#hysterectomy WHEN. please god

[californiaquail]

i'm about to break into my expired dental surgery vicodin stash boys

[fingertipsmp3]

No one really talks about how the first period you have after fully coming off birth control will absolutely fuck you up

[buttdumplin]

One week post hysterectomy and you're ready to pull out your hair and theirs. Ale and Rudy can help.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc latine!reader, established relationship, mexican slang, spanish-speaking reader word count: 1620

You don’t often have to remind yourself how much you love your partners, how you cherish them, because it comes so naturally. But with the hovering and the near constant check-ins and the way they won’t let you even walk on your own, you have to recite a mantra about it so you don’t pull out your own hair.

“Yall realize that 6-8 weeks of recovery does not mean 6-8 weeks of being bed bound, right?”

John is almost too quick to answer, “Hasn’t even been a full week yet. You need to take it slow.”

“None of you ever take it this slow when you’re injured.”

“None of us have to deal with that major of a surgery usually.”

There’s plenty of pillows around you, you can chuck one at his head without it affecting your posture. You spend a second looking for the right one to throw, but the pillows John bought you are slightly bigger than what you can currently lift. Motherfucker has the gall to grin at you, proud of himself.

Needing to at least exit the room, you wiggle around in the nest of pillows as much as you can without hurting yourself. A too hard lunge makes you gasp and Simon appears at your side, reaching in with strong arms to pull you free from the tender trap. You sit him down once you’re on your feet, motioning for him to stay there. You can make the walk to the bathroom. You should make the walk to the bathroom. You need to make the walk to the bathroom.

“Remember not to strain yourself,” he calls from the bed, edge in his voice making it clear that he’s only barely able to stay where you left him.

Any other time, any other one of them, you’d be turning and mocking them with an “okay mom.” In fact, you still want to with all the careful tiptoeing, but when you turn and find those big brown eyes full of soft concern, the anger dissipates. Simon is in uncharted waters, feeling helpless and clinging to what he can do for you. His hands clutch the bedding under him, knuckles turned white.

You answer him softly, “I will Moncho, thank you.”

As silent as he is, you know he’s standing outside the door the moment you close it, waiting for your call should you need him. It’s usually not a problem, but having to swear to no locked doors for the foreseeable future makes you move carefully in the bathroom. The last thing you need right now is to grunt a little too loudly and scare Simon. 

“You know you don’t all have to stay housebound, right?” you try to keep your tone friendly as you open the door. “Yall can take turns stepping out for groceries or snacks.”

“Everything delivers now, love,” Kyle sounds a little too smiley for your liking right now.

“I just don’t want yall to get bored, cooped up.”

Johnny’s laughter drifts in from the kitchen, “Please, we’d stay home every day if we could. Delighted we can now.”

There has to be fucking something. They’re sweet, they’re lovely. The surgery and recovery would be impossible without them. But there has the be some fucking way to not have all eyes on you every minute of every day. You ease back into the plush nest made for you, trying to drum something up. Thankfully, the sound of the doorbell saves you from spiraling deeper into your frustration.

“Damn, yall really did order everything for delivery.”

Johnny sprints for the door, excitement in his eyes, “This might be one of the things we ordered for you specifically.”

Swear to god, if they ordered more of those impossible compression socks, they’re never gonna hear the end of it. At least it’s been a good day. You’ve got clean sheets and bedding, you showered with little to no pain (Simon insisted on joining you to help), and the incision sites are healing well. The bladder pain you could do without, though. 

“Special delivery,” a new voice sings. Two?

“Ale! Fito!” you surge forward to stand, but too many men shouting in protest sits you back down. “What are yall doing here?”

They make their way through the pillows to greet you properly, facial hair rasping against your cheek. Thank fuck for that shower earlier. Can’t be too mad about this being orchestrated now. 

Ale smiles bright, plopping down next to you, “Un pajarito medio nalgón-”

“Cuatro,” Rudy interrupts, taking a seat much more gently, “Cuatro pajaritos bastante nalgones.” 

“Simón, Simón. Cuatro nos pidieron un favor.”

“We did say ‘special delivery’.”

They each place a white box in front of you. No labels or tape, just folded closed gently. The folded pieces bloom open in their hands, revealing a giant ziploc bag full of lots of little somethings in each. You can make out little star and flower shapes, all coated in a clumping white powder.

“Are these my tía’s cookies?” 

Ale sucks his teeth, wrapping an arm around you, “Clarín cornetas, mi niño.”

“Which of you did she flirt with?”

“Both,” Rudy chuckles, “We got that bordertown charm.”

It’s then that you remember your tía’s bordertown and their bordertown are on opposite sides of Texas. Not only did they have to deal with her shameless flirting for who knows how long, sweet fools must have gone so far out of their way to get these. And the sheer care they must have put into the transportation. These cookies are frail and yet so few of them are broken. They even accounted for the lard used in them, little ice packs peek out from underneath the large ziploc bags. Tears blur your vision, their voices going out of focus as they give you updates on your family.

“There is one condition though,” Rudy hands you a tissue. “One bag is for you, and the other is for them to share.”

Johnny comes running in from the kitchen again, “Wait, just one for all four of us?”

“That’s what Tití said.”

“Fuck, I really thought she liked us,” Johnny stands completely still for a minute, clearly reviewing the interactions they’ve had with your tía in his mind, cookies forgotten. 

Kyle takes their bag, diving into it immediately and coating his chin in the powdered sugar falling from the cookie. It doesn’t take long for the other 3 to converge around the bag after that. They’ve only had these cookies once before, at your youngest cousin’s quince, which was full of too many “so exactly how are you related?” questions. Your tía says she saves them for special occasions, but you know that the labor that goes into making them is too much for the cookies to be in regular rotation. Either way, they’re a true gift. Your cousins must have helped her this time, the start and flower shapes are just off enough to not fit into your tía’s perfectionism. It won’t take a whole lot of convincing to get Simon to use his fancy calligraphy to write them a thank-you note.

“We were also promised grilled goods upon arrival?” Ale speaks loudly over the cookie commotion.

John perks up at that, faint surprise on his face.

Kyle makes an excited noise around a mouthful of cookie, speaking from the corner of his mouth, “Right, and we’ve got everything set for the chef.” He wrangles John towards the backyard. 

Simon looks worried as Johnny approaches him, clearly meaning to take him to the backyard as well. He’s been firmly by your side since they brought you home from the hospital. He looks over at you, tracing your figure slowly, double-checking every inch of you. Taking a deep breath, he stiffens.

“We’ll look after your boy,” Rudy says softly.

“Aquí te espero, amor.”

He nods, your words enough to ease him through the door. 

With all the prep before the surgery, a couple of really intense weeks where you all worked to prime the house for recovery, this is the first chance you’ve gotten to exist without them being in the same room. And it’s so fucking nice. You couldn’t ask for better partners, but it’s almost relieving to not have to worry about accidentally setting one of them off and launching them into motherhenning. Rudy and Ale have clearly been given the task of looking after you, but even just having new faces to talk to is refreshing.

“Which one of them set this up?” you ask them.

“It was less a request and more a suggestion from us,” Rudy says.

“Bien los conocemos,” Ale adds. “Te quejas, pero bien chiple que te tienen.”

You grin, not even trying to deny it.

It’s muted, but the sounds of the boys chatting drifts into the room. Some back and forth about marinating and time, some laughing about sneaking around. You can’t quite see them from your window, but it’s reassuring to know that this time is helping them relax as well. 

Ale and Rudy tell you more about their trip to visit your tía, passing along the greetings and well wishes your family sent you. It’s an easy rhythm: one talks, the other corrects, and you get to giggle as you listen. Then you swap: you talk, Ale listens, Rudy shushes him. It’s soothing in a way that reminds you so much of home, the ruckus everywhere and laughter echoing. When the tension in your shoulders has finally slipped away, Ale turns to you, curious and serious.

“So about this recovery period,” he says.

“And a grueling schedule before the surgery?” mischief lights Rudy’s eyes.

You groan, their cackling drowning out the sound of you swatting at their chests. 

[alexendria-rose]

~The love Between a sorcerer and an ex assassin~ 3

Part 1, Part 2

A/n- so this is a little bit of the readers childhood past, this is mostly what the chapter is about. It will be a lot, I won’t go into specific details because that’s too much but I will basically be stating it. And yes the avengers do break up in this and I know it doesn’t make sense since Thor hair was already cut and Stephen isn’t in any of it but ya know it’s a fanfic so cut me some slack lol but most of it from here on out should be accurate. Also more of Stephen and readers slow burning love.

Warnings: cussing, Childhood trauma, SA, assault, PTSD, the inability to have children:(

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

I never should’ve gotten involved between Tony and Steves fight. And now here I am hiding out in the sanctum, knowing Stephen would take me in. We’ve gotten closer in the last couple months-him not getting involved with either sides. Well unfortunately for me I was; especially on Steves side, where I was a walking criminal now and didn’t know where the others were-before I got onto that stupid jet; Stephen decided to get me before I got to far into the fight. The fight against the only family I knew triggering me in ways I didn’t even know. I couldn’t sleep knowing the avengers were split up and no longer had that family bond that we all once had. It was rough- not being able to go to Natasha and rant to her about this going around in my head. Now I was stuck with my thoughts- my childhood/the red rom triggering all of it; thinking about how it all started when I officially became a widow and there was not turning back,

“No please don’t!” My 5 year old self cried, the tears rolling down my cheeks as they pinned me down to the gurney. The doctor pinned my wrist down before putting a cuff on both of them.

“This is for the better. Dear child.” The doctor shushed me before patting my hair in a disgusting manner. “We’re just going to do a small procedure…” he whispered harshly. The other male opening up my small legs. I sobbed loudly wondering and pondering what procedure they should attempt to do-I was just a child not realizing that they were about to take the ability of not being able to have them myself. The doctor sticks the needle in my neck-me screaming at the pinch before realizing the black around me.

The fact that Draykov had so much faith in me at such a little age-made me sick to my stomach. Five years old I got the involuntary hysterectomy… most widows didn’t get those until they finally graduated but he knew I didn’t remember much of my family being the youngest widow; easily brainwashed it was like he kept me as a little trophy to prove to the other girls that I was smarter, swifter and better then them which made me an easy target for the girls that were jealous of the “great treatment” I was getting-not knowing being the favorite was ten times worse.

Draykov watched as I continued to fight the widow in front of me, my small arms and tiny body that was not even reached to full adulthood-just merely 12 years old, fought a widow much bigger then me; much older, more experienced. But for me-I was still quicker, faster and had much more advantage than her. I swept under her feet making her fall harder onto her back punching her across the face in the process knocking her out in an instant. Draykov starts clapping slowly making his way towards me before grabbing my chin- his thumb caressing my lip.

“Good job little one, look at you go.” He voice dripping with venom and poise. The way his eyes flicked up and down my body with the very exposed tightness of the suit clinging into the youth of my skin. I shake slightly under his touch, terrified as I stared at him.

“Thank you.” I mumble trying to stop the shake in my hands as he stared at me. The other widows watched in distaste, Natasha was the only one who looked at Draykov with disgust and anger in her eyes at the situation. God how badly I wish I can run away from this with her. Draykov grins at me his hand moving down to my waist caressing it with a soft touch but a disgusting one at that.

“This is why you’re the best widow my child.” He whispers lightly his hand resting on my waist. “You’ll get your reward later.” My stomach drops knowing exactly what that “reward” implied, something painful, something I’ve always wanted to stop but never could knowing it would just lead to torture rather than death. Draykov pats my hip before moving swiftly away from me. Natasha looks my way as the tears start to cloud my eyesight before looking at the widow that was unconscious below me- I quickly blink the tears away trying not to let the emotions fall knowing that punishment would eat away at me, I couldn’t be a weak widow-

The memory often ate me up, it hurt me that I couldn’t stop it but hurt more that I was just a child. A grown man idolizing a child that way… I laid in my bed staring at the wall before slightly gazing at the alarm clock near the bed- oh wow that’s lovely it’s already 1:00Pm and I’m here doing nothing. I sigh loudly taking the blanket off my body, my body shivering from the heat that was taken off my body but the cold hitting my exposed skin instead. My head pounded as I sat up too fast, the memories that sat in my head were knocking against my skull. I didn’t even notice the dry tears on my cheeks nor the red dark circles under my eyes. Why did the avengers have to split up? Everything was good, everything was great until that moment that everything went down hill for the team. And here I was hiding out in the sanctum because I was a literally criminal now; well I guess I’ve always have been… I guess it’s a different kind now huh?

I feet pad towards the kitchen in the sanctum rubbing my red eyes from the lack of sleep.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” I jump slightly at the voice turning around to face the only voice that I knew better then ever now.

“Why do you do that!” I groan towards Stephen. He chuckles lightly walking towards me as I lean against the counter. He stands right in front of me-way too close where our bodies are basically touching but reaches above me grabbing a mug a smile on that stupid smug face.

“For an assassin you really don’t seem to focus on your surroundings.” He laughs softly before moving his body away from me. Suddenly missing the closeness- nope can’t think of that. I roll my eyes at him before turning around and grabbing my own mug.

“An ex assassin.” I mumble lightly watching Stephen grab the pot of coffee pouring some in his mug, I bring my mug out giving him pleading eyes. “Can I have some?”

“You can,” he quicks an eyebrow giving me his teasing stupid smile.

“You know what I mean!”

“I know what you mean but you’re not saying it right.” He laughs moving the pot away from my grasp, I move my way in front of him trying to grab the pot from his hand but he moves way up so I couldn’t reach it.

“You’re an asshole. You know I could just flip you. Remember I’m an assassin.” I mocked him from what he said from earlier.

“You know that’s an unfair advantage. I’m just looking for one word.” He jokes looking down at me with a grin on his face. I try to jump up to grab the pot but he keeps it out of my reach before I end up tripping on my own toes because of my own stubbornness(can’t believe I use to be an assassin) Stephen uses his other arm catching me in the process of me basically almost falling flat on my face, my face close to his and his close to mine. My hand automatically placed on his chest as I looked at him. The tension obviously there from the way we both freeze from the contact, the intense eye contact. My eyes flickering all over his face, his doing the same as both our breath hitched at the same time. His head seemed to move closer to mine, my head unintentionally moving closer to his before realizing the situation; I grab the pot from his hand pushing my body away from him as quickly as I could. He clears his throat noticing the way I was hastily pouring the coffee in my cup trying to escape this situation.

I didn’t understand how Stephen made me feel these things. The way my heart always sped up around him, or the fact whenever he got super close my mouth would go dry, or whenever he would sit at his desk while I read my eyes would always linger towards him. Was it just strong friendship feelings? Maybe… but it was different that’s for sure. Something I haven’t felt before, but it also felt wrong. Part of me knew what I was feeling but that also scared me. Knowing I told myself that I would never get close to someone like that. Never. And I mean never.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

“Y/n. It’s a go.” The widow whispered into my earpiece. I brought the sniper up to my eye as I watched the person I had to take out. I didn’t care for who it was, my brain felt blank, as I just followed instructions. Yelena stood next to me as she stared at the same girl. I look towards Yelena and nod silently.

“Ready.” I mumble. Yelena nods back, focusing on the mission on hand.

“Fire on the place of three.” Yelena mumbles. “5,4-“ suddenly the alarms start ringing and kids start shouting. “She made us, target deployed smoke.”

“She’s on foot with the package. Stay high. Yelena and I are going to ground.” I mumble into the earpiece placing the sniper down as does Yelena. Before we start repealing from the roof onto the ground. We unhook our things before dashing towards the woman on foot with the package. We kick down the door that she moves across the woman getting hit with a car in the process. Yelena sees the package immediately going towards it, I run towards the woman tackling her down so she could grab the package, the woman starts to tackle me back before landing a hard punch on my face kicking Yelena legs in the process and grabbing the package back, she grabs Yelena hair pulling it back trying to get her to drop the knife but she also grabs a the thing from the package spraying it in Yelena face. I grab the woman while Yelena looks lose all the suddenly. I grab my knife before stabbing the woman in the stomach, and Yelena snaps her head towards me.

“Y/n stop!” She yells, the woman lays still looking at both of us, as I stand up to look at Yelena.

“Spray her with it.” The woman grunts out. “Free the others.” She manages to gasp out. Yelena looks at me as I glare Yelena the antidote holding close to my chest. Yelena grunts before trying to grab the bag from me but I kick her down grabbing my knife- not knowing what I was doing I start to lift my hand to stab Yelena but she was able to grab the antidote before I could spraying it on my face. I gasp out loudly dropping the knife in the process looking down what I was doing; wait where was? What was I doing? Yelena?

“Yelena?” I gasp out looking down at her, tears welling up in my eyes realizing I was about to kill the only kind of sibling I had.

I scream out loudly as I sat up from my bed. The sweat collecting on my forehead-actually everywhere on my body. I gripped the bedsheets as the tears welled up in my eyes thinking of the awful memory of being mind-controlled. All the evil things that draykov did while being mind controlled. How much he took advantage of that situation. My bedroom slams open revealing a very worried and scared Stephen. My hands start to shake as I look at him trying to form some sort of words. The tears trickling down my cheek. He rushes over to me moving himself on the bed before holding me close to his body. I grip onto his shirt my eyes wide in fear, he rocks me trying to calm my shaking form.

“It’s okay. I’m right here.” He consoles running his shaky fingers through my hair holding me close and tight; I feel my body relax from his warm and gentle hands running through my hair. I sigh deeply sniffling softly.

“I wish it was just a nightmare.” I murmur out calming down my breathing and my trembling. He places his head ontop of mine.

“We don’t have to talk about.” He coax me softly his voice gentle and tender as he continues to rock me and hold me close. “Just relax, I know you haven’t slept in days. I need you to sleep.” He moves his hand to my back rubbing gentle motions to calm me down. I take a deep inhale breath appreciating the fact that he wasn’t forcing me to talk but rather worried by the fact I was indeed not sleeping well. He lays down against the bed more, my head on his chest as he continues to rub circles on my back and his moving through my hair. I close my hairs enjoying hearing his heart beating against my ear, and his soft breaths included in so.

“Don’t leave.” I muttered sleepily holding him close as I feel the sleep overcome me.

“I won’t. Im right here doll.” He whispers before the sleep finally overwhelms me.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

The feeling of two strong arms around me, the soft patterns of breathing overshadow me as I start to stir slightly; I open my eyes to see the familiar cheekbones and facial hair that I’ve become accustomed to. His lips slightly parted from his soft breathing, his chest heaving up and down, and the way his nose scrunched up at whatever dream he was having; made my heart fluttering. He slowly opens his eyes sleepily looking down at me, he hums gently rubbing my back gently.

“You okay?” He says in a murmur but in a raspy sort of way. Who knew his voice could go even deeper. I nod shyly not use to being this close to a man(well consensually…) I had to admit this was the best sleep I’ve ever gotten- well ever.

“I’m okay.” I whisper quietly. “Thank you.” He closes his eyes leaning his head back a small smile coming up to his lips.

“Anything for you.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

A/n: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ON TAG LIST. LOVE YOU ALL. please let me know if you like this btw I want to see love in the comments!!

[prince-liest]

Since Vox still has a vulva in obbfm, does he also still have a uterus, and periods? I kinda hope he does just because it's kinda sweet to imagine the other Vees doing something nice for him when he's sick (of Valentino making a dumb joke about Vox's time of the month and getting punched by both Vox and Velvette)

He's on T but he hasn't had a hysterectomy or anything like that, so he probably either doesn't really get periods anymore, or not very often (and not very heavily). Exogenous testosterone affects people differently, but I figure if he's been on it for years and years at this point, he's probably not menstruating anymore.

(But he hasn't been on it always, so please feel free to imagine Valentino doting on him - god knows cramps fucking suck, and I feel like Val's the kind of guy who knows how to pamper someone who's goin through it.) (He'll still make a dumb joke, though.) (And then offer to make up for it with sex, since he knows Vox's sex drive is probably going haywire.)

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: Desecrate

Wednesday, April 3rd || I'm Gonna Become Stabby

Okay so starting off strong here: my laptop died this weekend. I had a meltdown friday when it bluescreened, eating ~10k words between my short stories and Desecrate. Thought that would be the worst of it, then when I recovered some of my writing the whole thing died. I panicked for a while on what to do, and honestly we're still figuring it out. For now, I'm using my iPad to write on while waiting for my work's IT to revive my laptop (or give me a new one. i refuse to hold on hope that it will be revived)

All in all, this past week and a half have been hell for me. But, a hell I can tolerate, seeing as I wrote a lot these past few days. I'm not pulling up my iPad right now, but I'm somewhere around 12.5k words on Desecrate!

I also made some announcements on twt and insta for Easter, the biggest of which is for Desecrate: a tentative date for the cover reveal. Hopefully maybe potentially May 9th, Ascension.

I can't guarantee that as I don't have the cover in my hands yet, but that's the day we're shooting for!

Anyways, on to some snippies!

It’s a quick thing, jacking off in the shower. But Kit doesn’t find the release he was desperately hoping for. The need for something more wiggles under his skin, leaving his unsatisfied as he finishes up in the shower and towels himself down. Shame crawls it’s way up his throat as he stands naked in front of the mirror. Shame at what he just did in the shower, shame at the fact that it wasn’t enough for him, at the way his body looks—no longer resembling the woman his mother sees him as, but not resembling a man either. Kit runs his fingers over his scars, twins under his pectorals and a large vertical scar leading from his belly button down. Proof that he believed God made a mistake, evidence of his Sin. Kit is lost in his thoughts when he feels it, a faint and cold touch on his chest. Sharp claws tracing the pattern of his scars, running over the ridges and making him shiver. When the phantom touch dives to trace his hysterectomy scar, he thinks he can hear that strange melody from his dream again. “In my image…”

and one more for good measure because I love Benny:

Kit blushes and leans his head back into the water to rinse his hair. “Yeah, him. He found out I’m back in town and came over to say ‘hi’.” “Looks like he said more than 'hi' if the bruises around your neck are anything to go by,” her voice is teasing, a smirk on her face as she ribs him. “Shut up,” Kit squeaks, raising a hand to touch the sensitive skin. “Anyways, he came over. We did some catching up. I woke up to a cold bed after having another weird ass dream.”

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[skippyv20]

Our Prayer List🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has arthritis in her ankles and feet.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s friend Ann.  She had bowel cancer, they missed her 5 year checkup and when she went for another minor operation her scan showed the bowel cancer has now spread to her liver so she is classed now as Stage 4 (terminal) cancer

Prayers and good thoughts for Riley’s family and friends as they mourn her passing.  

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s grandson who was at the ER today and has a severe ear infection.

Prayers and good thoughts for my friend who suffered broken C5C6 in a freak home accident.  She has complete loss of her hands, and can only stand with an apparatus.  She has a very long journey ahead of her.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s daughter, who has many health issues and is feeling very overwhelmed.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who suffers from anxiety and has terrifying nightmares that she fears may be back.  Praying for peace in her heart and mind.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend.  Her dermatologist has started her on rosacea treatment.  If she doesn’t see results in two weeks to a month she will need a biopsy.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s brother  (Spain) who had vascular bypass in an effort to save his leg.  The surgery was a success.  Please pray for a quick recovery free of complications.  He is doing so much better.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend.  She was her father’s caregiver until his passing and now is her mother’s caregiver.  She is feeling very overwhelmed and is having difficulties with her family.  She struggles with her faith at times.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s nephew who is mending a broken heart.  We pray he meets his special “one” and finds love.

Prayers and good thoughts for Kylee who has run away.  Kylee is facing many battles, and is 16 yrs old.  Kylee has attempted suicide twice before and there is great fear she has tried again.  We pray for her to be found safe, and that she is kept out of harm’s way.  Her mother is at a loss and desperately needs prayers as well.

Our friend needs prayers.   I found out in February I have uterine cancer. I am having trouble to get all of my doctors approval to get the DNC and hysterectomy. The DNC is scheduled for June 19th. My Cardiologist in Texas would not approve the surgery. Because of the divorce I had/ have no place to live. My sister, God Bless her, has taken me in, in Indiana. The struggle I continuously have is my health. I have been hospitalized at least 8 times since January 10th. I black out and fall- and ended up with a broken back. They discovered cancer, and I continue to battle my water pills and my potassium levels. So please pray for my heart, and my kidneys. Please pray I can find new doctors here in Indiana. My doctors in Dallas will no longer help me. Pray I can get 3 years of Cobra insurance in the divorce. Please pray I don’t have cancer. And please pray God will show me why I am still alive. My 2 daughters have blocked me in every way, and have told my sister to take care of me when her husband is dying of heart failure. I pray I can save enough to pay attorneys, and my health needs. Thank you so very much for all the prayers. Losing a husband of 33 years and both my daughters all at the same time is a great trauma in my life right now. I pray they will come back to me. And please pray for my sister and mom who are taking care of me.

Our friend’s BIL can barely eat and is exhausted. He has to strengthen his heart muscles, so he can have heart surgery. They have not scheduled it and won’t until they are sure he will survive. He died on the table his last open heart surgery and was in a coma for 2 weeks, so he is understandably scared to have the surgery. Please pray for him and my sister.

Our friend is mourning the loss of her mother, and facing financial problems.  She is very overwhelmed at this time.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend that is struggling with faith.  She feels God isn’t with her.  She is lost and frightened and feeling alone.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend whose husband is very, very ill.  Prayers for the whole family.  They are facing many obstacles for healthcare at this time.  Her husband’s pancreas is all but dead tissue but it keeps swelling and then going down, this has caused his liver to start failing.  He is facing many medical issues. Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s friend and her daughter and her husband.  The daughter has lupus, and risked her own life to have a baby as she so wanted to be a mother. Their little son was born prematurely weighing 500 grams on Friday and sadly he died on Monday evening. They are absolutely heartbroken.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is mourning the loss of her cousin.  Also, prayers for her aunt (who is feeling suicidal from the loss of her daughter), prayers for her husband and her children.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s former sister in-law and brother in-law.  She was diagnosed with tongue and throat cancer in January and in March he was diagnosed with lung cancer.    Also for their 2 daughters who are taking care of them.  

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is mourning the passing of her beloved mother.  Prayers for her mother’s journey home

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend.  She is suffering from an anxiety and fear.  She is in desperate need of another job, and is worried about her finances.  She is being bullied and stalked.

Prayers and good thoughts for Baby Roy’s family as they mourn his loss.  Praying for them to have peace and to feel God’s loving presence as they continue to mourn.

Prayers and good thoughts for our dear friend, who is suffering from severe back pain & pain in other hip

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has been facing many trials, and is in need of prayers. The last 18 months have been hard, and things still not what they should be.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s family friend who had a stroke. His right side is paralyzed, but he has some sensation.  He is very down at this time.  He will now face new trials because of his condition.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s family member who we pray will join AA.  We pray for success.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who is in financial despair.  She is really struggling as she has no one to turn to in real life.  She is out of work, and there are no jobs to be found.  All of her savings are almost gone and she is afraid she may lose her home.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has severe iron deficiency and the treatment is very harsh and makes her sick.  Her husband has been unfaithful during her illness and her family is ignoring me. She feels very alone.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend who has been battling depression long-term due to trauma and the resulting difficult circumstances.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s son-in-law’s mother.   She has cancer in her spine, leg and lung.  She will be having surgery on her spine.     This woman raised 4 boys by herself, her now 23 year old son is  severely autistic and needs 24/7 care, which his mom has provided him his entire life.    She is only 64 years old, a wonderful person, warm, loving and very independent.  My heart breaks for her.  Please also pray for my son in law - he is in the Navy, fortunately stationed only a few hours from his mom.  He has power of attorney for his mom and his brother’s care - he has some very difficult and no doubt heart wrenching decisions to make.

Prayers and good thoughts for our friend’s daughter who is struggling.  She is in much pain mentally. We prayer for her family as well as they try desperately to help her.

Prayers and good thoughts for Baby James and his heart brother Matthew.  Also their heart brother Conrad

[piracytheorist]

My period could literally not have chosen a worst time to come three days earlier.

I am kind of 80% done? I think? It'll be easier tomorrow when my dad comes and we can finally start packing up my electric piano and putting boxes in the car, but oh my god if I have to do this and run all my other errands tomorrow while battling cramps and exhaustion? Painkillers can do so much, oh my god.

I mean I can just pick up the rest of the stuff and chug it in big garbage bags and let future me worry about what's in what bag, but uuuggghhh

Also I guess my plummeted mood today and yesterday was because I was expecting period. Yay. When can I schedule a hysterectomy please and thank you

[homenecromancer]

thank god i have almost all of next week off, work is killin me right now lmao

im fine it’s just. i look at work as a combination of two things:

1. i get paid to practice socializing with people, and when i am not actively doing that i generally have time to read or write

2. i am continually running my Act Normal routine, and that shit takes way more energy than i really want to pour into it day after day

...so right now im very low on ability to socialize outside of work, which even extends to like. replying to messages in online games lol

overall im doing okay, counting the days until next month starts... not lookin forward to the dental implant installation, still a little stunned that I Am Getting A Hysterectomy

i still need to like... let my work know that im not gonna be able to lift anything for some time after my hysterectomy, but that is an email i can write next week lmao. being more-or-less stealth at work def makes it more complicated, but fuck em, all they and my coworkers need to know is “i had abdominal surgery and can’t lift anything, can you please lug this [item] for me” :|

also while im postin i guess, i have been experiencing doubt about the whole hysterectomy thing, and it’s really weird bc like. i’ll catch myself thinking “i could learn to be a dad” and then i have to remind myself “you have never, ever in your life wanted to carry a child yourself, and you don’t have to do that to be a dad anyway”... also while my uhhhh gynecological cancer risk is only a little bit above normal, it’s still like... i worry that bc i don’t have a period, “hey has your menstrual cycle changed” is not an alarm signal i can respond to, so if i did have a cancer pop up, fuck knows how it would be detected...

idk. i worry. its my thing.

at this time im not rly interested in external bottom surgery, so im also faced with the breathtaking thought that holy shit. this is all the transition surgery i’ve been  considering. damn. wow. in a little less than two months it’ll just be... done.

transition for me has been a journey and not a destination, and this whole process of setting up the hysterectomy has had me feeling like, to simplify, there are two rooms next to each other: Man and Woman. and i have been walking down the hall that separates the latter from the former, and now i’m standing in the doorway, looking back at where i used to be. like all those past versions of me are still standing around in the Woman room, even if they don’t realize that they are* -- and i wish i could say to them “you aren’t stuck here; you can leave; i am leaving”. kind of a wistful, melancholy goodbye to the people i used to be. and then opening the door, and i know i said “rooms” earlier, but in this metaphor it’s like a dream where you realize something as though it were always true -- and i open the door and find myself not in another room, but outside. i can go anywhere i want.

* true life, it took me well into high school to realize that other people were actively perceiving me as A Girl; i didn’t really perceive my own gender at all lmao

[heroes-fading]

I’m also not a big fan of the JJ storyline. It actually makes me so sad how little of a childhood Ellie got to experience 😭

Also I keep seeing pregnant Ellie fics on ao3 and it literally makes me want to hurl 🤢

got this ask last night and was like "answering this is gonna be a doozy" so i'm gonna rip this band-aid off lmaoooo

i think the reality of fic is everyone is coming at it with their own like, very deeply embedded and personal feelings and that's going to be different in what resonates or what squicks you from person to person. for me personally i don't love pregnancy as a plot (as someone who is probably waiting until she hits 30 for a hysterectomy and calling it a day because parenthood and more specifically pregnancy are Not My Thing). but for other people i think that looks different.

i think when you add in the layer of queerness that becomes even More of a really complex thing as far as how people feel about pregnancy. in my head, i want ellie to be a happy teen without having to worry about shit like a baby but i'm also very much coding my own experiences into that (and my own traumadumping -- women in my family have had kids young and missed out on young adulthood and resented their kids for it and it's just a very fun complex pile of feelings just like, heterosexually in their case, not even adding in layers of how queer women and other folks who have uteruses might feel). but for others, it's more positive and forward-thinking future thing.

i can't speak for how lesbians feel about pregnancy specifically. i'm a bisexual married to a dude. you don't need my opinion on this.

there's also the layer of what blood relationships do or don't mean and how people feel about that, especially in the context of queerness and how many of us have had horrible relationships with blood relatives either because of fun things like generational trauma or homophobia and transphobia -- so of course found family tropes Hit Different. "my child is completely fine" "ma'am your child's favorite trope is found family" in a nutshell. of course so many of us resonate the most not with blood-relations but the complex and willing decision to make someone part of your family without blood and someone who accepts and loves you for who you are not because of blood but because of choice.

i know for me i have my own personal preferences and interpretations and they're not like, god. i think that's true for everyone and how they come at media, and i think having a gut reaction to that is only human and fair. different things are gonna hit us differently. anyway, that's all to say it's not my thing but i also just want to acknowledge why that is and how everyone is going to have a different relationship with that. no one fic writer has the Best Interpretation Ever, we're all gonna come into this with our own baggage. that's the fun part of writing fic, you literally just get to do whatever you want with how things may resonate with you. we don't owe it to any given fic writer to resonate with their themes more, that's just writing bb!

and i haven't read any of 'em because, like i said, it's not my jam. so other people might have more in depth feelings about content but i'm not really interested in touching that because i don't really want to read it. and that's fine, people have a right not to read something that won't resonate with them and their experiences. some people like sweeter or more bittersweet fic. some people have diff opinions about characterizaiton. some people like some concepts and hate others. pregnancy is of course going to be really fuckin' complicated.

just like how people don't have to read my fic, lmao, the closest i'll get to talking pregnancy is mentioning abortion pillz~ goes without saying if you're not down with abortion rights there's the door please don't let it hit you.

there is one thing that pisses me off tho and i'm gonna put that under the cut because tw // david and all associated shit

fics who have ellie become pregnant as a result of rape are not my friends, they do hit a very bad gut reaction with me. right now in the united states after roe being overturned teen girls are having to carry their rapist's pregnancy to term. i don't want to read about that. i don't want to read about how it can be a "blessing in disguise" (a violent right wing talking point), i don't want to read about how that affects joel, i just. don't.

that is where that line gets unbelievably crossed for me.

anyway, donate to your local abortion fund. teen survivors should never, ever have to carry their rapist's baby. fuck that. also what's with some fics acting like abortion isn't a thing post-apocolypse or in texas... we've been doing this forever!

[koukoupepia]

got my blood test results back and my thyroid on a surface level looks normal which is funny because i havent been able to renew my prescription for a while. like “over a year” while. though i will have to ask for more detailed tests because they did that to me at the children's hospital when i was 13 (”well you have a bunch of symptoms but your basic blood test came back normal and i wont order any more tests lol”). the only thing is my iron is extremely low even though i try to take iron supplements 💀💀💀 god please can i have a hysterectomy yet ive done all i can outside of prescriptions 

[anderswasrightt]

i have wanted a hysterectomy since i found out what it meant when i was 8 or 9. i knew i never wanted babies. when i hit puberty, i became even more adamant. i've waited almost 27 years for this hysterectomy, and i was SO CLOSE. i was on he table. i'd taken the pre-op oral meds. they shaved my belly for the lap incisions. and then they took one last lab and my sodium was too fucking low.

i can't even begin to describe how upset i was and still am. i only have to wait another month, and what is a month to 27 years, but god DAMN i was SO CLOSE.

do not reblog please but messages are fine

[builder051]

god i feel like we were so robbed of yelena being younger. even like 21-22… like a young women going through all those experiences would’ve felt so much more impactful because the red room is literally full of little girls and teens. and now to have her introduced further into the mcu and interact with other characters? it would’ve been so cool because nat was in her 20s when she defected to shield so seeing yelena throughout those ages, recovering from being in the red room would’ve been so interesting and could’ve been a way of honouring nat’s character and her past :( even though yelena obv still does that it would’ve just been so cool 💔

whenever i’m imagining headcanons of her i always think of her as like 18 or 19 because then she also could’ve been involved with all the young avengers like kate and peter… since she’s like nat’s replacement she would’ve fit in better with that age group 😔

Firstly, I'm going to do the CYA thing, but do know that I'm serious about it. That's a really cool thought point, and it's something I haven't considered, as I haven't considered canon-Yelena as a character in any of my 'verses.

Now, I have to admit that my autism really likes both absolutes and symmetry. My math skills suck, but, as far as estimation goes:

Yelena is 6 in 1995-= 11ish in 2000=26ish in Black Widow movie (set in the blank between Civil War and infinity war, which is...roughly the year of 2017?)

If we consider the red room to follow a traditional European boarding school situation (including ballet school), they "graduate" students around ages 17-18 (which, I suppose in the red room means getting your hysterectomy and all that). There is a period of medical recovery (like, 2ish weeks), where I'd imagine the red room takes care of the girls so they don't bleed to death in a back alley or something, But, you're correct in postulating that there's a 6-7 year gap between Yelena's supposed Red Room Graduation and her coming to her senses to team up with nat.

What I don't quite follow in your ask, though, is "Yelena's recovery from the red room as she is in her young 20s." While this period of time certainly existed, it seems most likely to me that she transitioned from student to working agent. Like...."villain college?"

But if you have a different idea, do, please share. I absolutely don't know everything. I can just do math and insert common possibilities. Nobody's saying they're right.

[treadmilltreats]

This generation does not want to have children

If you talk to this new generation, you will learn that most of them don't want to bring children into this world.

In fact, out of the 4 friends of mine, only one of my daughters wants to have children. The rest definitely do not. Wow, what a change from my generation who played with dolls and couldn't wait to be a mother. I remember being 18 when my gyno told me I could never have children because of my endometriosis. He wanted to give me a hysterectomy at 18. I remember crying for a week and asking my gay best friend to father my child. I needed to have one child before having this done. Thank God, he slapped me (not literally), and I came to my senses and got a second opinion.

Years later, when I got married, we tried for 5 years to conceive. Doctors told us to give up, but I was determined to have a child. There was nothing I wanted more than to have a baby. But the world was a different place then.

I can truly understand why they wouldn't want to bring a child into this world. This world is so screwed up. With all the hateful people, with what we are doing to our earth, with the horrible people in social media, with everyone trying to keep up with the "Jones" and the government which is out of control, I might have made the decision not to have children as well.

I will not judge this generation's decision or even try to change the mind of my daughter, not to have a child. This is her choice. If this is what she wants, that is her choice. But it hurts my heart that this is the world I will be leaving for my children. A world so bad that they don't want to bring another human into it.

We did this, us and the generations before us did this. We cared too much about ourselves and what we could get. We didn't care about the earth and what we were doing to it. Instead of making it better, we have made it worse. And that is on us. I recently heard that our schools in Florida have 25% fewer students than ever. What does that tell you? More and more people are becoming a “Dink” which stands for -Dual income, no kids. Yes, this is really a thing they say now, I had no idea until my daughter told me.

So today, my friends, while we are still here, we need to do something. We need to leave the world a better place than we found it. Because if this continues, with each generation wanting less and fewer children, that will be the downfall of the earth.

We need to do better.

“Be the change you want to see”

@TreadmillTreatsCheck out my daily blogs @ https://treadmilltreats.blogspot.com/?m=1

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[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Eleven

... Comes Memories Best Left Behind.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Nat wakes up, and starts to remember.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 8349

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Post-suicide attempt, graphic flashbacks of sexual assault via mind-controlled friend, guilt tripping, injury detail (SH), external and internal examination, forced hysterectomy, restraint, SA of an injured minor (non-graphic, predominantly verbal).

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (10/72) Next Chapter (12/72) ->

I woke slowly, to a reluctant consciousness I immediately prayed was a dream.

The agony I was in told me otherwise.

I kept my eyes closed against the bright lights, a headache barrelling down on me  without hesitation.

Silence.

Odd, blissful silence.

I became aware, over time, of a hand in mine. Only when the fingers clasped tight flexed could I notice their presence, and as soon as they stilled once more, I immediately forgot that I wasn’t alone.

Occasionally, voices spoke around me, but I didn’t have the energy to decipher the words. I had no idea how long I’d been lay there, being poked and prodded, before I finally opened my eyes.

The room was nondescript and light, an airy space intended to encourage healing and wellbeing.

I immediately wished I’d never bothered.

Turning my head with a groan, I froze when I saw the person with their fingers interlocked with mine.

Clint’s eyes were puffy, the space underneath a violent violet of sleepless nights and poor-quality food, lips chewed to rags and scabbed over, time and again. His cheekbones protruded sharply, hair lacking its usual healthy shine, and his fingernails were bitten to the quick, raw and angry.

Beautiful.

His lids were closed in twitchy sleep, and I took the opportunity to follow the line of my arm, wrapped heavily in sterile bandages between wrist and bicep. Glancing across, I found the other to be the same, and, if the discomfort spread throughout my body was anything to go by, there were many more wounds scattered across my skin – rips and tears I didn’t remember making.

“Natasha?”

My head jerked back around, finding Clint’s red eyes watching me hesitantly, dropping my hand quickly. “God, I… I’m so glad you’re awake. There was… I didn't think you'd wake up.” He stood, weaving slightly, his clothes wrinkled and malodorous. “You’ve been out for a week. The blood loss, the extent of the damage… They put you into a coma to give your body chance to recover. They… You wouldn’t eat enough, and we knew it. They had to make the choice.” He gestured to my other side, and I followed his gaze to the creamy IV situated above me, panic settling in.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes flicking back to him desperately. “No, Clint – Please, please don’t let them do this to me.”

He smiled weakly, stepping away from the bed, hands raised to protest his innocence. “It’s none of my business, Nat. I shouldn’t even be here – don’t you remember? I’m just a rapist, and you never want to see me again.”

I winced, recalling the words that flowed unheard from my mouth. “…What did it say?”

“It?”

“The Voice. It… It was me, in the beginning. But not – it didn’t give me a choice. But then I couldn’t, and it… It took over. I don’t… I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t do anything,” I whispered, balling my mostly-numb fists and digging my nails into my palms. “I only woke up under the car.”

“’I remembered how you fucking hurt me, and now I can’t even look at you’,” he murmured, dropping into the seat once more. “That was you, wasn’t it?” I nodded reluctantly, and he pushed a hand through his hair. “After that… You were cold. You were… Nasty.”

“What did I say?” I whispered, trembling with fear.

He met my gaze slowly, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t, Nat.”

“I can’t move on until I know what I did.”

“You won’t move on when you do,” he quipped, throwing my own words back at me. “You won’t be able to live with it.”

“It was that bad?” I pressed, hands shaking. He looked away, deviating from a script we’d followed once before.

“It was worse.”

I winced and rested my head back against the pillow, drained and tired of life. “… I’d still like to know, Clint.”

He hummed and met my eye once more, hard and haunted. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Clint tossed his knife from hand to hand, grinning wolfishly, his bright blue eyes sparkling with menace. “Natalia,” he crooned, the blade spinning between his fingers. “My dear, sweet Nat. Why don’t you come a little closer? I’ve missed you.”

“Leave him alone,” I hissed, fists raised and coiled loosely. “Clint, if you’re in there… You can fight this. I know you can.” He shook his head harshly, growling, and my hope flared. “Clint? Clint, you can do this. Come back to me, please…” My hands became open palms, offered soothingly as I inched closer, his eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. “Please, Clint, I-”

He jerked forward with a primal snarl, catching my wrists and securing them around the pipe with a zip tie. I looked up, stunned, into the brightest, most terrifying gaze. “Nat, Nat, Nat…” He tutted, walking around to kick my legs apart. “You love this one, don’t you? You’d do anything for him.”

I nodded sharply, heart racing in my chest. “Anything.”

He pressed the knife to his own throat, grinning sinisterly. “Prove it. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it, or I will kill him.” He squatted by my side, trailing a finger across my cheek. “You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you, Little Spider?”

I flinched and recoiled, swallowing the bile in my throat. “I want Clint. Not you.”

He smirked as he straightened, undoing his belt. “This is the only way your precious ‘Clint’ will ever fuck you, Natalia. You may as well accept it.”

I blinked owlishly, then nodded, rigid and terrified. “Just don’t hurt him. I… I’ll do anything you want. Just please… Don’t hurt him.”

He grinned once more, trailing the knife along my body, cutting through my suit from breastbone to abdomen and ripping it from my skin. I shivered under his lustful gaze, writhing in an effort to hide my scantily clad body, eliciting a tut and pressing the knife to his throat. “Natalia, we’ve discussed this. You will behave, or he will die.”

I stilled immediately, muscles going limp as his rough hands dragged down my underwear, tossing it aimlessly over his shoulder and forcing my legs apart.

There was no hesitation as he pushed a finger inside me, making me cry out against the intrusion. “Fuck, Natasha… Do you like that, Little Spider?” He pumped himself mercilessly as I sobbed, caressing my walls in an almost tender motion. My tight ring of muscle burnt, clamping down against the intrusion. “You love the way I stretch you out and make you all ready for me. You’re so goddamn tight – I thought you were a slut?”

“You pretend like you don’t want this, but you’re so wet… Your pussy wants this, and you can’t deny it.” He smirked as a second finger prodded my hole, rubbing gently. “You want another finger, is that it? You’re squeezing so hard – so desperate. No, it’s not a finger you want, I know. But one more first, Little Spider. We have to make sure you can take it; I wouldn’t want to hurt my dear Natty, after all.” He forced his way inside me and I screamed, burning and tearing, fading to a soft sob as he worked me wider. His fingers drew out and came to his mouth, licking the blood from the digits with a laugh. “Well… Wet is wet.”

He crawled up my body, smelling of sweat and Clint, and I wept aloud as he poked at my entrance. “Clint, I’m sorry,” I whispered, fingers balling into fists.

He pushed inside me once more, setting fire to my nerves and burning away my last vestiges of sanity, muscles relaxing as I gave up. “God, Nat… You’re so fucking tight. I never thought you’d be this tight.” He stuttered out a groan as his hips shifted, his length moving inside me, but I could barely feel anything anymore, my unseeing eyes locked somewhere over his head as I jerked at his motion. “Natasha… Such a good little girl,” he crooned, hand smoothing the hair from my face. “Talk to me, my little slut. Tell me how good this feels… How long you’ve wanted it.” I simply nodded distantly, and he growled, slapping me hard. “Do as I say, Natalia, or your loverboy dies while you watch.”

“Please,” I whimpered, forcing my body to wriggle in faux arousal – something I had more than enough experience of, but never in such a heartbreaking way. “I’ve wanted it for so long – it’s so good. You feel so good, please…”

He grinned wickedly, pulling out long enough to flip me over, my ass in the air, entirely at his mercy as he pushed into my clenched, unprepared hole, making me scream once more, nails snapping as they scraped the metal ground. “You like it when I do it like this, don’t you? You like it rough…” He jerked his hips forward, another cry escaping my torn throat, followed by a desperate sob.

“Please,” I begged, wanting this to stop – needing this to be over.

“You like that, don’t you?” he breathed, reaching around to paw at me ineffectually. “Tell me how much you like it, Little Spider…”

Now. Left leg back, against his neck. There’s a pipe he will hit his head on. He’ll be out cold.

Wh… What?

“What did I say, Natasha?” he ground out as he rammed into me, body chafing against the grating. “Answer me. Tell me how much you love this cock in your ass; I bet Barton could never-”

My leg raised of its own accord, colliding with the side of his throat and sending him flying into the pipe I was secured to. He instantly crumpled, and I sobbed, curling my beaten, damaged body into itself.

Thank you…

You’re welcome, Natalia. I only want what is best for you – for us.

“I managed to get the knife and cut through the zip ties. I found a fresh suit, cleaned the blood from my body, and got you to the medical bay. I never spoke of it… Not until now,” I added, wincing.

Clint’s mouth worked wordlessly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “Nat…”

I shook my head, offering him a weak smile. “Your turn.”

Wiping his face, he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “It... Well, I feel like an asshole for comparing the two, now.” I reached out a hand across the space between us, and he hesitated before entwining his fingers firmly with mine, unable to hide his shaking.

“Like I said, I... I knew something was wrong. You said what you said about not being able to look at me, and then you just... Disappeared. You do it, sometimes; I think it’s when The Voice is talking with you. Sometimes you just go blank, staring off into the distance, and it’s almost impossible to get you back.”

“After that, things got... Weird. It was like you had a switch for your emotions, and you just turned it off. You... You looked me in the eye, and you said... You said that you only fucked me as test, to see if it was the same. To see if I was really under Loki’s control, or if it was just a lie to get away with doing whatever I wanted. You said that I failed.” He swallowed hard, looking away. “I tried for explain- to apologise- anything. But you – it – just laughed. It said that once a rapist, always a rapist. It said... ‘We never want to see you again. You’re a monster, Clint, and we wish we’d never met you’.”

He paused for breath and I rubbed his hand reassuringly, guilt settling like rock in my chest. “And then... Then it said that I was the reason for it all. The cutting, the starving. It said ‘we do these things because we can’t fucking live with what you did to us. But I bet you still touch yourself at night when you think of it, don’t you, Clint? You still come to the memory of us screaming and begging for mercy as you unmade us, wishing more than anything you could tie us up again. But we’re not going to give you the opportunity’.” He blanched and gagged,  eyes growing wide. “I- I don’t, I would never...”

“I know,” I soothed, extending an arm to him, pulling him tight against my chest as he crawled on the bed beside me, sobbing uncontrollably into my gown. “I know... I’m so sorry, Clint.”

“I understand now,” he whispered, fingers wrapped firmly in my sheets as he curled against me. “I understand, vaguely, how hard it must be. How mean that goddamn Voice is.” I nodded and hummed, placing a soft kiss to his hair. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he added, his voice a low murmur.

“I’m sorry too, Clint. I... Can we start over?”

He looked up, shocked. “You... Still want to be with me? After everything I did?”

I smiled affectionately, pressing my forehead to his. “You are my light in the darkness, Clint Barton. I will always, always love you.”

He grinned for a heartbeat, then winced. “Then... Why? Why did you leave me in the first place?”

I baulked and looked away, shame colouring my cheeks. “Basically? The Voice tricked me into doing something... Dumb. Intimately dumb,” I added when frowned, rolling my jaw thoughtfully as my face pinked further. “I... It convinced me I would get sick, and that I needed to be clean. I... Ate body wash. And... put it in other places.”

He winced sharply, hissing air in through his teeth. “Are you okay?”

I nodded dismissively, waving a hand. “Charcoal helped with the sickness, and it seems that the coma helped with the... Discomfort. I’ll be fine. But I felt stupid and embarrassed, and I knew I’d have to tell you about it. But... The Voice can be so persuasive. It made a fool of me, and then used that as proof that I needed it, and should listen to it. It… It made me feel like I didn’t have a choice.”

He leant forward, touching his forehead to mine. “You weren’t to know, Nat. You… You could have talked to me.”

Nodding quickly, I sniffed. “I know. But at the time…”

He clucked sympathetically, cupping my chin in his hand. “I know, my love. That Voice has a power and a way of making you believe things.” I hitched a sob, and his nose brushed mine before he hesitated. “I… Can I kiss you?” A few more tears leaked down my cheeks, touched and honoured by this humble, damaged man, and I nodded desperately, his lips brushing mine, sweet and chaste. “I love you, Little Spider.”

“I love you, too,” I whimpered, wrapping my arms around him as tight as the bandages and IVs would allow, clinging to him desperately.

I’m never letting go again.

That was how Bruce found us, curled around one another and crying softly, murmuring apologies and forgiveness into each other’s bodies.

“You’re awake?”

We looked up in unison, and Clint went to detangle his limbs from mine, but I held him fast. “She woke up only recently,” he offered, chagrined – I guess he was supposed to tell someone.

Bruce hummed, glancing between the two of us impassively, before a weak smile flickered on his lips. “I’m glad to see you’ve made up.” His gaze flicked to me imploringly, and I nodded.

“I told him,” I explained, wincing in shame once again. “I should have done that in the first place.”

The doctor grimaced sympathetically, moving closer, and I nodded when he gestured at the foot of the bed imploringly, settling himself by my legs. “I’m going to talk to you about the medical treatment you have received, and where we go from here. Would you like Clint to stay?”

I felt Clint’s eyes on me, questioning and unassuming, but I only chuckled under my breath. “Yes. I would always like Clint to stay.” His arms twitched around me protectively, and I smiled, burying closer into his chest.

Bruce watched us for a moment, his face a perfect blend of happiness and grief, before he shook his head. “Natasha, you were found in the parking lot seventeen minutes after you ran from Clint. Given the extent of the damage sustained and the lengths you went to in to try to hide, it has been assumed that this was an attempt on your life. Is that accurate?” I hesitated then nodded reluctantly, and he made a quick mark on his clipboard before placing it on his lap, meeting my gaze steadily. “You made seventy-three incisions, two of which involved major arteries. You were unconscious when we found you, already far into major hypovolemic shock. You were extremely tachycardic and tachypnoeic, with almost no capillary refill.” He flinched at a memory I couldn’t fathom, looking away before continuing. “You’re O-negative. While we always have universal donor blood on hand, it wasn’t enough. Without Clint -  the only other O-negative member of the team, aside from myself – you’d have died, Natasha.”

I offered my partner a weak smile, noticing for the first time the heavy bruising that marred the curve of his elbow, and pressed my lips to his forehead. “Thank you.”

“It took four hours to stitch you up. Near the… End, you stopped searching for skin and just went through the clothes. There were fibres and grit embedded into your wounds. One of the IVs is a broad-spectrum antibiotic,” he added, nodding at the multitude of bags hanging above me, “and you’ve been responding well. You… You had four-hundred and twelve stitches, in the end. Stephen and I worked on you in shifts, and we weren’t optimistic that you’d pull through. When you somehow started trying to regain consciousness, you had a seizure, so we induced a coma to give your body chance to recover. The drug was withdrawn yesterday, but you didn’t wake up. We weren’t certain if you would ever wake up, or the… Condition you would be in, if you did.” He offered me a tight smile, meeting my eye once more. “We’ll have to run some tests, but… It seems that you haven’t suffered significant impairment of your faculties, at least.” He gestured down at my arms, swathed in white. “Stephen did what he could to salvage your nerves, but… Natasha, you have to be warned. You may never regain full sensation or function. The damage was significant, and any healing will be slow, but there’s no guarantee you’ll ever be back to how you were before.”

“Your weight was at an all-time low, and you had a violent infection from the lacerations to your ribs, which were beginning to turn septic. You were severely anaemic, and deficient in almost all essential vitamins. I don’t know how you’re alive, Nat,” he finished simply, something akin to wonder and intimidation flickering across his face.

I shrugged half-heartedly, looking away. “Just lucky, I guess; or unlucky, depending on your interpretation,” I added with a snort, sending Clint’s head jerking up from my chest with a frown.

“That’s not funny, Natasha.” I rolled my jaw and nodded tersely, and his eyes widened infinitesimally. “Are you… Do you still feel that way? Like… Hurting yourself?”

I shrugged again, picking at my bandages absently. “Everything isn’t suddenly fixed because we talked a little, Clint. It’s better, but it’s not… Better. I still…” The lump in my throat made my voice crack, and I squeezed my eyes shut before continuing. “I still hate who I am. The things I’ve done.”

His fingers found mine one more, filling the spaces between. “Then we’ll keep talking,” he replied simply, my eyes opening to meet his sympathetic gaze. “For as long as it takes. Right, Doc?”

Bruce sighed, drawing our focus back toward him. “Actually… It’s my professional opinion that Natasha should be transferred to a dedicated facility.”

My blood thrummed in shock and devastation – no, don’t send me away, he is the only thing that makes this endurable and I won’t survive without him – but Clint merely stood slowly, stepping closer to the seated doctor and looming over him. “Do you make that choice?” Bruce shook his head, skin tinged with lime, and my partner smiled emotionlessly. “If she is not under non-voluntary admittance, as required by law, then she goes nowhere. And if you know what’s good for you – and more importantly, what’s good for her – you won’t seek out that order. Not only will it likely kill her, but it’ll mean I have a lot of free time on my hands to make your life a living hell, Bruce.”

I blinked vacantly, startled by the flat fury in Clint’s voice, his eyes dark and intimidating. But Bruce, the mottling of his skin growing more evident, only stood, his chest close to the other man’s as his height increased steadily. “Don’t make me angry, Barton,” he whispered, barely perceptible. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

“Boys!” I snapped, sending both heads whipping around to me, the doctor deflating slowly. “That’s enough. Clint’s right – I’m not going anywhere. You can try and force me if you want, but it will be the death of me. I’m an international spy; do you really want to test my ability to commit suicide in a locked ward?”

Bruce blinked and paled, then turned his gaze back to Clint, still vibrant green and furious. “Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t want what’s best for her. She was on a strict no-exercise order for a reason, and you fucked her. She could have had a heart attack. You could have killed her for your own pleasure – and even though you didn’t, what good has come of it?” Hands raised and open, he gestured to the surrounding room. “You are the last person who can ever question my motivation, Barton. Not when your own is clearly so selfish.”

Bruce’s words rung in the silence as he left, Clint stood loosely beside the bed.

“Clint-”

“He’s right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “God, he’s right. I could have killed you, Nat.”

“Clint, I-”

He turned to face me, the blue of his eyes made ever deeper by the redness surrounding them as he held back tears. “I’m so goddamn selfish. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, shuffling toward him as best I could despite the various leads and tubes attached to me. “Clint-”

“Why would I do that? Why am I so fucking self-serving? God, The Voice was right, I’m no better than-”

“Clint!” I interrupted fiercely, my tone clipped and harsh. “That is enough. I will not listen to this. You are nothing like Loki. And you are not selfish. I made a choice – it might not have been the smartest one, but neither of us was fully aware of the risk. And I do not regret it, not for a second. It’s a choice I’d make over and over, because it was worth it. It…” I flushed, my passion overridden by my embarrassment. “It was the best I’ve ever felt. In every sense – physically, emotionally, and goddamn spiritually.”

He uncurled his fists, inching closer uncertainly. “But-”

“No.”

“I just-”

“Shut up, Clint.”

He sighed, moving back to lay beside me and pressing a gentle kiss to my nose. “… It was that good?”

I met his gaze slowly, a tremble of static shooting through my body and the memory of him; his teeth, his tongue, his hands. “I’ve never believed in God before, but… I’m pretty sure I did then.”

He smirked, brushing his lips against mine affectionately. “Glowing praise. If it’s any consolation, I’ve never…” Flushing red, he scratched the back of his neck shyly. “It’s never been that quick. Not by far.”

I grinned, rubbing my nose against his jaw. “I’ve just never, so I think I win.” He chuckled, his fingers finding the curve of my hip, shaking his head as I shimmied closer.

“Bruce was right, though. We should… I mean, we need to take it easy. At least until you’re stronger. I don’t want anything to happen to you, hon.” I pouted playfully, but paused when I caught sight of his serious expression, and sighed.

“Yeah. But hey… It’ll give me something to look forward to, right? A reason to improve?”

He smirked again, peppering kisses across my cheeks. “I’ll start planning it out. It’ll be the best night… Day… Weekend of your life.”

I swallowed at the implication, the connected ECG obnoxiously betraying my thrill. “I guess I’ll have to try and eat more, then."

Stephen rapped on the door before entering, and I hurriedly pressed a finger to my lips, inclining my head at the slumbering archer curled against my chest. He smiled wanly, moving to sit on the chair beside the bed. “I need to check your sutures, Natasha. All being well, you can get out of here today – but you’ll be on bedrest for the next few weeks, at least, and we’ll be checking on you several times a day. The perks of being an Avenger with a dedicated medical team,” he added, chuckling.

Nodding, I placed a tender kiss to the forehead of my sleeping love, caressing his cheek. “Clint, honey? Dr. Strange is here.”

Clint grunted as he stirred, blinking in brief confusion before his gaze cleared. “Huh? Oh. Hi, Stephen.”

The wizard dipped his head politely, hands tented in his lap. “Mr. Barton.”

“Stephen’s here to check my stitches. I may be able to leave later,” I added, grinning. But Clint frowned, glancing at the surgeon.

“Is that advisable?”

“It’s only upstairs, Clint. She’ll be in a wheelchair the whole way, and on bedrest for a few weeks. If we can find someone who is willing to wait on her hand and foot, that is,” he added, an eyebrow raised in self-amusement.

I muttered in Russian under my breath, then raised my voice. “I don’t need a wheelchair.”

“It’s not negotiable, Natasha. It’s the only way you’re leaving this room,” he replied smoothly, and stood. “Now. This is likely to be somewhat uncomfortable, Nat. You have stitches over most major swaths of skin, and examination will, unfortunately, require nudity, though I will provide a courtesy sheet to be moved around as needed. Do you understand?”

I nodded tightly, any humour lost from the situation at the idea of the doctor’s eyes on me. Hesitating, I met his gaze slowly. “While I’ve been unconscious?” I whispered, horrified when he nodded stoically.

“Not through choice, Ms. Romanoff. Life-saving measures were required, and there was no other option.”

“Who?”

Clint frowned at the question, but Stephen tipped his head, instinctively understanding the question. “Bruce did not feel able to work outside of your arms and legs. All other sutures were performed by myself. I’m sorry, Natasha.”

I swallowed dryly, cringing at the thought of the wizard looming over my naked, empty body. Stephen’s a professional. He did his job, and nothing more.

Are you sure?

I resisted the urge to groan aloud, hanging my head in my hand. Not you. God, please, not you.

The Voice laughed harshly – a grating sound that scraped the flesh from my brain. You didn’t say that when I got you away from Clint. Both times, it added meaningfully, and I flinched against my palm. raising my face to the doctor.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Stephen nodded, glancing at the man still sharing the single bed. “Would you like Clint to stay?”

“… No.”

Both men seemed shocked as I spoke, sharing a look before Dr. Strange recovered, nodding. “As is your right, of course.”

I could feel Clint’s gaze on my face, and winced. “I’m not… I don’t want you to see me like that. Not yet. Please.” The archer nodded and kissed my cheek, murmuring his understanding before standing. “But… Will you wait outside? In case I need you?”

He offered me a reassuring smile as he turned, his hand on the door. “Always, Little Spider.”

“Okay. I… I’m ready.”

I lay on my bed on my back, covered from collarbone to thigh with a thin sheet, littered with bandages and tubes. Dr. Strange edges around the sheet, taking me in without a reaction – for which I was deeply grateful.

He flicked on his glasses, moving to lean over my left arm. “Are you ready to proceed?”

I hesitated, and he raised a curious eyebrow, silently prompting me. “Could you… Can you sit?” I stammered, intimidated by his looming figure. He nodded, immediately sliding onto the chair beside the bed, offering me a reassuring smile.

“If you need a break at any point, Natasha, or you begin to feel uncomfortable – you just let me know.” I nodded gratefully, and he took a deep breath as he began to unwrap my bandages, beginning at my wrist, the hush of the fabric the only sound in the silence.

Those bandages would be a good way to tie you up. I wonder how the good doctor-

“Can you… Talk? About anything, just… I can’t sit in silence. Please.”

“We used braided nylon for your sutures,” he responded immediately, his soft, steady tone bringing me back to focus, The Voice hissing angrily as I concentrated on his words. “It comes in clear and black dyed – while less attractive, I opted for the black. With the amount of work to be done, visibility trumped aesthetic, I’m afraid.” His fingers gently poked at my wrist, light but sure. “Absorbable materials are de rigeur for an individual wound – but considering the amount of bodily fluids involved, we opted, largely, for non-absorbable. There’s a significant number of sutures, and we didn’t want to compromise integrity in any way. You had four hundred and twelve stitches in total.”

His hands reached my elbow, and I swallowed as I felt the skin there tingle, tight under his handiwork. “… Do you want me to tell you how the wounds are doing, or would you rather not know?”

I shrugged, swallowing. “Anything. Just keep talking to me.”

“Your sinister – left – brachial artery was approximately 70% severed. Ironically, this caused more devastating effects; complete transection of the vessel would have allowed for proximal retraction and constriction, though repair would have been more difficult. We internally sutured the vessel, followed by soft tissue repair through the layers.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I murmured, my gaze still locked on the ceiling, and I felt him look at me.

“I’d do it every day if I had to, Natasha. While I wish it wasn’t needed, it was a task I had no qualms about performing. I care for you, as I care for the rest of the team,” he added, continuing his way up my shoulder, my muscles tightening involuntarily as his knuckles brushed my throat.

“Stay down, slut.”

I blinked in surprise and stammered, the ECG verbalising my distress, and causing Stephen to pause until I nodded tightly. “Keep going.”

He raised a bandage on my shoulder, the latex of his gloves catching on my skin dryly. “Here, there was only superficial damage. Four sutures – Bruce’s handiwork. He is more adept at cutaneous stitching than more invasive procedures. Fortunately, you have a surgeon on your side,” he noted, a smile in his voice as he rounded the bed to repeat the process.

I was counting the tally in my head, and Stephen hesitated at three hundred and nine, halfway up my left leg. “Natasha…”

“I have another one hundred and three stitches to be examined, Stephen. I know.”

He swallowed audibly, the faintest tremor in his hands. “Would you like me to break them down?” I nodded gratefully, squeezing my eyes shut, and he exhaled sharply. “There are... Seventeen stitches in your left breast, and three on the nipple. Fourteen and four on the right, respectively. Thirty-six on your abdomen and ribs; the pre-existing wounds were cleaned and treated, but suturing was no longer possible. A further twenty-one on your pelvis – six on the left, nine on the right, and six in… On the pubis.”

It was the first time he stammered with embarrassment, and I couldn’t help but smile wanly. “And the last eight?”

“Internal.”

My eyes snapped open, locked on his apologetic face, his brow furrowed in pain. “I’m sorry, Natasha. We… I had to stop the bleeding. I was as perfunctory as I could be, I promise. I haven’t checked those sutures since they were applied.”

“What did I do?” I whispered, horrified. He swallowed again, looking away.

“The tissue was already thin and inflamed as a result of the… existing cleanse trauma. You also have extensive internal scarring from historical injury. The serration of the knife was such that, when you removed it, there was significant damage sustained. I repaired the area in as efficient and swift a manner as I could.”

I felt myself go red, breath hitching in my throat. “You know about the… The soap?”

He nodded tersely, jaw set. “Bruce thought I should be aware of the pre-existing risk of infection. But even if he hadn’t, I would have assumed something similar upon examination.”

My head dropped back, shame flowing through me violently, causing my stomach to churn. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Where would you prefer that I start?”

I gestured to my chest reluctantly, jaw clenched. “May as well work our way down.”

He nodded again, moving wordlessly to my side and lowering the sheet slowly, his motions considerate and careful as he smoothed it across my ribs. “I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can.”

I could only nod wordlessly, eyes latched on the ceiling, the machine by my side matching the staccato beating of my heart. His delicate fingers peeled back the adhesive bandages, gently probing at my chest and murmuring quietly. “The sutures are healing well. I was particularly concerned about this one – the positioning, close the breastbone, makes healing problematic, as it is prone to rubbing. But it has settled well, with no sign of infection or irritation.”

“The larger wound on this side was easier, but the nipple was almost completely severed. I did what I could to reattach the nerves, but you may experience some loss of sensation.” His fingertips were timid but my body clenched at the contact, his breathed apologies doing little to still my anxiety.

Mercifully, his hands left my chest, skirting the wounds of my ribcage, both new and old. “The existing lacerations were of most concern, both due to depth and existing infection. We performed a minor debridement, removing some infected tissue. You seem to be responding well to the antibiotics, however. The infection is still present, but receding.”

His hands paused by my navel, entirely uncertain. “Would… Would you rather I move the sheet? I’m not sure what… Where you would prefer to be covered.”

“Leave it,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

He hummed affirmatively, his gentle touch pulling back ever more bandages, tenderly probing at the space between thigh and abdomen. “This… This is why you can’t walk anywhere, Natasha. It seems you were aiming for the femoral, or perhaps the iliac. But this was almost the last set of injuries, and you had grown weak. If you had moved directly from the brachial to here… Well, you barely survived as it is.”

His hands were barely felt now, moving to the soft skin of my pubic mound, a low tremble settling into my bones.

I bet he’s loving this.

“This one is fine, too. A relatively simple suture chain, it should heal cleanly with minimal scarring – perhaps a minor interruption of the hair growth.” He smoothed the sheet back up to my collarbones, and I met his eyes, a quivering, heaving breath escaping me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I replied with a desperate sob, wiping my tear-stained cheeks. “No, I’m not. But we should continue. If we stop now, I… We can’t stop now.”

He nodded, offering me a terse, sympathetic smile. “In that case, I shall continue.” His feet dragged on the floor as he moved, lowering the end of the bed and sitting down. “I… I have to look. I’m sorry.”

I only cried.

He took his own deep, preparatory breath, his fingers brushing my ankle. “Okay.” He cleared his throat, shaking off any emotion, separating himself from the guilt of what he had to do. “Natasha, I’m going to need you to shuffle down a little, if you could.” I obeyed silently, tears flowing freely as my knees slipped from the end of the bed. “That’s great, thank you. Now, bring your feet up – as close to your behind as you can – and let your knees fall apart.”

A ragged sob escaped me as the balls of my feet met the soft cotton, thighs seized and glued together.

“Take your time, Nat. I’m here.”

My legs shifted slowly, the muscles contacting and fighting for every inch.

“That’s excellent, Natasha. You’re doing so well.” My breath hitched in my throat, fingers curling into my palms and breaking the skin. “I’m going to insert a small speculum now, okay? You may feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t be painful.”

There was a hesitation, both infinite and brief, before I felt the pressure.

“Stay still, Natalia, or it will be worse.”

The feet and hands were chained down.

The bar between the knees, digging into the flesh.

The tearing, tugging, cutting, dragging.

The feeling of having the core ripped out and snipped away.

The wet thud as it landed.

The screaming, and writhing.

The punishment, the blade twisted inside.

“You’re done. Now there is no risk. No distraction.”

The pain. The blood.

“He will be in to see you shortly. We need to make sure you can still perform, of course.”

“-sha? Nat? Natasha, you need to relax, okay? You are still weak. I’ll stop, but I can’t get it out if you don’t release me.”

“Если ты когда-нибудь снова прикоснешься ко мне, я отрежу твой член и скормлю его тебе,” I snarled, pulling tighter on the arm pinned between my legs.

“Sorry, Widow, my Russian is rusty,” he gasped, my foot pressing firmly on his throat.

“’Touch me again, and I will cut off your prick and feed it to you’,” I hissed, broken accent spitting past bared teeth.

“Natasha, I just needed to examine the-”

“Natalia,” I growled, bending his wrist back. “You examine nothing. You touch nothing. You are not authorised.”

“Authorised?” Pale blue flashed between my knees, his free hand held up imploringly. “I asked your consent, Natash- Natalia. I… The sutures. Your injuries.” He gasped again, the air audibly painful in his compressed throat. “I am Doctor Stephen Strange – an Avenger, and a Master of the Mystic Arts. I was a surgeon. I attended to you after you received a great number of lacerations.”

“Strange,” I repeated at a mutter, the sound sparking something distant in my terrified mind.

“Yes. Myself and Dr. Bruce Banner administered care. You received over four hundred stitches. Clint Barton, your partner, is waiting just outside this room.”

Clint.

I gasped, muscles relaxing immediately, and Stephen backed away, coughing, one hand clasped to his quickly darkening throat. “S… Stephen…”

He glanced up at me, his other hand raised imploringly. “That’s it. It’s just me. You’re safe, Nat. I promise.”

Trembling fingers touched my mouth, stunned and horrified. “S-Stephen, I… I don’t…”

He shook his head, his own hands lowering. “Natasha- Natasha?” he clarified, and I nodded once. “Natasha, you had existing, extensive damage, and I would have been a pretty terrible doctor if I didn’t notice you were missing some stuff down there. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I imagine it was not a pleasant experience. I should have predicted that this may be a triggering event.”

I whimpered softly, nodding my head. “I never remembered before… But now I remember.” I looked up once more, mortified. “Stephen, I… I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his shoulder and neck in turn, then smiled weakly. “No damage done. Though I may be drinking my meals for a few days,” he added playfully, touching a finger to his throat with a wince, before meeting my gaze seriously. “Natasha… The speculum is still…” I flinched and clenched instinctively, and he raised his hands. “No, no… Be careful. Without it being steadied, there’s a chance it’s caught on your stitches. If you try and push it, or remove it yourself… I… I need to get it out. Ideally, I need to re-examine you, to make sure there’s been no further damage, but I understand if you can’t do that.” He took a deep breath as he moved closer, eyeing me warily, like a flighty animal. “But at the very least, it needs to be removed. And if you’d prefer, I can put you under to do that – but I’d really rather not, given that you took so long to come out of your induced coma. There’s a slim, but very real, risk that you won’t wake up again.”

I hesitated, watching him carefully. “… Restrain me.”

Startled, he paused, one foot comically suspended above the floor. “… Why?”

“I can’t die. Not now. And I can’t… I can’t risk hurting you again – hurting you more. So use your glowing whip thing, and restrain me. It’s the only way we’ll get through this.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’ll likely make the… You’ll probably remember more.”

“Stephen.” I met his gaze steadily, the ECG slowing as an eerie calmness set in. “Just do it.”

Slowly, his hands began to move. “You’re sure? Once I start… I can’t stop suddenly if you change your mind. I don’t think we’ll get another shot at this.” I sighed in acceptance, resting my head back against the bed, letting my knees part once more, wincing at the pain inside me.

The lash burnt against my skin, and I cried out, gritting my teeth against the scream as it wrapped under the bed and secured my other wrist, tight and immovable.

The binds around my legs snaked up to my knees before they grew taut, holding me still.

Helpless.

Stephen met my eyes, and I nodded around the trembling of my body.

“Well, well, well. I’m glad I could be the first.”

The HYDRA man, with his dark eyes and tangled hair, was one who favoured me.

I cried, trashing against my bindings, but they held fast.

His rough hands on my thighs, pushing and parting, made me freeze. “You’ve always been so good to me, little girl. Let’s hope they didn’t ruin that perfect hole.”

“Please… Please. I’ve always been good, like you said. But I can’t… Not now. It hurts. It hurts so much.”

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m going to make it feel better.”

It hurt. God, it hurt so much. It felt like he was fucking me with a hot poker, burning everything away. Unmaking me.

Maybe now you have learned your lesson.

You? It was… It was you? You did this?

An insurance policy, in case you survived. I wanted to make sure nobody would ever be able to touch you again.

“Fuck you,” I hissed aloud, vaguely aware of the faint sensation of pulling between my legs. “Fuck you. I’ll heal, and I’ll screw him again. I will make love to that man every day.”

Not if it hurts too much, you won’t.

“You wanna bet? I’ll scream and cry and do it anyway. I’ll let him put it somewhere else. We will find a way, together, because the Red Room will not fucking win. The Soldier will not fucking win. And you – you will not fucking win.”

“Nat?”

I opened my eyes, squeezed shut as I had shouted, to find Stephen hovering over me, his blue-grey eyes full of concern. “Are you with me?” I smiled weakly, and nodded.

“I’m here. I’m with you.”

“I’m all done. Are you… Can I remove the restraints?” I nodded again, and the tension released from my limbs, leaving me to slide myself into the proffered gown as he averted his gaze. Sighing, he removed his gloves, slumping into the chair beside me, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I murmured, dragging the thin blanket back over myself with a wince.

He glanced up, nodding slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The sutures are intact, and healthy, for the most part. They’ll finish dissolving over the next few days. There was some minor bleeding during our… Interruption, but it should be fine. If there’s any issues, you know where I am.” He sighed again, leaning forward onto his knees. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, then nodded, then shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“That last part… You spoke aloud. It sounded as though you were arguing with someone.” He smiled weakly, standing once more. “It also sounded like you won.”

My own grin was hesitant, thin and painful. “Maybe not the war… But I think, maybe, the battle.”

He waved his hand, a circular seal over the door brightening and then snapping from existence. “Oh, that - I had to block the door,” he explained, when my eyebrow arched curiously. “You started screaming, and Barton tried to get in.”

On cue, the door flew open, and my archer bolted into the room, his knife brandished and ready. “Nat?” he questioned sharply, his head turned to me, but his gaze firmly on the wizard, who simply began to circle his hands to open a portal.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, and then, inexplicably, I sobbed. “I’m not fine. But it wasn’t him, Clint. It was… It wasn’t him.”

Strange turned to us briefly, his sympathetic gaze flicking between us both. “I will take my leave. Natasha… You know where I am, and I shall see you later this evening – no examination required, I promise. Don’t forget; no walking. Clint… Take her home. And look after this one; she’s been through enough. If you harm her, it won’t just be her you have to contend with.” A last long, pitying look at me, and a rub to the bruise forming quickly on his pale throat, and he was gone.

Clint was gentle as he could be as he manoeuvred me into his bedroom, but that didn’t stop me wincing at the pressure.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered, bundling me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

I nodded hesitantly, leaning into his chest. “I’m okay,” I answered softly. “…Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Can you take me to the bathroom?”

“Ah. I forgot about that,” he admitted, chuckling, and placing a tender kiss to my hair. “Sure thing.”

He kept me in his arms, nestled lovingly against him, and I couldn’t help the soft purr of contentment that built in my chest. “What do I… Shall I leave? I’m not supposed to leave you alone, but I can… Stand outside?”

I rolled my eyes playfully as he placed me lightly on my feet, kissing his cheek. “I need your help. With my gown,” I added, as a panic-stricken expression crossed his face.

“Doesn’t it… Go up?”

“I want to see,” I explained softly, smiling weakly as he winced. “You don’t have to, but… I need to.”

He hesitated briefly, then placed a chaste kiss to my shoulder blade as he moved to stand behind me. “Together, Little Spider. Always.”

Fingers brushed my skin as he moved my hair away, slowly undoing the bow at the nape of my neck. I held the gown to my front as his arms slipped inside, hands gingerly finding my hips, his chin against my  shoulder. Our eyes met in our reflection and he nodded gently.

I flinched as the fabric hit the floor, taking in the macabre map of black sutures wound like rivers across my body, the flesh around shaded with blues and yellows. Between old and new, there was barely an inch of skin left unmarred and unmarked. The inside of my biceps were a furious red between the stitches, my abused arteries protesting their forced closure. The curve of my breasts were intersected by dividing lines, the nylon knotted beside each discoloured nipple. Further wounds trailed by abdomen, ending in a crooked, three-inch line where my pubic hair used to be. And beneath all that, there was bones. Miles and miles of sharp, protruding bones, my ribcage on display and hips sharp enough to cut glass.

You’re a fucking horror show.

I am what you made me.

I winced again, gaze flicking to my partner uncertainly.

His face was a mask of impassive emotionlessness as his eyes roamed my body, hesitating only briefly on each new stitch, before finally meeting my own once more. “…Well?” I prompted, throat bobbing in the mirror before us.

His hands traced my abdomen lightly as they snaked around, holding me in his arms as gently as he could. “What do you think?”

“I think…” I swallowed dryly, a low, fearful tremble working its way through my muscles. “I think I need help.” He nodded slowly, patiently, leaving me the opportunity to continue. “I think… It’s a terrible thing, what I’ve done to myself. And I think…” I took a deep, steadying breath, the shakes subsiding slowly. “I think I must be really strong to survive all of this. Stronger than I realise.”

He smiled at last, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I agree… But there’s something you forgot.”

I frowned, turning in his arms carefully, my suture-tight muscles refusing to raise further than his waist. “What’s that?”

Hand finding my jaw, his lips brushed mine, sweet and loving. “As I believe I’ve said once before… You’re beautiful, Nat. You will always be beautiful to me.” His thumb skirted my cheek, catching a tear shed unconsciously, before kissing the damp spot.

“Now… Let’s get you to bed, little one.”

[ckameley]

When I was in middle school I had hypochondriac-tendencies about my health that I grew out of by the time I got to college. I now recognize that part of my worries were caused by how I wasn't nourishing myself well (which I have been able to do since I returned home for the COVID shutdown in 2020) and because I was struggling physically and emotionally from my periods (which have improved since I started taking birth control that make my periods less severe and less frequent -- it's actually horrific how many years I and other teenage girls are left to struggle with their periods and are expected to just deal with it -- my periods complicated my relationship with my gender identity and made me want to get a hysterectomy)

It just hit me that doing research on macaques who we should assume possesses a life-threatening illness hasn't been good for my peace of mind because ANY change in my health I'm thinking "dear God please don't let this be an early manifestation of Herpes B"

Thankfully I'm fine and have been careful to take the necessary precautions to prevent exposure, but you never know...