimal side effects. Izzy... doesn't, finding solace at the bottom of a bottle himself. Neither of them will ever quite get over it - but they might get part way, eventually.

Just - I love the idea that Ed mumbles 'sorry' to Izzy one day, and Izzy brushes it off like he does in the show. Tells Ed it was his own fault for getting in the fucking car with him at all. And really, deeply seems to believe it. Only this time, that's the cue for Ed to actually start bettering himself and putting in the long, hard work to repairing his relationship with Izzy and convincing Izzy that no he did not fucking deserve what happened to him.

Of course, because they're still Toxic Yaoi, I imagine at some point Ed tries to pull the 'cathartic eye for an eye' shtick on Izzy and dementedly tells him to lop off his own leg - or even just to punish him! - like that is all it'll take to make this better. Izzy refuses, and laughs in his face. At which Ed might legitimately try to saw his own leg off and gets committed by a panicking Stede, and everything sucks very much and everyone is miserable. But that's just the sort of juicy fic I devour (so long as it has an eventual happy ending)!!

......oh no I followed the dark!coffeeshop AU plotbunny down the rabbit hole....

I was talking to a friend about how 99% of Modern AU's don't have the crew being pirates, which means everyone's less violent. Which leads me to wonder how y'all picture Izzy's permanent injury and how he gets it. Would love reblogs for sample size!

81 notes · View notes

thepenultimateword · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, hope you’re doing amazing! Can you make a story w this prompt?

https://some-messed-up-writing-for-you.tumblr.com/post/682935933532766208/short-prompt-693

Oooo, I was eyeing that one! Thanks for the motivation to actually try something! Prompt credit goes to @some-messed-up-writing-for-you

CW: Blood, vomit, cadaver, mentions of surgery and experimentation

Hero edged rapidly along the tunnel wall, one hand crawling over the rough stone behind them, the other fisted over their stomach, a blood-slicked barrier keeping their insides in. The torchlight cast flickering shadows over their face, carving out the hollows like some starving, feral animal.

“Come here,” Supervillain said, moving in slowly, arms outstretched.

Hero lashed out with a well-aimed punch to Supervillain’s gut.

“Oof!”

Supervillain stumbled back a pace, and Hero immediately caved in with an involuntary whimper. The poor thing collapsed to their knees, breathing in and out with the desperation of someone on the point of suffocation.

That was it.

Supervillain hardened their resolve with squared shoulders and a tight jaw, seizing the hero in their arms before the could get another hit in. Hero screeched and arched their back, cold perspiration sticky against Supervillain’s forearms as they tried to escape.

Supervillain clamped down on them tighter, pressing them flush against their chest and folding over them like an ironclad lock. Their enemy was dying, no doubt about it, so why were they still so strong?

"You--ugh!--repelled down a cliff, dove into an underground lake, and crawled 10 feet through--ah!--an air pocket to chisel your way in here. Do you really think you're getting back out?"

Hero dug their nails viciously into Supervillain's wrist, drawing out five spiteful pricks of blood before finally letting themselves go limp against them.

"I...refuse...to die like this," they panted and then immediately vomited down the front of Supervillain's shirt.

Supervillain fought the impulse to drop the hero.

"You did that on purpose," they accused, shuddering at the hot bile sliding down their chest.

Hero didn't answer. When Supervillain looked back at their face, their eyes were rolled back in their head, and blood smeared the corners of their mouth.

Supervillain swore and picked up the speed, light jog becoming a full-out run. It was awkward with an unconscious hero in their arms, but they reached the elevator in under a minute. Soon they were booth zooming up toward the surface of their lair, layers of stone turning to neatly landscaped gardens and a starry night sky through the elevator's glass walls.

"RIGHTHAND!" they bellowed as they came out on the second level from the top.

Their wild-haired subordinate peeked out from their laboratory, straightening their prescription goggles as if to clarify the strange picture coming toward them.

"Who is that?"

"The transfer hero from Hillset. Group knifed'em on the way out as a distraction."

Supervillain shoved past them, pushing Righthand's current lab subject onto the floor and laying Hero down in its place on the lab table.

Righthand grimaced but simply snapped off their bloody gloves and stepped over the cadaver for a new pair.

"Why are they in a diving suit?

"Because they came in through the lake! Stop asking questions and fix them!"

"Fix them?" Righthand blinked. "You don't want me to harvest their stem cells for the Might Project?"

"Righthand," Supervillain growled.

"Alright, alright, let me see." Righthand tugged their cart of medical supplies over and began ripping up the skin-tight suit with a pair of surgical scissors.

"Geez Louise," Righthand murmured, already turning up the magnification on their goggles. "What a mess."

Supervillain wanted to ask if there was even a chance, but they'd already jumped into action, injecting anesthesia, disinfecting the area, applying microscopic stitching, etc.

"Could you tell Assistant I could use some O- blood bags and their hands?" Righthand said absently. "And then maybe check back with us in a couple hours?"

"I can come straight back and assist," Supervillain said, staring at the hero's lolled head.

"You hover," Righthand clipped. "It's distracting. Just take a shower."

Supervillain usually wouldn't allow a subordinate to speak to them in such a way, but this was not the time for discipline. Besides, Righthand never could remember what was the right or wrong way to treat their boss. It was enough that they did as they were told.

Supervillain quickly found Assistant running tests in an opposite lab, and one moment under their boss's seething gaze sent them running to help. After that Supervillain took Righthand's advice and took the elevator to the top floor where their personal residence was located.

They stripped off the foul, gory clothing and threw it straight into the wash. Then they padded down the hall to the bathroom where they set the shower to boiling. They let the steam gather a light sweat all across their skin until the chill of the underground tunnel and the hero's cold sweat faded away.

I'll have to interrogate them, Supervillain thought as they stepped into the shower and began lathering their body with shampoo. They tried hard to take their time. Find out what the heroes were after and how they got my layout.

They supposed it was the time of year to smoke out rats. It would be so much easier if their subordinates were just a little more constant. But no, no matter what Supervillain gave them, there was always one that would sell out for a few bucks.

Supervillain turned off the faucet and reached for a towel.

This hero seemed like the loyal type, they might have to push them hard to get any answers of out them.

But I should also be gentle. They've been through enough.

Supervillain froze with the towel half wrapped around them. That wasn't like them. They usually would have had a hero's teeth pulled out until they talked, no matter their condition. What was so different about this one? Was it the pathetic look of shock on their face when their own team attacked them? Their stubborn determination to die on their own terms? They were less crass than the heroes Supervillain was accustomed to. More pure.

A strange seed of protectiveness was beginning to sprout within their chest, twisting its vines staunchly around their lungs and through the valves of their heart.

Hm. Not good. But they'd leave it for now.

Supervillain finished drying themself off and changed into a pair of baggy sweats and a t-shirt, plucking a pair of slippers from their bedside before heading back to the floor below.

When they entered the lab, Assistant was sanitizing the tools and Righthand was busy cleaning up Supervillain's mess from earlier. Hero was covered with a sheet and had an IV in their arm. They didn't look great, but a little more color had returned to their cheeks.

Righthand straightened up.

"The medical ward is a little full after last night's raid, but perhaps if we moved a better bed into one of the holding cells or kept them in the lab--"

"Give them to me."

It wasn't a request, it was a command, and one that Righthand immediately complied with, unhooking the bag of fluids from their IV and moving back a step so Supervillain could bundle the hero in their arms.

"Careful with their stitches."

Supervillain glared.

"Just saying," Righthand shrugged, and began rolling the IV stand in Supervillain's footsteps. To their credit, they didn't say anything more as the elevator brought them up to the penthouse, or when Supervillain laid the hero down in their very own, king-sized bed.

Once Supervillain had fussed enough with the blankets, Righthand rehooked the IV and retreated with a little jab about salvaging their previous experiment. Before the elevator doors shut, they shot Supervillain a look that could clearly be interpreted as, "You will not disturb a patient; you will sleep on the couch."

Supervillain nodded at them. That had been the plan anyway. However, that didn't stop them from sitting on the edge of the bed and looking the hero over one last time.

At the moment they were peaceful, breathing soft and even, the space between their eyebrows only slightly crinkled. Supervillain had a feeling the trauma was going to cause more pain than the wound itself when they finally woke up.

They'd probably come from somewhere warm and fluffy where heroes were good and villains were bad and everyone had each other's back. They probably hadn't expected this city's 'every man for himself' mentality. Or that heroes were willing to make this type of murderous sacrifice for their own skins. Things would be hard for them, but eventually, they'd learn not to turn their back on anyone.

"Not even on me," Supervillain whispered. They pushed back Hero's hair from their forehead, still a little damp whether from the lake or their own sweat. "But I'll give you a freebie this time, little hero."

#hero x villain #hero x supervillain #heroes and villains community #villain #writing snippet #creative writing #heroes and villains #hero #fiction #villain x hero #betrayal #hurt/comfort

215 notes · View notes

succubratty · 3 years ago

Text

Thoughts about my surgery that has taken away my sleep for so many nights.

CW: fart kink/involuntary farts mention

The context for people who followed me recently is that I had surgery requiring general anesthesia at the end of December last year.

I was away for approximately four hours during the procedure, and I can't stop thinking:

Did I fart during surgery? Did I do something embarrassing related to my bowels? And I cannot stop feeling red with shame if something did happen.

Like, I don't know things like ripping a thunderous fart directly at the face of my surgeon, the nurses, the rest of the crew, and all of them listening to all my braps. 😩

Idk why I do this to myself thinking these things.

#embarrasing farts #gassy girl #fart kink #gassy transgirl #eproctophilia #gassy lesbian #hospital farts #fart noises #girl fart #girlfart #eprocto #farting #gassy #fart sounds #surgery farts #personal

17 notes · View notes

hoarder-of-stories-27 · 3 years ago

Text

CW: vent related to CSA, medical trauma, and physical child abuse

——

It’s so fucked up that I was what, fourteen? well into puberty! and had no idea that saying “no” to someone asking to touch me in a way I didn’t want was an option (/an actually viable option where I had any chance of being listened to, instead of the person making me suffer more on purpose).

I wouldn’t have any medical trauma if I hadn’t been brought up, my whole childhood, to expect authority figures to touch me however they wanted, with only ever sometimes the courtesy of a warning. I wouldn’t be in this situation, terrified of getting a thing (top surgery) I desperately want. I would have known to express my discomfort, that day, instead of giving the “yes” I thought was required of me. That doctor could have just skipped to explaining at-home/self breast checks instead of waiting until I was visibly panicking, it wasn’t even NECESSARY for her to touch me like that.

I still don’t know if my system’s dad was the one who touched us in ways that we processed as sexual, the memories are all weird, but moments like these make me much more comfortable confidently labeling the way he and my mom raised me as childhood sexual abuse, if not childhood sexual assault. They sure did fuck me up about consent, especially body/touch-related consent.

It’s difficult for me to label spankings as abuse. I mean, I have a high pain tolerance. I regularly got into friendly fights with my siblings that inflicted far more pain on me, and those are good memories for me. But… even if I was never physically harmed enough to feel very comfortable labeling it as physical abuse - there were never marks, and the pain receded quickly - it was still very obviously abuse. The thing that traumatized me was the violation - having choice taken away, being forced to undergo physical touch I found unpleasant and humiliating. And that is still affecting me today, and that was definitely something my parents did (often) (and still defend!)

It wasn’t just that, but I think that was the main thing that drilled into my mind “if an authority figure, or anyone imbued with authority by social rules, wants to touch you in a way you wish they wouldn’t, and you try to escape it, they will punish you extra”. (Also the general normalization of continuing to tickle someone who’s curled up into a ball and going “please stop, I don’t like this”?? What the fuck is up with that. Involuntary laughter is not consent.) And that awful doctor’s appointment was the very first time I received any sort of counter to that idea - I didn’t even verbally say anything and she stopped. I’m so, so glad she isn’t my doctor anymore - and I’m so, so grateful to her.

Anyway. I wish I weren’t so terrified of my top surgery consultation appointment. And rightfully so! I’m going to be having a panic attack the entire time. I don’t think that sort of thing would be pleasant for anyone, and - unfortunately - especially not anyone with intense chest dysphoria, but it is going to suck SO bad for me. Aah. :<

#csa /#medical /#4buse #child 4buse #long #negative #dysphoria mention #my posts #-responsible

9 notes · View notes

spookyboywhump · 4 years ago

Note

give us the bad timeline snippet

i mean, if you’re finished. if you’re not, that’s fine! not to rush you. i just meant like, i would still love to see cain comforting wren :))

wELL it’s not much but as I enter migraine territory it looks like it’s all the content I’ll have to offer y’all for a little while sO

CW: Noncon surgery, noncon kiss, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, Wren is just fucked y’all

***

Since the procedure, all he had done was cry. Not those loud, heart wrenching sobs that he used to, no, he was eerily silent now as tears streamed down his face. Nicholas had removed his voice and with it he seemed to have removed every ounce of fight and defiance left in the poor boy. Cain could hardly bear to look at him, but he also couldn’t bring himself to ignore him. After all he had done, after Wren had fought viciously against Nicholas for so long, he didn’t deserve to suffer alone, and though Cain doubted he’d want him around, he still moved to kneel by him, hesitating before putting his arm around his shoulders. He’d never been good at the whole comfort thing, but surprisingly, Wren leaned into him, hesitantly at first before suddenly clinging to him, his hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though his life depended on it.

“I… I’m… I’m sorry…” Cain said softly, though he wasn’t sure what comfort that could be to him, hoping that as he held him and gently rubbed his back he could at least somewhat calm him. Wren was taking quick, shallow breaths, the only sound he really could make anymore as he held onto him, and Cain couldn’t help but feel angry and guilty, knowing that it was his fault Nicholas ever even met Wren, knowing that if it weren’t for him, maybe Nicholas’ obsession wouldn’t have gone this far.

They both went tense when Nicholas returned, almost looking amused at the sight of his pets clinging to each other. Cain held the boy closer to him, overwhelmed with the need to protect him after what he’d gone through, but really, he didn’t have it in him to defy his master these days.

“Let him go.” He ordered, and Cain reluctantly did as he was told, separating himself from Wren who had slowly gotten his breathing under control, though his lip was still trembling and tears still pouring down his face. He stared straight ahead, almost a blank look in his eyes as Nicholas knelt down in front of him, gently tilting his chin up. Cain hated the involuntary pang of jealousy he felt when Nicholas leaned in and kissed his cheek, catching a tear on his lips.

“Why are you crying, Love?” He said, though he clearly didn’t expect an answer, “You’ll be thankful for this one day, you’ll see that I made you better.” He told him, and Wren took a slow, shaky deep breath, still refusing to look at him.

Somehow, Cain knew if he still had his voice, he would’ve been screaming.

#my writing #my oc’s #wren #cain #Nicholas #bad timeline

59 notes · View notes

punksarahreese · 4 years ago

Note

“Shh, it’s ok. I know it hurts.” for chronic pain prompt ❤️

Hehe <3

CW: pain induced panic, surgery talk, vomiting mention, opioid mention

***

"What’s on the agenda for today, Doctor Bekker?" Connor’s voice was annoyingly chipper for it being six in the morning, and Ava told him so before answering his question.

"CABG on a 64 year old with coronary artery disease, check up on my ICU patients, and a routine pacemaker battery replacement."

"Busy," he nodded, "You’re here early and you don’t have a little psych resident shadow; where’s Reese?"

"She’s not my shadow," Ava rolled her eyes, "Off today, but knowing her she’s still doing case work from home."

"Kid’s dedicated, I’ll give her that."

Ava didn’t have a chance to reply before Connor’s pager went off, calling him down to the ED. He was disappearing down the hallway in seconds, gone without a farewell. Not that Ava really cared; she did have things to do that were a lot easier when Connor wasn’t hovering.

Forty minutes later she was in the ER, grafting a coronary artery with a vessel from the patient’s leg. CABG surgeries were easy, all muscle memory at that point. It was almost soothing to Ava, a repetitive process that let her focus on familiarity. The fellow she was supposed to be mentoring was barely helping, not that she really minded; but it was something to mention to Latham if he didn’t step up his work ethic.

"Doctor Bekker," a scrub nurse had picked up Ava’s phone when it went off, "Text from Doctor Reese."

Ava glanced back at her, "If it was urgent she would call, just leave it for now." Sarah knew she had surgeries that day and wouldn’t mind a late reply. She nodded and let Ava get back to her job, the surgeon falling back into the rhythm of familiarity she had between her and the instruments.

"3-0 prolene," she was just about to close the pericardium, getting ready to finish the surgery now that her graft was working well. That’s when her phone rang, the nurse once again saying it was Sarah.

"Alright, bring it here," Ava let her answer the call and put the phone up to her ear, "Hello?"

The strained voice that answered made Ava’s heart drop, "A-Ava..."

"Sarah?" She didn’t want to say anything to hint to the people in the room that there was anything wrong, though her brain was immediately running through every worst case scenario.

"I... I’m s-sorry... to bug you."

"Don’t be ridiculous," Ava’s tone was way softer than her words, "What’s up?"

"Hurts-" a rough breath cut her off, the squeak that proceeded it making Ava wince. She hated hearing Sarah in this much pain, knowing it must be really bad if she was openly admitting to it.

"What does?"

"C-chest. Can’t... stop it."

"Sarah," Ava could feel her own heart rate pick up as she still jumped to the worst conclusion, "Do you need to come here?"

A long pause was followed by a forced, "No."

"What do you need?"

"I-," Sarah was clearly crying, whether it be out of pain or frustration, "You- please, Ava."

"Can you wait thirty minutes? I’ll need to scrub out and drive there."

"Y-yeah. I’m okay."

Ava didn’t believe that, especially not with the stifled sob that had preceded Sarah’s claim, "Okay, I’m going to hang up now; I’ll be there as soon as I can."

"‘Kay..."

She gestured for the nurse to hang up the call, thanking her. Ava shook her head when she asked what was wrong, everyone in the room clearly curious.

"Doctor Reese is just having some car trouble, I need to go pick her up," she lied smoothly, "Doctor Maxwell, you’ll close."

The fellow looked at her in alarm, clearly not expecting anything of the sort. He began to protest but Ava stopped him, holding out the forceps with a pointed look.

"When I was in your year I would jump at any chance to do a surgery. You should be honoured that I trust you to finish this one. You know how to close a sternotomy, Maxwell; you’ve done it before."

He sighed and let her pass the suture needle, looking at Ava with worry. She promised him he would do just fine, insisting that there were enough people around to make sure he did well. This was surgical resident work, he could do it.

After that, Ava quickly stepped away from the operating table and half-rushed to the scrub room. She didn’t want to worry anyone by being too hasty but she herself was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She ripped off her gloves, tossing them into the biohazard waste with her gown before going to wash her hands. It took all her willpower to avoid breaking the bar of soap out of anxiety, frustrated that her girlfriend was in pain and she wasn’t there to help.

By the time she had scrubbed out and shoved her scrub cap into her pocket, a nurse had brought her phone out to her and asked if everything was alright.

"Just fine," she replied without hesitation, "Don’t want to leave Doctor Reese waiting, it’s cold out and her car’s heater stopped working."

It was obvious that the other woman didn’t believe Ava but she knew better than to press the matter. She let Ava leave, going back to scrub so she could help Doctor Maxwell finish the surgery.

Ava made it down to the ED in record time, stopping only to grab her bag and coat from her locker. She found Connor near the nurses station, going over a chart with Natalie.

“Connor, I need a favour.”

He looked up at Ava’s voice, immediately confused because she had reverted back to her no-nonsense attitude but was unable to keep the worry off her face. The surgeon passed his tablet to Nat, saying he would be back before leading Ava off to a quieter part of the ED. It was clear in her body language that she was stressed, her shoulders tense and hands shaking slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Ava shook her head, “Personal issue, I’ve got it. Can you cover my post-ops? And the pacemaker surgery, I left Maxwell to close my CABG but I’m afraid he doesn’t have enough brain cells to do my rounds properly.”

“Ava,” Connor tried to grab her wrist to keep her attention, “Is it Reese?”

She sighed, hesitating, “Yes. Do you have this or do I need to ask Latham?”

“I’ve got it,” he replied immediately, “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I need to go, Connor.”

With that she turned to leave, barely remembering to thank him for covering for her. Her brain was running on sheer anxiety at that point, hoping Sarah was okay. She didn’t want this to be a bad pain flare because her girlfriend didn’t deserve that. Still, a part of her was hoping that’s all it was; scared at what the alternative could be.

She made it to their apartment way quicker than she should have, very thankful she did not get pulled over. She knew better than to speed but her only thought at the time was that she needed to get to Sarah.

“Sarah?”

A barely audible sound came from their bedroom, making Ava drop her bag at the door and head in that direction. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but somehow she was completely unprepared for the sight. Sarah was slumped on the floor, head resting against the wall as she curled into herself. Her hands were pressed against her upper chest, as if that was somehow helping ease the severe pain she was experiencing. The strain on her body was evident, her curls were an unruly mess and eyes bloodshot from crying, reddened cheeks streaked with tears as she looked up at Ava with a pitiful look.

“I-I’m s...sorry.”

“Hey,” Ava was on the floor with her in an instant, “Do not apologize, Sarah. I’m always here for you.”

“I just-“ another shooting pain had her crying out, “C-can’t...”

“I know, I know,” Ava soothed as she wiped a stray tear off Sarah’s cheek, “Is it normal chest pain or do you need to go to the ED?”

Ava hated that, that she had become so accustomed to chest pain where people had to ask. The normal amount of pain should be zero but for her girlfriend it was always there, lurking and waiting to make things worse.

“N-normal... costo. B-bad.”

“Okay,” Ava was a bit reassured that it was rib pain and not heart related, “How bad, love?”

Sarah’s breathing was shallow as she tried to respond, shaking her head when she couldn’t get the words out. She reached out for Ava, looking at her with a mix of pain and frustration.

Ava was there in a heartbeat, drawing her into her arms as gently as possible. She leaned against the wall to support them, letting Sarah adjust herself and decide how much contact she wanted. She didn’t hesitate to press into her girlfriend’s body, arms wrapping around her neck as she hid her face in her shoulder. She was clearly seeking comfort in the only way she could at that point, needing Ava because nothing else was helping.

“Did you take your painkillers?” Sarah had a prescription for tramadol for this kind of episode but she had a habit of not taking them even if she needed them. She didn’t want to become dependent on opioids, so she found herself saying that she would save them for a worse day. Even if she was having the worst pain flare of her life, Sarah was hesitant to medicate. Ava understood that, but she also knew that it would help immensely in this case.

“T-tried...” Sarah wheezed, “T-threw up... couldn’t... too m-much pain.”

“Okay,” Ava nodded as she smoothed down Sarah’s hair, “We can try again later. Can you take a breath for me, darling?”

Sarah looked up at her with teary eyes, trying to do as she was told and breathe evenly. It only make things worse though, the deep breath causing her chest to clench painfully. It made her cry in frustration, just wanting to be able to calm down so she could sleep. She wanted this to end, she didn’t want to live like this anymore.

“Sarah,” Ava’s voice was far away as she got lost in her pain-fogged brain, “Sarah, focus on me, okay?”

She did try, shifting a little to face her girlfriend. Ava’s hands found her face, holding her cheeks gently to keep her attention. She tried to reply, an apology on her lips again for being such a handful, but all she could manage was rough cough. It was all too much, she just wanted to sleep.

“Ava...” she couldn’t stifle the whine that followed her coughing fit, the involuntary action only jostling her rib cage more. Ava saw the way she was becoming increasingly more frustrated, which only made her cry harder; the amount of pain she was in clearly causing a major mental toll as well.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Ava said softly, pulling her a bit closer. The brunette just slumped back into her arms, giving up on trying to be strong. She couldn’t do it anymore, it was only making the pain worse. Ava knew that and she assured her she didn’t have to be strong.

“I’ve got you,” she promised, “It will pass, baby.”

It was the pained sob that escaped her after that that broke Ava’s heart. Sarah had her face buried in her neck, hands clutching at her scrub top for any semblance of security. The way her body shook and subsequently flinched at the painful movement made Ava want to cry too. Sarah didn’t deserve this; she shouldn’t have to deal with this. Still, she had to be strong when Sarah couldn’t be, it was the least she could do.

“Shh,” she soothed, “It’s okay, darling. I know it hurts.”

They stayed like that for God knows how long; it could have been hours or mere minutes. Sarah just remained pressed against her girlfriend, silent except for the occasional stifled sob if the pain got too much. Ava held her a little tighter every time, speaking reassurances and pressing gentle kisses to her head and face. It made them both feel helpless, not being able to get through a flare like this any other way. Ava would take Sarah’s pain away in a heartbeat if she could, so the fact that all she could do was watch this happen made her feel sick. She just kept promising Sarah it would pass, because she knew it would. If she could calm down and sleep she might be able to get some rest, let her body heal from the self inflicted inflammation it was battling at that moment.

Sarah tried to focus on Ava’s words, the low tone of her accent always soothing her. It still hurt, she felt like she was suffocating, but it was more bearable like this. When she could be in Ava’s arms, surrender to the pain, and let someone else be strong for her. Ava couldn’t make the pain go away, but she could be there to make Sarah feel less alone. That was something she was every grateful for, even if she couldn’t express it in the moment.

#haha I’m sad <3 #this is 100% me projecting because I wish my girlfriend was here for bad flare days 😔#long distance is wack #but at least reesker have each other 😌💕#chicago med #sarah reese #ava bekker #reesker #my aus #chronic #spoonie!sarah #my-writing #ask #anon #this is unedited :/

18 notes · View notes

gnomehaver · 7 years ago

Text

@ramblingsofthegoldenwitch

I’m going to address these three posts here because there’s no efficient way to comment on three different ask.

Please know there’s no malicious intent. The answers are ignorant, but I don’t think you’re “a bad person” because these issues are complicated. They are very serious, so serious we have to be cautious while talking about them. These things effect real people and real people face daily violence because of it. Please respect that.

CW csa, incest, medical, genital ment.

Cont. under the cut

How Kinzo identifies himself doesn’t matter in a conversation about incestuous, child sexual abuse. You’re free to HC as you’d like, but this has no relevance on who could and couldn’t be Kinzo’s potential victim(s). Kinzo projected Bice onto Beatrice II even though she was biologically different from Bice simply by being a different person. Kinzo projecting Bice onto Lion was a very real possibility. The way you interpret the gender of another person doesn’t necessarily have to do with genitalia (Ex. Straight men who date trans women are still straight). Kinzo could interpret Lion as female because he’s a reincarnation of Beatrice and assault him regardless. That wouldn’t make Kinzo “not straight”.

Genji was concerned because Kinzo’s displayed a pattern of abusing his children (not caring about their welfare) and assaulted another one of his children. He was probably concerned before the cliff incident but only after the incident was he given an opportunity to hide Sayo.

Furthermore, Sayo’s genitals couldn’t be said to be “female” or at least they probably weren’t a cosmetically constructed vagina and even if they were, it still wouldn’t matter. Sayo was only labeled as female because it was the most pragmatic way for her to cope with the loss of her sex organs. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to go into medical jargon or describe exactly what she looks like “down there”, but considering how Sayo reacted to medical textbooks, we can guess her genitals were not well passing. This goes back to my original point-- Kinzo preying upon Sayo would have nothing to do with her genitals regardless if they were “male” or “female”.

(Also, please use discretion while describing the biological aspects of people’s bodies because people obsess over the genitals of people who don’t conform to standards of society. People aren’t going to blow up whole conversations about Jessica’s genitals, so we should refrain from doing so to Sayo.)

Sayo is a person who underwent involuntary, corrective genital surgery after her genitals were mutilated. Not only intersex people undergo corrective surgeries. There have been cases similar to Sayo’s where a baby’s genitals are damaged, and the decision of surgeons was to surgically alter a baby’s genitals, without their consent or knowledge, to fit a gender they were not assigned at birth. They will then alter the infant’s birth certificates. This is often the case with infants who have penises which do not reflect standards the medical society.

The genitals of most intersex people aren’t an obstacle to their health. Intersex activists believe corrective genital surgery performed on these infants is genital mutilation. Sayo’s genitals were mutilated before the surgery, so we can’t say these experiences are the same, just vaguely similar.

#my posts #personal #umi

7 notes · View notes

dangansuffering · 5 years ago

Text

You Gotta Be Kiddin’ Me || Ch3C1 Suffering Game Pt. 4 [Feat. Selene]

Selene knew it would be coming. Eventually they’d hear their own name, have to step forward… But it’s worse, somehow, when their name passes Onryo’s lips, right after a severe injury and so soon after a death. Perhaps, though, it would be yellow, they tell themself as they nod and step forward silently.

Their arm feels heavy as they reach up, grasping the wheel, and they hesitate for just a moment before spinning. As their fingers leave the wheel, Selene presses their hand to their chest. They try to keep their expression passive as they wait, but the tension and fear is evident.

The Wheel turns, the peg at the top clicking, the lights flashing. It’s almost enough to give you a sense of deja vu when it finally catches and rocks gently to a stop on wedge that lights up… Magenta. The silhouetted symbol that appears on the wedge is in the shape of a bean, how odd, what… wait…

“Magenta. Kidney.” The robotic Wheel voice reads out. In contrast to their usual cheerful or blase reactions to the results, Onryo has gone very still, and they say nothing, seeming to be waiting for Selene’s response.

“Oh.” Selene breathes, frozen in place. They should have spun it harder, or lighter, or… The hand at their chest stays there, pressed to their pounding heart, and their other drifts to their side.

Kidney. That was intensive. That was invasive. That meant, that if, one day….. They know what it means. Yet, if they refuse and spin again… Someone else would be hurt, or might die. They themself might get something worse (and they could think of a number of things worse).

It feels as if there’s cotton in their mouth as they start to nod, slowly. Their eyes finally break away from the wheel to look at their host for a long second, then briefly to a few of their peers.

“.... Y… yes. I accept.”

As soon as Selene indicates they agree, the robots start moving to seize them. The entire scene takes on a horrible distant quality… but instead of cutting into them right in front of you the way all the other maimings have happened, Selene is bodily carried out of the room.

The screen that has previously shown executions descends from the ceiling, the image dark static for several minutes… until it flickers to show Selene strapped to the operating table in the Infirmary.

[CW: Surgery, Medical Horror, Organ Removal, Stomach Trauma, Written Gore]

It’s fairly obvious that they’re conscious and haven’t been anesthetized. Still, perhaps there’s some reassurance to be taken from the fact that they’re in a more sterile environment, and that it appears to be Dr. Winter, stepping forward with a tiny slim electric blade in hand and a medical mask over her face, who will be removing their organ. It makes sense in a way, for something like this it probably wouldn’t have been feasible for the robots to do it non-fatally.

That doesn’t make it any less unsettling to watch as she lifts their shirt and pins it out of the way, making it easy to see a medical port on their left side, not unlike the one that was on Cue’s chest. This one has a thin flexible tube connecting it to a small device hooked to the hem of their pants, but they’re turned on that side before more can be seen. Frost swabs the right side of their stomach with a dark orange disinfectant. There’s some squirming, probably involuntary, which becomes writhing as soon as the first incision is made, the blade letting out an odd hissing or humming sound, almost too quiet to notice. Frost puts a hand on their ribcage to hold them down and in place, one of the robots standing nearby rolls forward to help keep them still while she cuts.

It’s the longest, most arduous process yet, and even those of you who aren’t watching would find it difficult to ignore the screaming and sobbing. Frost’s cutting is quick and efficient, but there are a surprising amount of layers and she’s being careful not to allow for bleeding - her specialized harmonic scalpel cauterizes through vibration as it cuts. As a result the exposed flesh in Selene’s side bears an unsettling resemblance to the raw meat you might see in packages at the grocery store.

After nearly five solid minutes of increasingly horrible torture, cutting through the muscle, fat, and tissue...

[END CW]

The screen goes abruptly, mercifully dark.

#ds2 #ds2 plot post #ds2 ch3 #ds2 suffering game #ds2 ic #ds2 onryo #selene

0 notes