#healing from intestinal damage

[ofdinosanddais1]

Who knew food could taste so good when you're not constantly naseous?

[thebibliosphere]

Hope this isn't offensive (feel free to ignore if it is) but what illnesses do you have? I always see very detailed posts from you about different types of hyperspecific injuries or illnesses and I was wondering if you're just super well informed or have all of them.

Which is very helpful and cool for people who need the info, and I'm sorry if you are experiencing all those.

Oh, Christ. Right this is going to be a lot 😅

Conditions I have been diagnosed with as of 2024:

Ehlers Danlos Syndrome

Mast Cell Activation Syndrome

Dysautonomia/POTS/autonomic failure (they all mean a similar thing. I just have them all listed in my file because no one can decide what I actually have beyond “nervous system broke”)

Chronic Migraines

Hemiplegic Migraines

Cluster Headaches

Cranial Instability (caused by my EDS + neck injuries)

Trigeminal neuralgia

Occipital Neuralgia (caused by the cranial instability)

Binocular Vision Disorder

PMDD (likely linked to the MCAS)

Probably endometriosis but it’s unconfirmed.

Interstitial cystitis (definitely caused by the MCAS)

GERD (a symptom of my MCAS)

Pernicious Anemia (likely linked to the EDS and MCAS. I don’t absorb nutrients from my food as well as I should which is common when MCAS damages the GI tract.) which lead to hemolytic anemia in 2019 aka the “Almost Died For Real” year.

ADHD.

cPTSD

Dysthymia or “double depression”

“Probable ME/CFS” is in my file, but with everything else going on chronic and debilitating fatigue is pretty much unavoidable so my doctors are like 🤷🤷‍♀️

I had an intestinal perforation a few years ago that lead to severe diverticulitis that took about a year and a half to heal, but that’s healed now save for the occasional bout of nerve pain.

Uuuh… I think that’s it… (wait and see my spouse/friends chiming in with “you forgot about x”)

So yeah.

Chances are if you see me talking about it, I have it. I do sometimes talk about other conditions that I’ve learned about over the years of navigating my own stuff, but I will always defer to the lived experiences of others when it comes to their own conditions.

It’s a lot to deal with. Most of it links back to the MCAS/EDS/Autonomic failure.

Or as we like to call it: the generic trifecta of bullshit.

[rebirthgarments]

TW: Chemical w-rfare, Ab-rtion

Urgent Ask to evacuate Nara, a 🍉 disabled woman with MS who also has pancreatic cancer due to chemical w-rfare.

Support by financially contributing to her @FedUp4Palestine vetted funhnd-raizer (that I personally vetted): givebutter.com/NaraMedicalAid

+ resharing/ reposting this post!

I, Sky Cubacub- a Fed up 4 Palestine team member, have been in direct contact with Nara to get to know her and her story more over the past few days. We have become fast friends due to so many overlapping symptoms of our disabilities. Nara’s story caught my eye because I have post-viral ME/CFS which many times is a precursor to MS. I really want my disability community to show up for her to get this campaign funded that is so close to my heart so that she can continue medical treatment.

We have chatted extensively! During our chats, I found out from Nara that she had not previously had health issues until she was exposed in the white phosphorus attack in 2008. The long lasting damage and effects of phosphorus continue to compound and become more and more disabling to this day, even after 16 years.

Here is her story in her own words (edited for clarity):

“Hi I'm Nara,

I'm a cancer and multiple sclerosis patient. I need treatment, examinations, and follow-up on a regular basis, but the hospitals in which I used to follow up were bombed and the other one was turned into military barracks. All I need now is to leave Gaza for treatment, preserve my life, and live with my family in peace.

We're a family of 4, including my 12 and 7 year old children.

I had been diagnosed with a tumor in the pancreas as a result of inhaling phosphorus in a previous war. A couple years after being exposed to phosphorus, I became pregnant, and the fetus was pressing on the tumor, which drew the doctor’s attention to the cancer. My fetus was emergency aborted, and the spleen, 80% of the pancreas, and part of the small intestine were removed. I complained every now and then of a lot of pain as a result of the removal of part of the pancreas. I was having follow up care in the Turkish Friendship Hospital for hematology and tumors. But since the beginning of October, I have not been able to follow up because the hospital has turned into a military barracks.

The remaining part is talking about multiple sclerosis:

In 2018, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I had many complications, such as inflammation of the seventh nerve in the eye, the inability to walk with balance, movement with difficulty, and many symptoms. I was then required to take 12 injections every month and many medications and vitamins. I was following up at the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Yunis, but unfortunately the hospital was out of service due to the war. So for a long time I have not received any injections. MS is truly difficult and it controls my life completely, and the attacks occur in many and varied ways.”

A note about her breathing apparatus:

Because people in displacement have to wait in long queues and pay to use the bathroom, Nara had started to restrict her water intake because of a UTI she never has been able to heal from. This has created a problem with raised levels of potassium, so doctors have placed her on oxygen for fear of the potassium affecting her heart.

Goals

she needs at least $15,000 to evacuate

2 adults at $5,000 each

2 children at $2,500 each

this price is subject to increase due to the cost of registration for evacuation continuing to go up

The other money will go to the cost of treatment and living costs.

Nara chooses to stay anonymous because she has had to mask her disabilities so much that only her family knows about her MS and Cancer, so we have not linked her instagram, but we are in direct contact with her and can verify that she is who she says she is! Because of this, she cannot promote her own fundraiser, so it is our job to collectively do it for her!

[Image Description: a digital illustration by @k8deciccio of Nara, a Pal-eh-stienian woman wearing a black hijab/outfit with purple highlights. She has a breathing apparatus that is bulbous that goes in her nose. Text Reads: Help Narawith Cancer and MS Treatment, She Must Evacuate with her family of 4. $30k goal givebutter.com/NaraMedicalAid . There is a QR code in the bottom right corner that goes to her support link. The @FedUp4Palestine logo is in the top left corner.]

[tonixe]

♱ — dolor — ♱

A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with a new fic, yes I was gone for like 5 months or 3 or smth. This idea was inspired by @sinclairdoll, and his idea, here! I#bringbacktheoldnoir

WARNING: angst, sad, tw!new noir.

PAIRING: Black Noir x reader

WORD COUNTER: 865

Life was never normal after he died, you really didn't get it. Tears filled up your lashline, as you started sniffling to yourself. Your eyes staring at the photo in your hand, I mean you two were supposed to be together forever, that is what he wrote to you. Giving you sticky notes with his cute cartoony character drawn on the bottom.

You tried to hide your smile from him and ultimately failed, as your lips spread into a grin. You loved it when he drew you pictures, especially of those old Vought cartoons, you always collected every single note or picture, displaying and saving them away. But it was never the same, on the fateful day, it wasn't like it was raining, or something bad╼or maybe there was.

You would always share your feelings and opinions with Noir, voice out your deepest secrets or what was bothering you. You would have thought you did the same for him, well you tried. He was always quiet around you, I mean I guessed he couldn't help it with everything that happened to him. You thought you would live your life with him, but I guess faith had other things in mind.

There weren't any cards or a funeral for him. It was all under the wraps, just how Vought liked it. I mean being a Vought employee yourself, you would understand, no?

You saw it yourself, no secondhand point of view to see it with you. You watched with horrified, shock maybe in disbelief, watching him die. You weren't supposed to be there, nobody was supposed to be there. But you saw everything, Homelander just viciously ripping out his intestine, it was a nightmare, you wanted it to end, maybe stop him. If you did you would just be another part of the collateral damage, but you kind of wished you did do something, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you were able to be with Noir.

When he died, it felt like something you died with him, maybe your morale, your laughter, your hope...gone, it was all gone.

Time passed by you, days turning into weeks, piecing your life together but all grief consumed you whole, you were in a spiral that you didn't want to come out of, a deep depression, that all you could of though of was your past, what you could do to stop him, maybe if you stopped him from leaving you, leaving your apartment, he would have been here with you.

You looked at the ceiling with a blank stare,

But soon or later you were able to leave that dark place you were in, though the pain was still in your heart and panged. You couldn't wish for him back, it was too painful to even think about him without breaking down.

Walking down the halls of the unforsaken building you worked at, you hated, you didn't really know why you were still here. You grumbled to yourself as you walked, fixing the hems on your shirt cuffs until your eyes set themselves on a familiar person.

You were surprised by the revelation.

You wanted to cry, maybe yell, or just jump. You looked in disbelief as the very man you loved walked by you, no hug, no talking, no..nothing. Your heart yearned for anything from him, you were still shocked at how he was still alive.

You watched Black Noir, Earving die in front of your eyes, maybe it was some time of miracle. You felt your throat getting dry, your eyes watering up, and your mind was torn. By the time you knew it, you were already walking toward him, not running toward him.

"Black Noir" You called, you watched as Noir turned towards you. You felt your tears dripping down your cheeks, and you stopped in front of him. "Do I know you?" Your eyebrows furrowed, as you listened to his voice, no way..he talked. I mean he never talked in front of you or around you, maybe he was healed in some way to start talking again,

But your heart panged at the unfamiliar words he used to greet you, "You..talk?" You stammered, "You know whatever, do you remember me, Y/N" You cracked a smile in the joy that it was really happening, tears welling up in your eyes again.

You heard the man you thought was Noir curse under his breath, which confused you a bit, "Sorry, ma'am I don't think I know you" He stammered, you were able to grab his hand before he was able to walk away from you, "Please, just try to remember" You whispered, your voice breaking, you were already a mess, tears escaping you.

He quickly shook his head and took your hands off his arm, before he walked away from you, leaving you a mess on the floor.

It was cruel, a cruel twist of fate, you felt like the ground was ripped out from beneath you, it wasn't fair. You struggled to process everything that led you to this point in life, it was complete utter torment to your mind and your heart.

Your tears dribbled down from your cheek onto the floor, you didn't even process the fact you were crying.

You were alone...

heartbroken,

—and crying on the floor to yourself.

[amelizscribbles]

OK, EXPLAINING DABIS SCARRING because @good-lord-not-books asked

*note these are just my hcs and some medical research

I'm putting this under a cut because it's long as hell, and I apologize in advance for any typos or if it's confusing. I have no problem explaining further♡

His scars are hypertrophic. which 1) explains the discoloration. It's what happens when the smaller blood vessels become partially or fully obstructed with scar tissue. They typcially start off pinkish or light red. (like when he woke up from his coma.)

Typically the treatment for this is laser removal. But if you don't have access the color may naturally shift with age/as it natueally heals. But with continuous damage to the areas.. the scar will get darker as the veins and tissue is further injured (the deeper into the skin and possible muscle it damages)

most hyrpertophic scarring can take a year + to heal. but obviously Dabi just keeps making his worse. The scars themselves are cause by the body over producing collagen for wound healing and not actually being able to break all of it down.

Which leaves collagen fibers in the skin to harden and thicken. Hardened skin doesn't allow much give, lessening the skins elasticity over all. Which can be shown in the way his unscarred skin pulls along the edges where the dermal rings line said scars. (my thoughts on his staples acrually being dermal rings will be at the end)

That's not even going into the nerve damage systemically for him considering hes covered in that kind of scar. So when he says he can't feel a thing it's literal as the nerve endings are shot to shit. And that is only going into skin deep level.

Interal organ nerve damage is a whole other mess due to the scaringbeing from burns. As severe enough burns cause systemic damage. (will also go into atfer the scarring part)

His skin looks TIGHT on him. If he did have and semblance of sensation in his nerves it might feel like hella tight/dry skin. Also I think hypertrophic scars are an inflammation response to the body healing.

His body is literally misshapen from it. (and yes we love him the way he is) You can see in panels where the skin is probably softer where there's lack of muscle definition but can see where it's tighter or pulling over his arms/ shoulders/ribcage because the skins elasticity is non-existent. The instances where it's sifter looking is probably due to his body trying to retain as much body fat it can to keep healthy (or as healthy as it's going to get in his state.)

As far as it going right up to his lower lids and having zero tear ducts. that man has chronic dry eye like it's nobodies business. so itchy and possibly bleeding eyes isn't a shock. he probably has several counts of grand larceny in artificial tears alone.

Ok so as for his scaring being from burns, burns affect the whole body and how it works depending on the severity.

It can effect muscle tissue/muscle mass, bone structure and interior organs.

Given he seems to be perpetually giving himself 3rd degree + burns .. his respiratory system and cardiovascular system are probably shot to shit. Just from smoke inhalation and perpetual injury. (hypertrophic scars fill the veins with scar tissue remember) Assuming how deep the burn and scar tissue goes.

But we haven't seen him with much breathing issues so I'm assuming it's whatever. He has mentioned motion sickness and we've even seen him turning down food. So I can at least go into it's affects on his GI tract.

In the GI tract, burns can result in increased gastric secretions, reduced intestinal motility, decreased nutrient absorption, increased GI mucosal permeability, bacterial translocation and increased intra-abdominal pressure. If it's bad enough he may have ulcers or gi hemorrhaging. Severe burns also cause liver and intestinal damage.

The fact that he's been alive this long is wild if he's been homeless this whole time and just committing small crimes to not die. One thing that irritates me is when people think he would be incredibly unhygienic due to the scars and such.

Like do you understand how CLEAN you have to keep burn injuries to keep them from getting infected?? Even if it's layered over already damaged and scarred skin. He might smell like burnt flesh but I doubt he's letting wounds fester.

Yes he could probably just cauterize himself but that's still just burning burn wounds. Especially with 0% health insurance. I always assumed he kept breaking into the Todoroki family home when he knew no one would be there to do basic things to make sure he didn't die on the street over the years.

Quick add on to my thoughts on his staples just being dermal rings to homd his skin together/as a form of human Kinstugi.

They (the rings) are pretty rounded in the manga, surgical staples aren't nearly that large either so I always assumed human Kinstugi regardless of metal color (between manga gold or anime silver) and it was both decorative and necessary for his skin.

I just assumed wherever the rings weren't, it was just spots he couldn't reach.

it's also shown in the manga that he's adjusting/adding more along his scars.

als, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the term Kintsugi, it's this

Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, lit. 'golden joinery'), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The method is similar to the maki-e technique. Its the Japanese philosophy that the value of an object is not in its beauty, but in its imperfections, and that these imperfections are something to celebrate, not hide.

which I think suits his character very well when his piercings and dermal rings are gold looking in some of the colored manga art.

ok, I'll shut up now, ♡

[gaybananabread]

Hii!!! This is gonna be a long one lol and also I feel a bit weird so sorry in advance🙏🙏 had this random idea about day 11 where it was hurt/comfort, percy jackson heroes of olympus, lee!leo ler!will and leo has to stop by the infirmary after coming back to life to just make sure everything’s alright and he was having a shit day and Will notices and asks him about it and he tells Will about all the things he’d been through (throughout the books or what we’re told previously), and Will gives him a hug and is comforting him and stuff and he accidentally tks him and asks for confirmation if it’s okay and then hugs him and tks him

I KNOW THATS A LOT SO I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND IF YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS ONE OR IF YOU’D PREFER NOT TO BUT WHICHEVER WAY THAT ENDS UP BEING THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU HAVE. AGOOD DAY/geN

TickleTober Day 11 - Hug

~Uhm, HELLO?!? I LOVE this prompt! Never feel bad for giving me a lot; I love hearing y'all's ideas! (⁠ ^w^ ⁠) It's been a hot second since I've read the books, so I'm sorry if they feel OOC. This takes place in The Hidden Oracle when Leo shows up at Camp HB. Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Leo Valdez

Ler: Will Solace

Summary: Leo is feeling like flaming garbage after returning to camp. He visits Will to make sure everything inside him is how it should be. Luckily, the healer knows just how to mend his broken spirits.

Warnings: spoilers for HOO and TOA! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

“Please keep off that leg for a few days, okay? I know it feels fine, but I don't want you damaging any tissue that didn't fully heal.”

Will smiled tiredly as he sent off the last injured camper from his medical tent. The Colossus had done quite a bit of damage; he'd been helping folks almost the entire day.

With a groan, the blonde collapsed on a clean cot, running a hand down his face. He missed the sound of the tent flap opening, keeping his eyes closed.

“Uh…howdy, stranger.”

The boy jolted upwards, grabbing the nearest item and pointing it at the intruder somewhat menacingly. His face fell when he noticed that, one, he was holding a glove balloon he'd made for an upset camper, and two, Leo was the one in the opening.

“Oh…Leo! Hey, sorry about…yeah. I'm just frazzled.” Will lowered his “weapon,” hopping off the cot to greet the boy. “What's up?”

“You're cool, man. Just wanted to get a checkup, make sure all my insides came back right.” Leo chuckled, poking his own side in an attempt to lighten the mood. He and Will weren't super close; he didn't want things to be awkward.

“Right…right! How could I forget?!” Will immediately sprung up, reinvigorated by guilt and frantic panic. What if Leo's intestines didn't come back right?! It was a godly cure, and they weren't always keen on demigod safety…

“Woah- hey! It's cool, man, it's cool! You've been busy; we're good.” Leo smiled, though it was a little off-putting to Will. He seemed…less. Less excited, less energetic, less snarky.

Less himself.

After he had Leo situated on the cot, he tried to sneakily ask him how he was doing during the checkup. The fiery demigod didn't seem like the type to readily discuss his feelings.

“So how have things been since…ya know.” Will awkwardly asked as he checked Leo's reflexes. The boy's leg kicked out healthily.

“Interesting, I guess. Wish I'd gotten a cool scar or something. Would've been worth it,” Leo joked, though a small part of him was serious. A sick, bad-boy scar wouldn't have been the worst side effect.

���Hmm. Alright…” Now Will was worried; jokes like that weren't a sigh of good mental health. He'd sacrificed himself to save them, but he'd done it pretty secretively.

“Can I touch here? I need to give you a quick physical.” Will pointed to his middle, not wanting to move forward until he had consent. With Leo's nod, he continued.

“I mean, it wasn't horrid, ya know?” Leo began to ramble, trying to fill the semi-awkward silence. It was suffocating. “Sure, it hurt, but… I didn't see the underworld or anything. No real damage done!”

“Leo…” The blonde paused, furrowing his brows. Nope: that was getting addressed.

“Are you okay? Mentally, physically, all of it?”

The brunette bit his lip, feeling his eyes water. Damn it! He'd been trying so hard to stay upbeat; he'd just have to lie.

“I…” Leo's voice broke, and he cursed himself for it. Before he could bury his face in his hands and combust, a strong pair of arms wrapped around him.

“It's okay, Leo. You don't have to be perfectly happy. You're allowed to feel broken.” Will's voice was steady and soothing as he reassured the shorter boy, squeezing him just tightly enough to feel secure.

For a few minutes, Leo just melted into the embrace, letting the tears and the sounds that came with them flow. He'd been bottling up so much since he was revived, and even beforehand.

When it felt like his lungs weren't trying to kill him, Leo attempted to speak. He hated how weak his voice sounded.

“Sorry, I…yeah. Didn't mean to fall apart.” Leo's gaze fell, though quickly snapped back up when he fell Will pull away. The other boy's hands remained on his shoulders, grounding him.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, Leo. You needed to cry after literally dying and coming back to life. That's completely valid.”

How could that boy be so calming, yet make him so sad?! Leo blamed Apollo children's poetry skills.

“O-okay, okay, I get it! Quit making me all mushy, you jerk,” Leo snapped, though he instantly melted back into the hug when Will pulled him in.

“Just making sure you remember.” Will chuckled fondly, feeling a protective urge wash over him. He wanted Leo to feel safe and secure. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, actually, I do.” Leo nodded, feeling a bit surprised by himself. He usually hated talking about his feelings, but Will was such a nice friend; he felt secure enough to open up.

Leo told him about everything: his mother, the Wilderness camp, the fear of making his decision, the guilt from lying to his friends on the Argo II, the all-encompassing agony he'd endured during his death, the guilt he still felt from making his friends cry and coming back after Jason was gone.

Will listened to all of it, still holding Leo and helping him vent. While most of the content was saddening and serious, the blonde was happy Leo was getting it out.

“I just don't know what to do, ya know? How do I stop feeling so…ick?” Leo splayed his fingers out, trying to show his general unease with his hands.

“There's a few ways, though everyone copes differently. What're you hoping to feel instead of ‘ick’?” Will spoke gently, trying not to use too many big, mentally-concious words. It was still a miracle that Leo opened up at all.

“I dunno…happy, I guess? Less heavy. I wanna go back to feeling like I'm alive, rather than…well, ya know. Burdened.” Leo laughed at that; it felt weird to actually say “burdened” in context.

Will searched his mind, trying to remember something that would help. His thoughts wandered to one of Nico’s bad days, remembering how he'd cheered the boy up. That could work…

“Do you trust me?”

“What?” Leo tilted his head, wondering why Will just suddenly asked that. Random… “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Hold your arms out. If you hate it, tell me to stop, and I will.” Will's words were cryptic, of course; he didn't wanna spook Leo by outright asking for the goofy permission. He really did think it would help.

“Uh, okay?” Leo did as he was told, holding his arms out by his sides. The scenario felt vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place why.

Will wrapped his arms around Leo's middle once again, holding him close. Before the son of Hephaestus could question him, he felt ten wiggling fingers on each of his sides.

“Pfft- whahahahat?! Wihill!” Leo squirmed in place, his arms snapping down to his sides. Will's were already blocking the way, so he couldn't really protect himself from the tickles.

“What? Everyone needs a good laugh sometimes. These are a good way to lighten up.” Will shrugged, settling his chin on Leo's shoulder. He could feel the abnormal heat radiating off the boy, but it only made him even more comfy.

“S-seheheriously? Thihis is duhuhumb!” Wriggling around, Leo tried to pry Will's hands off. Thanks to their position, he could really only swipe at the blonde's forearms and complain.

“If you don't like it, just tell me to stop. You know I will.”

Ugh, that wasn't fair! Leo didn't actually want him to stop, but he was basically making him admit that! It was ruining his bad boy image!

“Shuhut uhuhup, Solace!”

That made Will's dumb grin double in size. Leo couldn't see it, but the sunshine boy was really happy that he was enjoying the tickles. One, he found another friend that enjoyed them, and two, he was actually helping Leo feel better. Two birds, one stone!

“I wonder if your ribs are ticklish…” Will thought out loud, moving his hands up to scribble on the backs of Leo's ribcage. He wasn't disappointed; belly laughter quickly replaced the giggles, filling Will's ears.

“CRAHAHAHAP!” Leo's warm hands settled on Will's shoulders, squeezing as he tried not to violently squirm. A very not-nice word slipped through his laughter, making Will gasp.

“Leo Valdez! Language!” Will pretended to be angry, doubling down on the rib tickles. Okay, maybe that was hypocritical—he’d said much worse during stressful moments—but it was too fun to pass up. “I won't tolerate profanity in my med bay!”

Leo snorted—dear gods, snorted—as the sensations intensified; he was losing control of himself. His hands were heating up more and more, and that only led to one thing.

“OHOKAHAHAY! *snort* STOHOHOP!”

Will immediately stopped the tickling, switching to rubbing gentle circles on Leo's back. His palms rubbed over the backs of the giggly boy's ribs, helping to ease the phantom sensations.

Leo flexed his hands as he calmed down, feeling the heat recede back into his arms and deep into his chest. Despite nearly losing control, he felt…really damn good.

“W-wohow.”

“See? Told you it would help.” Will's fond tone was appreciated, though it appealed to Leo's more mischievous side; he was already plotting revenge.

“Fihine, yeah, you were right.” Leo tried to be sarcastic, but the weight had been lifted off his chest. Even if it was only temporary, he felt relieved. “Thanks, Will. Seriously.”

“No problem, Leo. If you ever need another quick dose, I'm always here.” Will gave Leo's side a little poke, earning a giggly growl.

“Watch it, Solace. You've got one coming.” Leo gave the blonde one last hug before heading out of the tent, feeling ten pounds lighter than when he entered. He was definitely going to return the favor…

Will smiled, quickly sanitizing the cot Leo was on before allowing himself to fully relax. Man, that was fun; the stress from before was gone, leaving him tired, but happy.

After a few minutes of rest, he hauled himself out of his cot and went to find Nico. Some cuddles would be the perfect way to end such a busy day. And hey, maybe he'd drop a few hints about Leo's treatment.

Laughter is the best medicine, after all...

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 3 - Found

Rated M for violence, past abuse (content warning), and language.

The rogue fails a perception check.

On AO3.

Astarion has, in nearly two centuries of undeath, gotten used to a certain factor of rapid healing. Vampire lords are hard to kill, in part, due to their rapid correction of what should be catastrophic wounds knitting back together, bones snapping and cracking into place, skin stitching itself whole.

Even lowly spawn, on the verge of starvation, utilize a robust sense of urgency when healing. A broken arm lashes itself back together after a day or two. Fingernails grow all the way back in by next evening. Even torn throats or caved skulls typically don’t take more than a few days—the punishment for failing to deliver to the master is an excellent motive in that regard. One can always cover wounds with a scarf or a hat or makeup.

But none of those take into account the accursed illithid parasite currently contenting itself nibbling on his gray matter. Astarion is slower than usual, his limbs far heavier. It’s apparently altered his eyes enough that this measly cavern refuses to present itself to both his elfish and vampiric sight.

And his godsdamned shins are bruised to all the hells.

That is the fault of the boulder field that ridiculous trap dropped him into. He’s on his feet again, trying to use his soft-soled boots to gauge a path. But even his natural grace—hamstrung as it is by the tadpole—cannot save him when a rock beneath his probing foot shifts and he, once again, crashes to his knees onto more rocks.

He suspects his lower legs are more bruise than flesh at this point. It would have been smarter to crawl, he thinks now that his knees are too damaged to attempt it.

Part of him would very much like to curl up on his side and lay there. Close his useless eyes and wait for one of the others to find him. Their illustrious leader is somewhere out there—he can feel her, closer than she was. They’re allies now. And she’s the generous sort (when she’s not being ruthless).

Yet. He’s heard many a tale of the Underdark himself. Even the ghosts of whispers drifting forward from his lost boyhood. Monsters and madness, the dark and its denizens.

It would be extremely unfortunate for him if something other than their leader found him here.

He’s no stranger to pain. He despises it, but he knows a necessity. One cannot leave their own innards lying about on the stone floor of the kennels and expect them to just rearrange themselves. They have to be put back into place so that wound can be sewed mostly shut and perfumed and covered in threadbare finery.

So Astarion grimaces and forces himself back to his feet and his aching hands touch cool, dry stone instead of wet, cool intestines. Dust washes off much more easily, anyway.

The silence presses heavily on him. He keeps working his throat, as if trying to get his ears to pop. It’s oppressive. An actual weight perched like some demented hell creature upon his shoulders, broken only by the occasional drip of water in the distance.

Were he above ground, this wouldn’t overly concern him. The forest is usually quiet when he stalks about beneath the trees. The living know the unliving when they see it, and most animals, it turns out, know when a predator comes nosing.

Down here, it’s different. He can’t see. There are no trees to scale, no alleys to duck into. He can’t even properly disappear into the shadows, because everything is shadows and the creatures of the Underdark know how to see and navigate within it. He could be two feet from something made of teeth and he wouldn’t even know it—

“Eleanor?” he whispers. Even that echoes.

His knuckles pop, fingers wrapped so tight around the hilts of his knives he has to make a conscious decision to ease them before one bursts out of the socket.

No reply. Nothing moves. Water drips and the air is still and perfectly, completely black.

“Fuck,” he allows himself.

But that seems to do something. Carry just enough that something scrapes off ahead of him. Dust and stone crunch. Cloth whispers.

“Hello?” So does their leader when she finally speaks.

Astarion is so very glad of the dark in this instance, as there’s no way the human woman can see his knees almost give out (and it has nothing to do with the damned rocks).

He makes good time towards that voice. Bashes his shins, rolls both his ankles—the left one twice-over—and batters his hands.

“I’m here,” he whispers after a moment, and oh. Oh. Thank his vampiric hearing; once he’s close enough to catch the faintest tha-thud of a mortal heartbeat, he has to take a moment, hands braced against a particularly wide boulder, to gather himself. Wouldn’t do to come scrabbling out of the darkness like some beggar.

“Astarion?” She’s trying to be quiet, poor thing, but she still doesn’t account for how much better his ears are than hers. She might as well be speaking at full volume.

“Right here, darling,” he says. His feet finally hit what feels like smooth floor and he takes a few, delicate steps, tapping with his toes before placing his weight. Just his luck, he landed in the middle of some jumble, while she got plonked down as fine as can be on a gentle, little slope.

“Astarion,” she starts to say. He’s locked in on her voice and starts towards it, walking normally for the first time in what must be hours—

“Whoa, hey, stop!”

Good thing his instincts are as sharp as ever. He catches the snap of her tone before the words even start to translate, and every muscle locks. His front foot isn’t even touching the ground.

“There’s a drop off,” she says.

He takes one step back. Kneels down to run his fingers before him, and she is indeed correct. Half of his foot would have landed on open air and he literally would have plummeted down to join her face-first. How embarrassing. Good thing she was paying attention to his footfalls.

“I landed down here,” she says. “I can reach the top, but I…uh.”

He waits. Is she injured? Caught on something?

She mumbles. Even his hearing can’t decipher it.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you’re going to have to repeat that,” he says.

A moment. Then she sighs, and it’s such an irritated sound he can’t help the slight tug of a grin. She can keep her face as blank to the world as a mirror is to a vampire. But her voice and the movement of her hands tell him exactly what she’s feeling half the time. (The other half is like speaking to a brick wall, which he won’t admit; it detracts from his air of mystery).

“I do not have the arm strength to pull myself out,” she says. She articulates every word very precisely, in her foreign drawl. Which is something else she does when she’s annoyed or embarrassed. It’s almost adorable.

“Well, I suppose as your ally, it falls to me to offer you a hand up?” he says.

Oh, this is so much easier with another person to play off of.

“’Ppreciate it.”

He finds the ledge. Finds her hands swaying about in the dark. He won’t need to dig through his pack to find rope, at least.

He braces himself in a squat. Grabs her forearms as she sort of grasps at his.

“Darling, you’d better grip like you mean it if you want this to work.”

She wouldn’t touch that automaton with her hands, either.

“Right,” she says.

She doesn’t sound happy. But she does grab him back. And on the count of four—she actually starts at three like a wild person, until he explains that one counts to four before doing anything—she gives a hop. Her weight snaps through him, and he digs in his heels even as her boots scrabble as she tries to climb.

Up, up—damned tadpole; this should be easy for him—and she’s nearly free. When his damaged knee decides it can take no more abuse and gives a truly wretched pop, buckles, and gives out on him.

Another burst of pain spikes up through his spine. But that’s obliterated almost as quickly by that awful grate of his left knee.

Scraping and scuffing, and then her voice, “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

His knee is torn. Hasn’t felt that in a long while, but he recognizes it. Which, again, wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t starving and tadpoled.

“Do you have a torch in that bag of yours?” he says. A simple tear shouldn’t take too long to mend. A major one, however…

“I…” she says. And pauses for some reason. “I mean, yeah. Hold on.”

Leather rustles and then things clink around in that muffled way as she sticks her whole arm into her bag of holding. A few moments later, she hums.

“Don’t suppose you got any matches?” she says.

He taps her, finds the torch, and she lets him take it. He feels along until he finds the flammable end, holds it well out to the side, and then reaches within himself to call forth, “Ignis.”

He doesn’t have much cause to use that old cantrip, most days. Has a vague sense he’d learned it to impress some soft-eyed boy when he was barely dressed in adult clothes. He funnels the magic until it takes hold, warmth lighting in his palm.

But…but the darkness doesn’t change. He turns to face where he knows his hand is, yet there’s nothing but that black curtain over everything.

The flame starts to wither with his inattention. He brings his hand to the torch, hears the whump as it ignites, yet the blasted shadows don’t lift. At all.

Magic. This must be some sort of trap. Or part of a section of the Underdark with…with some preternatural darkness. There are spells for that. They must simply be caught in one.

“Well,” he says. “So much for that.”

His illustrious leader, beside him, says nothing. In retrospect, that was the fourth clue or so. But he’s distracted, his knee is an agony on top of an agony, so he sets down the torch and goes about gingerly tracking along the edges of the wound.

It’s bad. Misshapen. It’s not only torn, but the kneecap seems to have popped out and twisted itself at a strange angle.

He sighs and falls back to brace himself up on his hands.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any healing potions, do you?” Astarion says.

In response, the sound of a cork unstopping. She must have had it ready. It’s the second-most wonderful thing he’s heard in the last hour.

He finds his leader’s hand. Fumbles it—he can keep his own hands steady through many injuries, but after a time when those injuries don’t stop, his coordination starts to fall apart. Luckily, it’s too dark for his companion to see that. She still guides him to it and lets him take it.

It tastes like ash, as most mortal things do. He knocks it back, feels it seep through his body like those first rays of sunlight on that beach. Soft and warm and the hint of burning and danger. Healing potions don’t work on his kind. Lead to rather messy purges, actually. But he downs this one and his knee crunches and flesh and sinews all twist and pull his errant bone cap back into place. He grits his teeth as the ridiculous joint mends itself. Then it’s over and he tests it. Extends his leg and brings it back up. Still tender. Easy to damage again; he’ll have to be careful for a couple of days. But it will hold for now.

“Better,” he says, because she tends to ask things like “how are you” and “does it hurt” and “how does one kill a goddess.” He probes the joint, then traces down to his tender shins. Still battered, and that ankle seems a bit weak around the edges. “I hope you’ve got some idea to get us out of here without going the way I came in, darling. That path was rather rough for me, and if I can’t see, you don’t stand a chance.”

Again, that pause. He’s got the sense she’s doing that “gazing somberly” thing she does now and then. Mostly when she tells him not to drink the blood of a dead gur.

Then, “You can’t see?”

And perhaps he was picking up on those clues. The way she warned him about the step. The way she helped him find that bottle. The way even in perfect darkness, he should see something. What are vampires, if not creatures of the night. He’s never had trouble with that before. Not even…even then.

Because those words leave her and punch through him, his instincts shrieking. Those same instincts level his voice, twist up his tone to his usual, light mockery. “We’re in a cave, darling, and there appears to be a darkness spell, in case you hadn’t noticed?”

He picks up the useless torch and waves it about. The black air doesn’t even shift.

His leader sits quietly. Only the increase in her pulse gives her away when she says, “Astarion, that torch is lit.”

“Yes, I know,” he says. Probably more sharply than he intended to, but there’s something rising up, pulling his vocal chords tight and that horrible, fetid iron taste coats the back of his throat again. “I just lit it.”

“But you can’t see it.”

“Repeating yourself won’t change my answer, dear.”

Cloth rustles. He feels that strange intensity in the air she carries close to her skin, and the scent of her blood—still tucked safely away in her veins—wafts over his face.

“Nothing?” she says.

She’s waving at him. Treating him like some…some doddering old…hag.

“What are you getting at?” That’s a snap. He knows it. Doesn’t care.

And she stays infuriatingly calm when she says, “This cavern is filled with some kinda bio-luminescent moss. On the ceiling, anyway.”

Which only halfway makes any sense at all.

“And you got that torch lit.”

He’s still waiting for a point to this vapid conversation of one.

“You really can’t see nothing?”

A dozen different ways to cut at her with his words. But she’s his ally. His only ally. She supposed to be useful (she has been). Keep the others on his side, be a shield should that bastard come looking. And to keep an alliance, he can’t go calling her a stupid, ignorant peasant to her face.

He settles for a clipped, “No.”

She pauses. And it’s the last time. His mouth opens, because if she’s going to draw this out any longer, all bets are off and he’s going to bite something, quite literally—

“Because I can,” she says. “I saw you the second you stumbled in here. Astarion, I can see that torch.”

There’s the fear. Cold iron rushes up from his gullet as the dread seems to spear down through him and drop his guts to the floor.

Previous - Index - Next

[nunalastor]

Buckshot Anon here! At long last, it is time to talk about Alastor’s recovery period after the events of the Spawn of Evil AU (for all those who don’t know what that AU is, it basically involves Alastor suffering an ectopic pregnancy by Roo, and Lucifer helping to keep him alive. I got asked its logistics a while back, and now that's a constant).

The recovery on this is interesting because it is simultaneously pretty simple and complicated. The best place to start is with the surgery itself, because delivery would not be able to happen in a natural way, and would need to be done through surgery, though not a cesarean in the traditional way. Because the part of the small intestine the parasite child latched onto would be incredibly damaged by virtue of the warping necessary for the child to grow (which would have caused a rupture unless angelic blood has medicinal properties), the procedure would be treated as an intestinal resection surgery, where the effected area of the small intestine would be outright removed. Specifically an open surgery, making a cut of about 6-8 inches in the stomach. A cesarean would have 4-6 inches normally, so if you’re going with a happy medium, an incision of 6 inches. After the damaged area and the child are removed, the healthy parts of the small intestine on either end would be stitched or stapled together. This whole procedure would probably not take more than two hours, but could go upwards of four hours if there is damage in the surrounding areas of the intestines and other organs.

Once the surgery was finished, Alastor would on average stay in the hospital for a week, both to recover and make sure there had been no complications or damage to other organs. Some people can go home within three days, but due to the nature of the situation, he would be asked to stay longer. He would need to receive nutrition through an IV for a period of time before being allowed to go on a liquid diet. I will elaborate on that more in a minute, but there are some other things that should be brought up.

After being discharged from the hospital, Alastor would not be allowed to continue work at the hotel for another 4-6 weeks. There is some wiggle room in this, he may be able to return to work within 2-3 weeks provided that work is strictly paperwork, but anything physical he would need to wait a while to avoid reopening the stitching on his intestines and the incision area, or causing a hernia. He will also be encouraged to walk regularly every day, for reasons including:

Boosting blood flow, which helps to prevent blood clots.

Lessening his chances of illness.

Preventing a buildup of excessive abdominal scar tissue that could hinder movement and cause more blockages in the intestines. Scar tissue is something that will happen and in itself isn’t a problem, but scar tissue can and will become excessive if given the chance, and being sedentary while it is building up can make that worse.

Regaining muscle mass he would have lost from months on bedrest.

Avoiding constipation. Awkward to talk about but that is an important reason.  

Alastor also would not be allowed to have sex for 2-6 weeks. I doubt he would be heartbroken by this information. 

If angel blood truly does have a medicinal property that could heal him, he can mostly skip this part, and go straight into the complicated part.

Remember when I said I would elaborate more on the nutrition IV and the liquid diet? That’s where this comes into play. Alastor ate minimally if at all for the majority of the estimated 7.5 months (30 weeks, give or take) of pregnancy, and that makes the situation more complicated than it traditionally would be. Being generous and saying he was able to eat solids for the first 6 weeks, after which the blockage would make that very painful, and another 2 weeks would make even a liquid diet technically doable but difficult, Alastor would be living off of angel blood and nutrition IVs, specifically Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN). 

That in itself is doable. People can be TPN-dependent for upwards of three years and still have a 65-80% survival rate. It can replace eating for as long as necessary. However, there is a caveat to that. Surviving TPN-dependent is one thing, but once someone is taken off it and needs to adjust to eating again, they can be at high risk of what is called refeeding syndrome. 

Refeeding syndrome is an interesting topic with a lot of complicated factors, but the main thing to know is the body adapts quickly to having little to no food. Metabolism drastically changes, and certain organs will begin to function differently as a result. Alastor can’t immediately begin to eat like he did before all of this because his body is no longer equipped to do so. If he were to try binge-eating or even just eating something normal after being discharged from the hospital, the symptoms he would suffer vary but consistent ones tend to be seizures and coma, sometimes even cardiac arrest or respiratory failure that result in death. 

To get around this, the best way to go about it is to very gradually reintroduce food into his diet over the course of 2 weeks, starting by eating about 14-28% of the calories he would normally need, and building upwards over those few weeks. Reteaching his body how to digest food and restore a healthy intestinal tract can usually happen within 2 weeks, but when accounting for how long he wasn’t eating solid food and the damage he needs to heal from, he might be recommended to do this for 3 weeks to be on the safe side. His best bet would be light soups and maybe yogurt.

Most of this would be handled in the hospital, the process of weaning him off the TPN, by the second or third day reintroducing liquids, then soft foods. Doctors would still want to keep tabs on him for this process once discharged, and would be able to make a better judgement call with his situation specifically on when he can return to eating normally. Normally, as in a reasonable meal, not eating multiple people or even one person in one sitting, that would have to wait the 4-6 weeks after discharge.

He would need to have multiple check-ins with his primary doctor for various reasons to make sure everything is going smoothly, make sure his physical therapy and regaining of muscle mass is going well, and that he is eating properly and healing. Doctors would also be searching for any signs of stress and psychological distress that may negatively impact Alastor’s health and cause thoughts of harming the child, which would result in a postpartum depression screening and/or a post-traumatic stress disorder screening. Debates on if Alastor would even consider the child as one aside, that does not change the need to carefully monitor his mental state and try to improve his quality of life as well as prevent any loss of life or actions he may regret.  

In summary: Alastor would have an open intestinal resection surgery, spending his first week in the hospital and after that point focusing on resting while recovering muscle mass, as well as slowly reintroducing his body to food after being taken off the IV. He should be able to eat regularly (in moderation, don't eat a person) within 2-3 weeks, with the rest of his healing taking somewhere between 4-6 weeks. He would not make a full recovery for a few months, but provided his recovery goes smoothly while monitored, he could return to his daily life with minimal issue within 6 weeks. 

(Note: The stress and trauma of the whole experience could hinder recovery severely because an increase in stress causes wounds to heal significantly slower and weakens the immune system. If this happened, it would increase Alastor’s recovery time by roughly 25%, but could be increased by up to 60% depending on the severity of that stress. Prioritizing a stress-free environment would be crucial to his recovery.)

(Another note: The pregnancy duration was estimated at give or take 30 weeks, the reason for that is pregnancy weeks are weird. It’s calculated from the date of the last menstrual period, not the date of conception. Alastor does not have the equipment for having it traced the normal way, that’s half the problem, so it would be based on the objective weeks since conception. Unlike the average pregnancy where it’s a gamble if the mother knows the conception date, Alastor would undoubtedly know.)

👀

[sexfusstiefer]

How WWX was able to walk with his guts out and his core missing

So I was thinking about how WWX compared the stab he got from his and JC’s duel with the one JL gave him, claiming his new body is weaker than his old one, and I started wondering… why is it so much weaker, actually?

Yes, MXY doesn’t have a core, BUT WWX also already didn’t have a core at that time! Shouldn’t his body react to an injury like a normal human body would? It’s not like we can walk around with our guts out… Yet, he was able to simply tuck all his intestines back inside and go grocery shopping.

To that, I have three theories:

nature of the injury. Theoretically, you can walk around with your guts out if the blade just sliced the skin without damaging any internal organs. Looks gorey but is not nearly as dangerous as a deep stab wound.

residual cultivator’s strength. Since WWX was an exceptionally powerful cultivator, was it possible for him to retain some of his cultivator’s strength even after losing his core? Doesn’t really make much sense because, well, the point of destroying one’s golden core is literally to turn a cultivating superhuman into a very boring humanly normal human? JC also didn’t seem to have any extra powers in the short timespan he spent coreless. But hey, what do we know about how magic works?

demonic cultivation. That’s currently my favourite. Also doesn’t make sense since the resentful energy is the energy of the DEAD and shouldn’t have any healing powers but it’s not like I have another explanation on how WWX managed to survive the fall into Burial Mounds and came back with no broken / badly healed / deformed bones. So, I’m sticking to the "he was so full of resentful energy it helped to keep his body parts together" version. 

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies?

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

Chapter 11

Warnings: swearing, angst, injuries

Notes: I'm totally obsessed with another story and have had a rough time writing because I'm too distracted. Sorry it took so long and I hope it's not terrible.

****READ 'Unwanted' by @scoonsalicious So good, seriously****

As Rainbow was wheeled away Bucky followed until Wanda stopped him. He flashed her a dirty look and tried to keep going.

Wanda stood her ground "I know you're worried Bucky, we all are but she will be in surgery for a bit so you need to shower and eat." She gently pulled him towards the residential wing "I'll whip up something for us to eat while you clean up. Then we'll go wait together." She looked at him with a soft smile and nodded.

Bucky sighed and nodded before going to his room, rushing through a shower and throwing on some sweats and a t-shirt. When he entered the kitchen, Wanda was already filling a bowl with stew and setting two warm biscuits on the side. He sat at the table with Sam and Tony, all eating without a word or even looking at each other as they tried to process what happened. Clint had gone home to Laura and his family, to mourn his friend and the woman he thought she was.

Helen Cho and Bruce were racing to repair the damage from the knife that Nat shoved into Rainbows gut. The knife was long, wide and serrated on one side so did more damage coming out than going in. Rainbow died again on the operating table and needed 2 pints of blood.

Once she wasn't bleeding out anymore Helen worked on the multiple cuts all over her face and body. Then she transferred Rainbow to the cradle to help her body heal itself.

It had been a few hours since they landed, everyone had eaten and most of the team was in the waiting area outside of the med bay when Helen came out with an update. All eyes turned to her.

Helen tried to smile reassuringly "Y/N is stable and has been moved to the cradle to help accelerate her healing. We had to remove her appendix and some of her large intestine but not enough to cause any long term problems. One of her ovaries was nicked and I tried but couldn't save it. That will affect her future fertility. We will have to see how she heals since she was given a version of super soldier serum. She will be unable to do any strenuous activity for at least a month. The first week or two will be on bed rest and a soft diet so someone will have to play nursemaid."

Everyone, including Helen, looked at Bucky who blushed and shrugged "Obviously I'm gonna take care of her, no question." He looked up at Helen "Can I see her?"

Helen nodded "Just for a few minutes until she is out of the cradle."

Bucky went to see her and he was glad to see that her color was improving. "I can't stay for long doll but I'll come see you when you can leave the cradle. I'll be in the waiting room, if you need anything."

He stared at her for a few minutes, his heart aching at the thought of how close he came to losing her.

Bucky went back to sit in the waiting room, just staring at the wall until Friday spoke up "Mr Stark? Captain Rogers is asking for you and threatening to tear his door off. Shall I tell him you're unavailable?"

Tony sighed and shook his head "No, I'll go talk to him. This oughta be fun."

Sam quickly stood, "I'll go with you." He patted Bucky's shoulder on their way out reassuring him "We got this."

When they arrived at Steve's room he could be heard yelling but they couldn't understand what he was saying.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose "Alright Friday, open up."

As soon as the door opened Steve tried to push his way past Tony and Sam who pushed him back into the room.

Steve was obviously pissed "What the fuck Tony? You hit me with a tranq dart and lock me in here for 2 days? What's going on? Did you find them? Is Natasha alright? I mean did she hurt Y/N?"

Tony scoffed "Don't be such a drama queen Capsicle, first it's barely been 24 hours. Second, it's telling that you asked about Nat first. We found them, Y/N is alive and out of surgery but will take awhile to heal. Nat is gone."

Steve tried to rein his temper in "What do you mean Nat's gone? Did she get away from you?" He almost sounded hopeful.

"Gone as in never coming back. She's dead and I can't bring myself to feel sad about it."

Steves eyes narrowed and "You killed her? What the fuck happened, Tony? How could you do that to her?"

Tony sighed "I didn't personally kill her but after what she did to Y/N and the absolute lack of remorse for the damage she caused the team, there wasn't much choice. Having her in the wind and able to come back and cause more trouble didn't seem like a great option."

Steve laughed sadly "Of course it wasn't you, you don't have the nerve to do something like that. Bucky did it, didn't he?" He clenched his fists.

Tony shrugged "Doesn't really matter at this point. She's gone and won't be back. Now we need to focus on Rainbow, she has a lot of healing to do."

Steve nodded "I'll go down to see her and-"

Sam shook his head "No, man, that's not happening. You need to leave her alone, you've already caused her enough trauma."

Tony nodded "Friday, please allow Rogers access to his room, the gym and the common area but absolutely not the med bay or Rainbows room."

"Of course Mr Stark."

Steve glared at both of them "You can't keep me away from her forever."

Tony smirked "Not forever, just until she's healed enough to join the discussion about your status in the team. Hopefully in a week or two."

"My status with the team? You gonna try to boot me too? I'll talk to Fury. I'm not going anywhere."

"Sure Cap. We'll see what the team decides."

Steve grumbled and went back into his room to sulk and plot. He spent the next few days stewing and working out, trying to find the angle to keep his place on the Avengers.

Rainbow was transferred from the cradle to a regular bed later that day and Bucky didn't leave her side, anxiously waiting for her to wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N felt herself being dragged awake, like being pulled out of molasses, heard a beeping sound and smelled bleach. She felt lingering pain in her stomach and groaned before realizing that someone was holding her hand. She squeezed the hand and tried to speak which made her cough. She tried to open her eyes but it was too bright.

Then she heard him "Rainbow? Doll? Are you awake honey?"

She nodded and opened her eyes, squinting immediately "mmhhmm."

Everything was still fuzzy when she saw a blur with brown hair in front of her. She blinked a few times until she could see his ocean blue eyes looking her over.

Trying to ask for a drink made her cough again.

Bucky sat up and offered a straw for her to drink from. "Easy sweetheart, just sip so you don't shock your system."

Rainbow drank most of the water before trying to speak again, she looked him over carefully, noticing the tears in his eyes "Are you ok, Jamie?"

She closed her eyes as her head throbbed "I don't, I can't I....what happened?? I remember dancing and then. I was floating? Then pain."

Bucky squeezed her hands and chuckled softly "You've been out for almost a week and are worried about me? I'm just happy you're ok, you scared the Hell outta me doll. We almost lost you."

His voice choked.

Rainbow reached out to caress his cheek, feeling butterflies from how his eyes closed and he leaned into her touch.

"I'm ok I think. Still hurt in my belly. And my face feels tight." She paused to touch her face gently, there were multiple healing cuts "What happened? I really don't remember."

Bucky sighed "Dr Cho will be here in a minute. She can tell you the details but the short story is Nat kidnapped and tortured you, we saved you."

"What about Nat?" She asked quietly.

Bucky rubbed her hand "You don't have to worry about her any more."

Rainbows brow furrowed "What do you mean by that? Buck-"

Helen Cho entered the room "Hello Y/N, it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Y/N shrugged "Apparently like I was tortured by a crazy Russian assassin."

Helen chuckled "That's a fair assessment. What do you remember?"

"Nothing really. Dancing, floating, pain."

Helen nodded "Yes. You were drugged at the gala and she took you away to torture you. I've been told there were no demands made, she just wanted to hurt you. She pulled all your nails, made a number of incisions and impaled a large hunting knife into your torso."

Rainbow paled a little as a hazy image of Nat standing over her wondering if Bucky would still like her damaged, flashed behind her eyes. She felt her mind and her heart speed up, she started hyperventilating until Bucky soothed her "Rainbow, hey it's your Jamie. doll you're ok. It's all over and your safe back at the compound. I've got you. Just breathe with me."

Rainbow latched onto his voice and let it flow thru and calm her.

Helen made a note in her chart "I'm going to refer you for counseling, going through something like this can cause PTSD. We need to be sure you're ok before returning to active duty.

As far as the physical damage, your nails will grow back fine, the cuts on your face should heal without scarring. Your abdomen was a little more difficult but you're healing very well. The only really long term damage was the ovary that was nicked. I couldn't repair it and had to remove it. Now, you still have one left so should still be able to have kids if you want but it will be a little more difficult."

Rainbow sat quietly and took it all in, feeling overwhelmed.

Helen tried to reassure her "I know it seems like a lot but we'll take one step at a time and you'll be out chasing bad guys before you know it." She smiled at Bucky "You're lucky to have a very attentive and dedicated nurse."

Bucky blushed "Only right for a man to take care of his best girl."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks had passed since Rainbow woke up and she was back in her own room one morning when Tony came in to talk to her. "Looking good kid, I hear you're healing faster than expected.

Rainbow smiled "Well I have a top notch doctor, a very attentive nurse and the best health coverage in town."

Tony chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck "I hate to interrupt all the laying around and being waited on hand and foot but we need to have a team meeting to discuss Rogers. You're part of the team and the one most affected by his actions so we'd really like your input."

He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled "I knew we would need to deal with that whole thing eventually and it's not like I'm busy so just say when."

Tony smiled "Atta girl. Is lunch today ok? He won't be joining us until a decision is made."

She sighed "Sure, I just need to get cleaned up. What's for lunch?"

"Anything you want, doll." Bucky tossed out as he walked into her room, really it was their room but he still had his room even though he never slept there.

Tony glared at Bucky but it was a softer glare than he used to give the super soldier "No tinman, we're having a lunch/team meeting to discuss the status of your buddy as an Avenger. So let your girl take a shower and we'll see you in the dining room." Tony quickly left, calling Pepper to have her order lunch.

Bucky went to help Rainbow stand up, she took the hand offered with soft protests "Bucky, I'm almost better you don't need to wait on me hand and foot any more."

He pulled her up and close to him, kissing her softly before responding "Yeah but what if I want to wait on you hand and foot? What if I want my hands on you all the time? What if I want my hands, and my mouth, on every part of you all the time? Then what do we do doll?"

His eyes turned stormy.

Rainbow felt her face heat up and hoped Bucky didn't notice. "I seem to recall promises of a proper date and romancing." She flirted "We will have to find a way to accommodate you but let's get this meeting over with."

Bucky smiled "As you wish, muya lobov."

@vicmc624

Chapter 12

[peliginspeaks]

Ok I'm making this a different post than the disability month one so I can ramble because I don't think most players (and Failbetter tbh) appreciate how much kataleptic toxicology would fuck up your digestive system With A Vengeance. Like, if you're ingesting poisons on a regular basis that's wreaking havoc on your liver and kidneys of course, but I'd imagine it'd also damage your intestines and stomach lining in the same way Celiac or an inflammatory bowel disease would.

A character who specializes in KT would (barring healing in Parabola or Shapeling Arts intervention) probably end up with nutrient absorption problems long-term, if not chronic pain and/or bleeding from inflammation and scarring. The only reason Hallowrove's been getting away with their level of routine poison-chugging is that their Rubbery friend who likes to homoerotically vivisect them sometimes (Scaleflats) just replaces or repairs whatever's damaged and shores up whatever needs to work more efficiently. I am holding an invisible gun on this guy 24/7 and that gun is labeled Consequences Of Your Actions and the only thing stopping me from pulling the trigger (other than not wanting to project even more than I already am lol) is this squid.

[pittedcasket]

ramblings from discord I just copy and pasted cuz I need people to understand why I HC Marcy with the y-incision vivisection scar

Marcy by all means shouldn't be able to walk after they got stabbed

That was literally directly over the spine, even if it was off there would still be damage to the spine to some extent That's not even including the internal damage

Like

Around that area

Dead ass they should be dead

Sure the blade looks to be made of fire, but that's arguably worse as it'll cartelize the wound making it hinder the healing.

Through the spine which includes the bundling of vital nerves n shit. Through the right side of the heart including the superior/inferior vena cava and the aorta.

Possibly hitting both lungs depending on how thick the sword is it's hard to tell. Then also the liver and maybe stomach. I don't think it goes inferior enough to reach the large let alone small intestines. But after that it would have to go back through the sternum. I'd say the sword in general is closely sternum size/placement.

They shouldn't be alive let alone is such well condition after. The time it took them to get to the tank would've been enough for their brain to become oxygen starved. Brain damage at best.

A good part of the superior/inferior vena cava would have to be replaced maybe a bit of the heart.

There's a good chunk of technology that we have now that could make it so a total replacement wouldn't be needed

That is if Marcy was in a first world hospital and not a world of frogs

The heart is such a magnificent structure of muscle

Anyway!

Liver can repair quite a bit of itself without much issues if I remember correctly

For the sternum mmm

I'm not even sure how much of it would make it. Like the force it would take to get the sword all the way through would be enough to break ribs. But like I said about it being close to the same size/placement of the sternum it would just kinda ether push it out or incinerate it?

That brings up the question of where all this displaced matter is going. If it were a normal sword a good chunk would just be pushed out of the way. But one of flame that could theoretically cauterize ok contact would have to be burning the content away.

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 7

*angst, language, violence, dug use, hospital stay*

Part 7

From silence to soft beepings, you slowly begin to open your eyes. You take in your surroundings and see that you’re in a hospital bed, covered with thin blue blanket, wires protruding from the hospital gown and hooked up to cardiac monitors. Your arm felt itchy and when you went to scratch, you saw an IV line connected. In the corner of the sectioned-off room sleeping in a chair was Butcher. He looks like he was ridden hard and put away wet, his furrowed brow and scowl appeared to be a permanent look on his face. You went to sit yourself up, and a dull pain throbbed in your abdomen. Just before you peel back the blankets to inspect your belly, the curtains are gently peeled back.

“Oh my god!” The nurse exclaims. Butcher wakes up and nearly leaps out of the chair, eyes wildly scanning the room. His eyes land on you, and you see the tension released from his features. “I’ll fetch the doctor.” The nurse rushes away. Butcher slowly approaches you and pulls the chair up to the side of the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Just pieces. I remember there as a blast and a sharp pain. I helped MM, he was unconscious and woke up, then I blacked out.”

“Holy shit.” The two of you turn your attention to the doctor that just walked into the room. “Pardon me. Do you have any idea how lucky you are Mrs. Butcher?” Your eyes go wide with the name. You look at Butcher and his eyes are cast down towards the floor. You look back at the doctor,

“No, please explain.”

“You suffered a penetrating wound to your abdomen from some wooden debris. At some point, your husband tells us that the object was knocked further into the soft tissue. When you were brought here, we attempted to stabilize you but, in the end, we had to rush you to surgery. The object narrowly missed your major blood vessels but perforated your large intestine and we had to resect the damaged tissue. With the intestinal perforation we expected peritonitis to occur, which it did. We placed you on IV fluids and antibiotics to help destroy the infection and to prevent dehydration. Due to your body’s reaction to shock and the damage from the debris, we estimated your prognosis to be grim, but here you are, a miracle of God.”

“If that cunt existed and did his job, she wouldn’t be hurt in the first place.” The doctor looked at Butcher, flabbergasted.

“I’m sorry, what I meant was it's almost like… never mind. I'm glad you're doing well. I’d like to run some additional tests just to make sure the infection is gone and your heart is okay. We’ll be back in a moment.” The doctor and nurse step out of the room. You twist your hands in your lap.

“Mrs. Butcher huh?” Butcher chuckles.

“They needed a last name.”

“So, you gave them yours?”

“Hmph.” Silence fell between the two of you.

“How long have I been here?” Butcher stressfully rubs his beard.

“Butcher, how long have I been in the hospital?”

“… Three days.”

“Three days! There’s no way I can heal from a trauma like that in three days!”

“What about your powers? Don’t you have accelerated healing and all that?”

“Don’t you remember what happened to Kimiko after she jumped in front of Ben, I mean, Soldier Boy? She was hospitalized and she lost her powers. There’s no way that I still have my powers after a blast like that.”

“She also stepped right in front of him where you were in the other room.” Butcher got up and slid his chair back into the corner. He threw his trench coat on and avoided eye contact.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I told you everythin’.”

“No, you’re hiding something. What is it?” Butchers face twists in affliction. He mumbles something.

“What?”

“I said, I gave you Temp-V.”

“You… why?” Butcher sighs and sits down on the chair again, head in his palms he laments,

“When those cunts said that you were gonna die and to prepare myself, I couldn’t let it happen. I snuck in here after hours and filled your IV bag with a vial of Temp-V.”

“Why would you do that? I thought you hated supes.”

“ The boys love you too much, it would destroy 'em. We couldn't lose you again, I couldn’t lose you again.” Butcher's voice cracked and his hard exterior softened, he started shuffling his feet on the floor. He had a look on his face that he wanted to tell you something.

“Billy…” Then *ping* his phone went off.

“Okay Mrs. Butcher I’m just going to grab some blood samples and run an EKG, when those results are back and if everything looks good, you can go home to rest.” Butcher clicked off his phone and approached the side of your hospital bed.

“I gotta go. Grace will come pick you up and she’ll take you back to hers. I’ll come to check on ya after I'm done.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta work love.” Butcher leans down and gives you a peck on the forehead. The butterflies in your stomach started fluttering. “I’ll see ya later. Oh, by the way, you’ll want this for later. When the medicine wears off.” Butcher slides a small baggie under the blanket giving you a knowing look.

“From my experience, it’s worse than any hangover.” He calls out as he leaves the room. The nurse turns to you and smiles.

“Men am I right? Always so dramatic about everything. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine getting of the IV meds. Worst case, you develop a little diarrhea.” If only she knew…

*

Staying at Graces house was incredibly relaxing. Staying out in the middle of nowhere, away from all the hustle and bustle listening to the sounds of the birds and the rustling of the trees. You set your bags in your designated room and made your way to the kitchen and sat at the counter. Grace enters the room,

“Sorry, I don’t have dinner made. Butcher sprang this on me.”

“Oh no it’s fine. Thank you for letting me crash here. I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the only one out of those guys I can tolerate. Just promise me you won’t bring any bullshit to my house.”

“Oh, I promise.”

“Okay well, I’m going to bed. Help yourself to anything you find.”

“Good night, Grace. Oh! Maybe tomorrow we can go bird watching. I hear the wood thrush are around this time of year.”

“I’d like that.”

*

You ran to the bathroom, flipped the lid up on the toilet and vomited a bright neon green substance. You felt a searing migraine through your head suddenly and it hurt to keep your eyes open. Sweat was forming on your brow and chills bolted through your body. Your hands began to shake. You vomited again in the toilet. Grace came into the bathroom and attempted to get you up off the floor next to the toilet.

“I told Butcher not to do it, the jackass.”

“If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead.” Grace gently placed you on the soft mattress. She left the room to only come back with a glass of water, a puke bowl and the plastic baggie Butcher gave you earlier.

“Here, drink this.” You sipped on the cool water. Grace took one joint out of the baggie and lit it. “Smoke this, it will help.” You took a drag and held it in your lungs for a moment, then exhaled. A few more drags and the nausea subsided. You drank the rest of the glass of water and laid down in bed; sleep found you shortly after.

*

Sitting in the rocking chair on the back porch, looking out towards the wilderness, emerald trees as far as the eye can see. The withdrawal of the Temp-V from the night before has gone away with multiple glasses of water, Tylenol, and pot. Grace went to the store to grab more groceries, so it was completely quiet, besides the birds singing their hearts out. You begin to doze off, missing the crunching of gravel of an approaching car. A car door slammed, and heavy footsteps approached the wooden deck. You become alert and jump up from your spot on the rocking chair. You see Butcher approaching,

“Is everything o-” Butcher leans down and gently locks his lips with yours. You froze. You were not expecting this, but you kissed him back with as much gentleness. The two of you separate from the kiss, heavily panting.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

“Where’s Grace?”

“She’s out running errands.” Butcher leans down and scoops you into his arms and carries you to your bedroom bridal style.

@deans-spinster-witch@butchers-girl@syrma-sensei@xmariakx

[redemn]

i've been wanting to write this up and keep forgetting to when i have time ,   but i just remembered and i won't squander the opportunity .   but i want to talk a bit about arthur's suffering at the hands of the o'driscolls ,   and then his later impairments caused by the experience .

first of all ,   the wounds he sustained while he was being kidnapped and torture .   he firstly sustained one huge blow to his head when they first knocked him out ,   and then several more to knock him out as he was being taken to their camp .   in the middle of the trip ,   when he tried to escape ,   they also shot him in the non-dominant shoulder at point blank ,   and the sound of the blast also knocked him out cold again .   at the camp ,   they strung him up upside down and hit him .   though the journey and the amount of time they had him prisoner aren't clear ,   i'd like to say it was a good hour before arthur could finally swing and cut himself down .   in that time ,   he had a tremendous strain put on his eyes and his heart and lungs   ( this ordeal and ,   later ,   the weakened immune system as it worked to heal him exacerbated and ultimately catapulted his tuberculosis infection into active tb )   that caused his blood pressure to drop ,   and caused him to begin temporarily losing his vision .   he can barely see when he finally manages to escape .   it's adrenaline that keeps him from passing out until he's on his horse and running .

the last conditions he has because of this .   it took him a handful of weeks ,   probably at least a month and a half ,   back with the gang before he was finally well enough to get back up and on his feet .   his vision did not clear up for a few days after his return ,   and his shoulder took much longer to heal to the point where he could use his arm properly .   that said ,   he cannot lift his left arm very high all the way up .   i like to think susan grimshaw knew that he wouldn't be able to work his arm well if he didn't exercise it ,   so she absolutely made him do physically therapy and stretches even in pain so that it didn't atrophy and heal wrong .   luckily ,   that's not the arm he primarily uses to shoot .   he used to be able to wield double revolvers/pistols when he needed to ,   but after colm ,   he only shoots with his right .   he did also suffer a bit of internalised bleeding around his stomach and intestines from blunt trauma .   outwardly it manifested as a lot of bruising .   sorry but he did also suffer from some blood in his stool and couldn't hold much food down for over half a month before that began to clear up .   he also suffers from occasional ocular headaches that rarely develop into migraines .   these can cause him to stop what he's doing for a while if it's bad enough .

he also ends up with irreversible damage to his left eardrum after that shot into his shoulder at point blank .   cannot believe i forgot to mention that because the gunshot went off so close to his head   ( to the point of knocking him out ),   it also essentially blasted his eardrum apart ,   causing immediate and permanent hearing loss .   he can still hear from his right ,   it was only ringing for a couple weeks before it eventually subsided .   but he cannot hear out of his left ear anymore after the incident .   he doesn't talk about it because he doesn't want anyone bringing it up ,   but there are signs : he's slow to react to sounds on his left side ,   and he only sleeps on his back or with his head turned to point his right ear up .

[i-eat-worlds]

I wish you would write a fic where an immortal (vampire, angel, elf, etc) got disemboweled?

-Abraham ♡♡♡

Here’s some disembowelment for dismemberment!

cw: evisceration, medical whump and torture, suicide ideation and wishing for death, vague religious vibes, dissociation

“You know, I’ve always wondered what was inside one of you.” The demon smiled widely as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, bright surgical lights glinting off his pointed teeth. “Do angels even have intestines? Or are they too perfect to shit?”

The angel squirmed against the restraints, cold metal pressing into their back, heart pounding with fear. Their breaths were too deep and too fast, but they still couldn’t get enough air. It felt like their throat was closing up. The strip of cloth stuffed in their mouth wasn’t helping either. The demon plucked a scalpel from the table. “Let’s find out.” With no warning, he pushed the scalpel into the angel’s skin, cutting a semi-circle across their abdomen. They gasped in pain, cries garbled by the gag. The edges of the wound burned as he cut deeper, passing through the fat and into the muscle. Oh, god, it hurt. Their back arched o the table, and their limbs pulled against the restraints as they tried to push themselves away from the demon's knife. “Oh calm down, it’s not like you’re going to die.” He taunted as he plunged his hands into the incision and tore their abdomen open.

The angel shrieked, tears falling down their cheeks. It was true though, they could feel the divine already trying to knit their body back together. Light pulsed through their veins, trying to pull their skin back across the gaping wound. “How pretty,” The demon cooed as he wrapped a loop of their intestine around his finger. His gown was splattered with blood and tissue, sleeves absolutely soaked. He was elbow deep in their abdominal cavity. The angel would’ve been disturbed by this, but all they could feel was the piercing, all-consuming agony that saturated every fiber of their being. Black dots started to cloud their vision, but before they could pass out the divine dragged them back. Their voice was hoarse from screaming, but they couldn’t stop. “You really ought to see how beautiful they are,” he said, and the angel braced themself for the onslaught they knew was coming. It didn’t matter. Nothing could prepare them for the demon wrapping his hands around several loops of intestine and pulling.

His fingers dug into the mesentery, tearing their intestines free. Pain spread out across their lower back, and blood gushed into the now empty cavity. “Take a look,” he sneered as held their intestines close to their face. They wanted to die.

They wanted to die and they couldn’t.

They wanted to die and they weren’t allowed to.

The divine was straining to heal their damaged intestines and surrounding vasculature, but there was little it could do in the face of such overwhelming damage. They could feel their brain starting to detach from their body, pain numbing as their eyes turned vacant and their jaw went slack. A least the divine couldn’t stop them does disassociating. It wasn’t death, but it was as close as they would ever get.

[thenixkat]

I do have many questions about the setting of Kaiju no. 8:

what do they do with all the kaiju bits that don't get repurposed into tech? Like there's so fucking much are you really telling me it just goes to a landfill? That's so wasteful.

I mean it. I dont think that every kaiju's meat is necessarily inedible. You could make so much animal feed with one giant kaiju. There's manure potential from the intestines, turn the bones and blood into meal for crops. Turn bones into structures for reef building! Or slowing erosion on shore lines!

how long do kaiju live naturally? How quickly do they mature under normal circumstances? We see that at least some come up to the surface as part of their reproductive cycle. And I assume some come up for feeding opportunities. But it seems like most spend a good chunk of their lives minding their own business underground or in the ocean.

How common or rare are sapient kaiju? or hybrids like Kafka? Like, I don't have any reason to believe that the two are unique. Also that whole some people's cells can synchronize/are compatible with kaiju tissue makes me think that kaiju hybrids are probably a thing or would be a thing if folks were really wanted to experiment with stuff

It's so weird to me that people in the setting don't seem to care much for learning about kaiju other than how to kill them, how they form, and how to use their bits to kill them better and keep slayers live. And even then that most of the soldiers don't really know much about the different types of kaijus' weak points and how best to kill certain types. It's so weird. Like? Is there really no research being done on kaiju ecology and communication? Are the folks that kill kaiju for a living really not even trying to memorize the best methods to kill certain kinds of kaiju?

so what do the anti kaiju forces of other countries look like? We know there's kaiju killing schools outside of Japan. And while Japan is the number one in the world for kaiju to show up its not the only place with fault lines near by, so other countries especially those on the Ring of Fire have to deal with kaiju too.

how many Defence Force soldiers have to retire due to the brain damage they are clearly acquiring from overclocking their suits that are neuro linked? Cause there's been a lot of fuckers bleeding from the nose and eyes and cooking their brains in the more serious fights in the most current chapters. Healing tech is only going to do so much to help with repeated injuries but after a certain point their brains are not gonna be functioning properly which would probably mean a sharp decline of their unleashed combat potential alsone with so many other potential issues.

(Granted most probably die young from being outright killed by kaiju or falling debris)

how the fuck does the kaiju-based healing tech work exactly?

what caused the kaiju to trend towards attaining giant sizes in the past decade?

how intelligent are the nonsapient kaiju? Like I assume Kafka's bug isn't sapient, but it could communicate in short sentences telepathically. And we see other beastly kaiju having questioning and shocked reactions to what the people fighting them were doing.

how the fuck do pressure and heat deep underground make superpowered alien critters with color out of space energy generator organs. Also how do failed kaiju exist? What alien ass substances turn normal critters into superpowered monsters?