#pancreas replacement

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

I think one dynamic that isn’t talked about enough with all the Medic ships (except maybe MedicSoldier/MedicPyro just because Solly and Py can be just as unhinged) is Medic’s partner being freaked out. Yeah, they’re all gross old fucks but even in the comics, Heavy was visibly uncomfortable with Medic’s forced mpreg BS. The idea of Spy or Demo being absolutely freaked out by Medic doing some dubious shit while trying to be supportive is so funny to me. Especially Spy considering he’s a bit of a prissy bitch sometimes

Ehhh I feel like this does come up a lot in my experience, it's just usually in that "Medic does some crazy shit to whoever his partner is and they aren't really into it, and OOPS it's actually secretly a sex thing for him because He's Eeeeevil™️" way, which is quite common and leads into a territory I'm not fond of. I definitely can see it being utilized more in other contexts, tho, I think heavymedic kinda loses its magic if you never have Heavy try to reel him in a little bit (and I think he'd be one of the only ones successful in doing so)

[prettymunchkin]

A fatty liver can be improved by incorporating nutrient-rich foods that promote liver health. Top choices include leafy greens, which help reduce fat accumulation, and fatty fish, high in omega-3s that lower liver inflammation. Walnuts are rich in antioxidants, aiding liver detoxification, while garlic enhances liver enzymes to flush out toxins. Finally, avocados contain healthy fats and glutathione, essential for liver repair. Adding these foods to your diet can significantly support liver function. For expert advice, Dr. Bipin Vibhute, a renowned Liver Transplant Specialist, provides specialized guidance to help manage and heal liver conditions effectively.

[danceurselfclean]

if i didnt have diabetes o think by now id be a beiatiful hunk of meat but instead i am cursed to be this freak. Whatever …… well whatever.,, Well, like i said its just whatever.. umm yeah anyways… anyways….

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

For fun, I wanted to think through which organs Darth Maul is actually missing. This gives us clues as to which bodily processes he just doesn't have anymore, which ones he's using sith juju to make up for, and what Talzin or Death Watch might've done for him with the prosthetics. To be fair, humans have about 70 to 80 possible organs systems (don't ask), but who knows what zabrak have, and where they truly are located. We can only guess.

✓ Means he probably has this.

X Means he probably doesn't have this.

O Means he probably only has some.

(Checklist and conclusions below the cut.)

✓ Adrenal glands (above the kidneys)

X Anus

X Appendix

X Bladder

O Bones

O Bone marrow (spongy part of the bone)

✓ Brain

✓ Bronchi (tubes in the lungs)

✓ Diaphragm (muscle of breathing)

✓ Ears

✓ Esophagus

✓ Eyes

✓ Gallbladder

X Genitals

✓ Heart ( 2 of them!)

✓ Hypothalamus (in the brain)

O Joints

✓ Kidneys

O Large intestine

✓ Larynx (voice box)

✓ Liver

✓ Lungs

O Lymph nodes

O Mesentery (Nerves, vessel, & fat storage in gut)

✓ Mouth

✓ Nasal cavity

✓ Nose

✓ Pancreas (hormones/enzymes)

✓ Pineal gland (in the brain- hormone production)

✓ Parathyroid glands (hormones, in the neck)

✓ Pharynx (back of the throat)

✓ Pituitary gland (in the brain, hormones)

X Prostate

X Rectum

✓ Salivary glands

O Skeletal muscles

O Skin

O Small intestine

O Spinal cord

✓ Spleen (big blood filter)

✓ Stomach

✓ Teeth

✓ Thymus gland (immune training, in the chest)

✓ Thyroid (hormones, in the neck)

✓ Trachea

✓ Tongue

O Ureters (Kidney to bladder tubes)

X Urethra

O Ligaments (connect muscles to bones)

O Tendons (connect bones to bones)

✓ Blood cells

✓ Hair (Uhhh... horns? I guess he has eyelashes?)

✓ The vestibular system (of the ear)

X Testes (unless zabrak locate them internally)

✓ Nails

X Vas deferens (testes to genitals tube)

X Seminal vesicles (semen fluid production)

X Bulbourethral glands (makes preejaculate)

X Penis

X Scrotum (if zabrak keep the testes externally)

✓ Parathyroid glands (neck, hormonal)

O Thoracic ducts (Where lymph flows into veins)

O Arteries

O Veins

O Capillaries

O Lymphatic vessels

✓ Tonsils

O Nerves

O Subcutaneous tissue

O Olfactory epithelium (nose)

✓ Cerebellum

Long story short, besides just his legs and genitals, Maul lost most of his digestive and urinary systems.

He actually kept almost all of his life-critical organs, so whatever sith voodoo he was doing to stay alive on Lotho Minor was probably focused on fighting off sepsis (due to the unclean end points of his digestive system. Remember he got cauterized by a lightsaber so assume he had to make... new holes. There may have also been some self-done surgery to reconnect what remained of his large and small intestines.)

The loss of his testes, if he indeed had human typical location for them, could have proven a growing problem, considering that they make 90% of a man's testosterone, and that's needed just to have normal amounts of energy.

The digestive track is also a problem, as the gut microbiome is where a lot of neurochemicals are produced. For example, 95%~ of the body's seratonin is produced in the gut. Lacking huge chunks of his small and large intestine means that Maul had poor absorbtion of nutrients, and probably needed to eat all the time just to get a fraction of the calories and nutrients from his food.

So. He lived on the edge of starvation due to a truncated digestive track, had low energy, mood imbalances like you wouldn't believe, and constant sepsis. I'm sure the acid rain being the only source of fresh water was also just, so helpful.

I assume, by the lack of black veins on him afterward, and (sort of?) stable mood, that talzin might've regrown some of his gut and fixed the end point issues. Later on, Death Watch (being mandalorians) might've given him more robust life support systems that included testosterone replacement and cybernetic genitals. Seems like what they would do for their own people.

Possible lingering complications? I assume he has a VERY weird relationship with food. He had spider legs for twelve years, so bipedal motion probably fails him sometimes. Back pain. Phantom leg pain. Nerve junction issues. Immune system weirdness (from all that missing marrow, and a long stint with sepsis). Issues storing fat. Talzin yoloed his brain back to sane-adjacent, so mental health is... I mean. Yeah. Triggers. Teeth prone to chipping and cavities (from malnutrition and acid water). Possibly goes to the bathroom once a day and urinates like a race horse. Issues with being touched, myriad phobias, and a squirrelly libido.

Did I miss anything?

[thecoulrologist]

Can clowns be diabetic? Do they have pancreases?? Do they have blood??

(For context, type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disorder, that stems from the pancreas and affects blood sugar among other things.)

Clowns can indeed develop diabetes!

If you know or have a diabetic clown, you can replace standard processed sugars with more natural sugars like agave, maple syrup, honey, or fruits! However, I would avoid 'artifical sweeteners' because these can increase the risk of stroke and heart disease!

[feralrabidcrow]

Hello internet stranger! I have a headcannon question for you about the hit 2007 valve game tf2!

Do any of the mercs have a “major” incident (ex: Burning, breaking a window, illegal organ donations)? And what things have been banned from the base because of that incident?

Soldier's list for this is pretty long. Soldier is not allowed to use the microwave, Soldier is not allowed to drive, Soldier is not allowed to create a raccoon uprising, Soldier is not allowed to run around the base naked and covered in honey, Soldier is not allowed to tackle people without giving them fair warning, Soldier is not allowed to... et cetera, et cetera. Does he ever follow these rules? Certainly not!

Pyro's access to flammable material is heavily monitored when they aren't at work, and there's a fire extinguisher right outside their dorm room. Their walls are covered in burn marks, but with the diligence of a certain next door Friendly Engie, we haven't had a repeat of the Great Teufort Fire since '68!

The real reason why Medic operates without anesthesia is because no one trusts him enough to go to sleep on his operating table ever since Scout's liver and pancreas went missing after what was supposed to be a simple kidney stone removal. Of course, he replaced them with newer, better, probably less human ones afterwards, but not everyone is as eager to be a guinea pig as Heavy is!

Sniper isn't allowed to drive off into the wilderness for the weekend without leaving a note of where he's going, the first time he pulled that off there was a lot of chaos and Miss Pauling lost 3 years off her life stressing over why one of the mercenaries was just gone without a trace, meanwhile he just wanted to get away from it all and spend his weekend off camping. So much for 'be professional', right?

[senor-plume]

Drank

for twenty odd years I was an alcohol abuser lost my healthy pancreas lost my left hip and replaced it with a metal contraption I used a cane for a long while I threw up often …foamy sickness in the sink I turned jaundice one morning and was rushed to the hospital stayed for three nights while my urine was coffee brown and my body shook from nerves and withdrawal I drank every night every goddamned night and then after becoming yellow I quit cold turkey just like that and now the thought of booze touching my tongue gives me the heebie jeebies sober since 2006 and there are days (like today) when I look back on that dizzy time of my life and thank the powers that be for walking alongside me guiding me to much needed sobriety and I no longer spend my days in a hangover cloud I no longer wait for 7:00 PM to arrive so I can crack open a fresh can of Milwaukee Holy Water and wait for the slurring to begin I’m a sober cat, now dry belly without beads of beer hanging onto my beard (who would want to kiss that anyway?) so, this morning as I downed my second mug of coffee I realized that I am stronger than I had ever thought and I kicked some serious booze butt Not too shabby, Kid Not too shabby at all

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Eleven

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Train

Summary: Sebastian, Ciel, and (Y/N) find themselves dealing with multiple issues on a single train.

Mouse Note: Who saw the first Down Bad Sebastian moment?

            “Young Master, would you care for a cup of tea?” asked Sebastian, pouring the tea perfectly despite the movement of the train. “I personally feel the scent of this Williamson Magor Darjeeling, picked in the summer…” He smiled lightly as he saw Ciel wasn’t paying attention. “Young Master, we are simulating a pleasant train journey. If you do not wish to draw the criminal’s notice, you should look a little happier.”

            “I know,” huffed Ciel.

            “Are you that concerned about the Trancy family?” asked (Y/N), nose twitching at mentioning the family. The Trancy family was the one who had taken his soul and attempted to take him. It wasn’t a coincidence that they should be involved in other criminal activity or underground business, for the Queen or for themselves.

            “No,” denied Ciel. “It does bother me, but not that much. Right now, the Queen’s orders take priority.” He parted the curtain and peeked outside the compartment. A man was glancing around nervously. “That man must be Lord Ackroyd. The kidnapped child is his only son.”

            “ ‘If you notify the police, I will kill the hostage. Board this train with the ransom,’ ” quoted Sebastian from the ransom letter. “So the criminal instructed him. And the ransom is five thousand pounds.” He smirked. “You could say that is the price they have set for a soul.”

            (Y/N) grinned, their sharp canines showing at the comparison.

            Ciel ignored the demons’ antics. “The criminal is most likely on this train. We will find him, apprehend him, and save the hostage. That is the only way to relieve Her Majesty’s grief.”

            At least this “Queen” is a good replacement. The other was easily manipulated by a fallen angel, thought (Y/N). “Indeed,” was the only thing they said, however.

            Ciel stood. “We’ll go to the dining car. I’m hungry.”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian followed him as they exited the compartment and went into another car.

            “It could be called the discovery of the century!” said a man pompously to an enraptured crowd around his seat. “I found the Pharoah Smenkhkare asleep in the Valley of the Kings!” He laughed boisterously.

            “He’s boasting about desecrating graves. Talk about bad taste,” remarked Ciel.

            “I met the Pharoah once, when he was alive. He was a most affable and virtuous person,” said Sebsatian. He considered the glimpse of the sarcophagus and mummy he’d seen earlier. “Still, even though he appeared quite dehydrated, his features were quite different.”

            “I always did like the Egyptians,” commented (Y/N).

            “Because you got them to worship you for a while?” said Sebastian with a smirk.

            “Well, of course. It was quite fun being worshipped,” said (Y/N), smiling coyly.

            Sebastian was not one to let his pride go, but the idea of worshiping them he’d get on his knees for (Y/N) if they asked him wasn’t terrible. Of course, he wouldn’t be opposed to them worshiping him, either. Equality in treatment and respect was imperative to a relationship. That and Sebastian couldn’t decide whether the idea of being on his knees for them or seeing them on their knees for him was more attractive, so both would have to do.

            “Sebastian, the Pharoah’s features were different?” said Ciel, interrupting them before they ran away with their strange conversations of past demonic travels. “You mean that was a fake? So, you’re saying he’s the criminal?”

            “I cannot be sure just yet,” said Sebastian.

            “Oh!” a gasp from beside them drew their attention. Another man in a seat had wild eyes as he looked at a book. “The train that left St. Pancreas Station at 9:00 will meet the tracks bound for Cambridge on a level crossing at 10:18 near Bedford! Oh! This is thrilling! I can’t miss it! The train will arrive at Derby Station at 13:05. Oh! There will definitely be a delay! Judging by the station workers and the weather, this will be tough. Maybe seven minutes?”

            Ciel deadpanned. “Is he reading the timetables?”

            “He seems to have a curious attachment to railroads,” said Sebastian in amusement.

            Ciel sighed and walked forward, slightly nudging a parcel at a passenger’s feet. “Hey, what are you doing?!” cried the man.

            (Y/N) bowed. “You must be from Japan. What a fine arabesque-patterned furoshiki you have there.”

            “Don’t touch it! It’s an important family treasure,” huffed the man.

            “I am sorry. He is always so stubborn.” A little old woman walked up to them. “Please accept this by way of an apology.” She held up some food.

            Ciel stared awkwardly, so Sebastian interjected, “Thank you, but it is quite alright.”

            “Oh really?” The woman tottered over to another passenger. “Then, how about you take some? I still have many left. I have some with dried bonito and plum. Please, help yourselves!”

            “I don’t want any,” said a passenger as she pushed the food into their face. “Didn’t you hear that cholera is raging in Japan?”

            “Don’t you dare accuse us—!” The woman’s wife stormed out of his seat.

            “Please, stop this.” A priest stood up from his seat. “Don’t you think it’s rude to treat travelers from such distant lands in this manner?”

            “Shut up! Stay in your place!” shouted another passenger.

            “A passage from the Bible says that travelers are fortunate,” continued the priest.

            “The 14:45 trail will…!” The excited clamor of the man obsessed with the timetable was drowned out by the rest of the drama.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. Humans were always so nosy.

            “It must be destiny that we met on this train!” declared the priest, extending his arms.

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. He had a tattoo. Priests didn’t have tattoos. Naughty, naughty. Playing a priest~

            “Oh, my.” Sebastian smirked as he noticed the same thing.

            “Everybody, please calm down!” cried a new voice as a man threw open the car door. “Cool down and sit down!” He flounced through the corridor between seat. He took of his hat to reveal a face that was nearly identical to the late-Abberline’s apart from a mustache. “It’s no wonder you’re so tense! A murderer is being transported on this train.”

            Everyone froze. They had not known that.

            “But he’s under strict police surveillance. He can’t move a muscle,” said not-Abberline. “So, you really don’t need to wo…” He trailed off as he saw the passengers’ expressions.

            “Run!” The passengers ran from the car, nearly trampling not-Abberline. (Y/N) and Sebastian smoothly stepped to the sides, and Sebastian picked up Ciel under the arms.

            Ciel blinked and deadpanned as he was set down. He stared at the trampled man. “That man is…”

            Not-Abberline popped up. “Oh! You’re the Phantomhive!”

l

            “Eating this eel pie is so nostalgic,” said not-Abberline. The group had migrated to the dining car to discuss the situation on the train so Ciel could have all the facts for his own case. “Traditional English cuisine tastes like Mother’s cooking. By the way, that was quite the kerfuffle.”

            Ciel deadpanned. “And who was the cause of that?” He collected himself. “Anyway, Lord Randall will reproach you for having a meal with me.”

            “Not at all. Actually, I’d like to get to know you better. My twin brother was always talking about you,” said not-Abberline. “I’m Fred, by the way, if you don’t want to call me the same name as him.”

            Ah, so that’s why he looks like Abberline, thought (Y/N).

            “Twin? I can’t believe another vexing man like that exists,” said Ciel.

            “Ah, I wish my brother could eat this, too,” sighed Fred.

            Right. Abberline is dead.

            Ciel narrowed his eyes and glanced at Sebastian and (Y/N). The message was clear: Fred had no idea about the kidnapping they were investigating. At the same moment, his gaze caught on the only other passenger in the dining car: a man in a dark cloak and hat with glasses.

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed and slid to the man with Sebastian. Golden eyes stared back at them. Claude Faustus of the Trancy estate. Demon butler. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as Claude’s gaze rested firmly on (Y/N).

            “What is it?” said Ciel.

            “Nothing,” said Sebastian, turning back to him with a calm smile. “Shall we go then, Young Master?” Ciel nodded and stood.

            “That’s not good, Phantomhive. You should rest after eating, otherwise your stomach will hurt,” said Fred, still eating himself.

            “This train is certainly full of suspicious passengers,” remarked (Y/N) as they returned to their compartment.

            “Yes,” agreed Ciel. “A tattooed priest. A bogus archeologist. An unsociable Japanese man. A man who gets excited reading train timetables. Everyone is so blatantly suspicious.”

“And we have a murderer aboard, too,” reminded Sebastian.

            “Excuse me,” muttered a man, squeezing by them with a cap pulled low over his face, the back of his hand scuffed.

            Ciel’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the man’s sleeve. “You were working at the station earlier.” Finny had bumped into him and a box had fallen on his hand. “Why are you on this train, dressed like a traveler?”

            “Damn!” cursed the man, taking off down the hall.

            “He’s the culprit!” said Ciel, running after him. He flung open the door of the car, but the man had already uncoupled the next car, and it was falling away from the main train. “Don’t let him get away, Sebastian, (Y/N)!”

            “Very well,” said Sebastian.

            “He’s ours,” said (Y/N).

            The demons jumped from the end of the car to the platform on the other. They opened the door to find the kidnapper trying to get the money from Ackroyd, who nervously clutched the bag. (Y/N) smoothly pulled the gun from the kidnapper’s pocket with such deftness that neither man took notice. They pulled back the hammer behind the man’s head, and he froze.

            “Now, now, let’s not be talking about a little boy’s life when yours is the one on the line,” purred (Y/N) with a smile.

            “H-How did you…” The kidnapper held up his hands, stammering over his words.

            “Where is the child you are holding hostage?” asked Sebastian amiably.

            “O-On that train,” replied the kidnapper. “But it’s too bad. You won’t be able to save him.”

            Sebastian’s gaze darkened. His contract was also on that train. “Which is to say?”

            “I planted a bomb on that train that will blow up when it stops,” said the kidnapper. “I thought it’d be nice to have some fireworks after swindling this guy out of his money.” He cackled gleefully.

            Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “The train will arrive at the next station in ten minutes.”

            “Take tha—!”

            The kidnapper’s laughter was cut short as (Y/N) smacked him over the head with his gun. They picked up his body and tossed it out the window. “I don’t have time for fools,” they said.

            “Let’s go,” said Sebastian. He and (Y/N) leapt out the window and began running across the train tracks. They had a train to—quite literally—catch.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

[06theloser]

1st Post!

first time posting art and its gay! Yay!

This is my Ben 10 oc Mark Yamamoto with Ben himself.

I haven't fully settled on if they're gay together, but Mark is Queer and I hc Ben as Bi so who knows 👀.

Mark is Julie's "d3ad" cousin whose body was preserved and used for Galvin science and studies on humans(there's a reason the Galvin's took him). His damaged organs, bones, and spinal nervous system where replaced with Galvin tech. He now has these retractable arms that grow from his spine, most of his bones replaced with metal replicas, and his large intestine, pancreas and bladder were also swapped with identical tech replicas that work with the human body to function.

Mark lived on Galvin Prime for a year after his "resurrection", then was transferred back to earth to work at Plumbers Headquarters as a scientist. He reunites with his cousin Julie, and reintroduced to Ben, who only met him once briefly when he dated Julie. Mark is also introduced to Gwen, Kevin, Blonko, Eunice, and Lucy(who bonds with him immediately). Mark now spends most of his time with Ben, Eunice, Lucy and Julie, who Mark quickly identifies as his close friends. He works well with Rook, Gwen and Max, seeing them as respectable colleagues. He bumps heads with Kevin, although often finding himself on the same wavelength of sarcasm as him.

FEEL FREETO ASLS ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MARK I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS!!!

I don't usually sketch a whole page like this and was heavily inspired by @cryptid-paint Please look at their bad end au I love it so much 💛💛💛

[number-one-fan-of-heavy]

DONT INJECT THE DEMOMAN WITH BIRD BRAINS, MEDIC, NOOOOOO

I said no such thing! I am only replacing his liver and pancreas again, and maybe will experiment with some supplements along the way...

Demoman went from needing severe medical attention almost twice a week to maybe once a month! His insides are still disgustingly dysfunctional, but they learned how to work off of fermented yeast instead of water.

[potatowithahat]

A Gift

A hannigram fic

Hannibal decided to get will a small gift for valintines

A Gift- nothing more, nothing less

This was too far. Hannibal had gone too far this time.

        ���February 14th, 2014, 8:05 P.M. Will Graham speaking on behalf of the Federal Bureau of investigation. Start tape. Body was found at Sugarloaf Vineyard outside of Winchester, Maryland”

        Jack Crawford gestured for Will to come forward.

        “Another victim of the Chesapeake ripper?” Jack asked, gesturing to the body lying in the makeshift bed of roses Set deep within the thousand rows of grapes.

        The body was that of a young man. He had brown, curly hair that moved ever so slightly in the brease of the Vineyard, swaying as if to a gentle melody.

His hair had been cut short to emulate Will’s, most likely post mortem if the ringlets encircling his head had anything to say of it. There was a crown of thorns on his head, The spines digging into that line Will knew all too well.

        He reached up to touch the almost invisible scar on his own forehead.

        “Most likely” Will said, lifting the tarp to examine the rest of the body.

        He made a mental note to remind the interns not to disturb his crime scene.

        Not that he could certainly see why they had decided to cover it up.

The scene was… gruesome, to say the least. The man was splayed open, much like that of an autopsy cadaver, his guts scooped out and rearranged into a.. Scene?

        His pancreas was laid out like a twisted dinner table in the hollow center of the man. His third and fourth ribs had been carved and propped up to look like tiny people, plated made out of the lungs alveoli set out in front of them. In the center of the ‘table’ lies another bone figure, this time in the shape of a small girl, her ‘Head’ lying on one of the plates. The rest of the organs were laid around like grotesque party decorations. His small intestine was draped over the open carcass like party streamers, swaying in the breeze and making a sickening, squelching noise as it brushed against the other viscera. There were small dove feathers tied together with the man's vocal cords to replace the missing ribs, splattered with the blood dripping out of the surrounding muscles.

        The man's body had been meticulously dissected and rearranged into a macabre display. It was… a work of art, really. Each piece was delicately cut and placed with such precision that it had to have taken hours to cultivate. It was a gift. A gift hand-made and crafted specifically for him.

        “It’s disgusting” Jack chimed in from beside him, snapping Will out of his stupor.

        “...It's ostentatious” Will mumbles as one of the assistants camera flashes, forever immortalizing the scene.

        Hannibal would expect him to come home with a copy of that photo. He knew it.

        “The killer… He's showing off. Trying to impress someone” Will knew he had to tread lightly here.

        “Makes sense to leave it on Valentines then” Beverly chimes in as she leans forward to get some sort of sample

        “Trying to impress someone I'd do it today too. Only if they were another killer though" Jack gives Will a look.

        Will had to have great reticency to stop himself from saying something too revealing then

        “I’m sure” He mumbled, looking at the body once more

        “Hearts missing” Will looks around the group “Anyone find it?”

The silence after his question was practicaly deffining

        Will knew what he'd be having for dinner then.

        Will let out a sigh “How’d he die?”

Beverly looked up from where she was swabbing “Poison” she nodded to the man's face “Staining around the mouth. Classic silver poisoning”

        She stands up fully and points to his neck “There's evidence of strangulation too, but it's innocuous. His windpipe wasn’t crushed, so there was no damage other then the bruising”

        “Someones like Will then” Price chuckled and elbows Will in the side

        “What i do in my own home is none of your concern” Will frowns and walks around to the other side of the corpse “ and you three should know best that me and Hannibal don’t do that stuff” he repudiated “not all gay people are like that”

        Price snorts “I call bullshit. You can’t deny it forever”

        Jack shot Price a look “We’re not here to debate personal lives Jimmy. This is a death investigation, not brunch”

        There's a soft murmuring from the rest of the groop

        “That's what I thought” Jack looks up at Beverly “How long has he been out here?”

        “No longer then a day” beverly pokes at the man’s cheek “Though he’s been preserved somehow”

        Will frowns at that “How was he out here so long?”

        Beverly looks around “my guess is the vines obscured the body. And the smell was masked by the grape blossoms.

        Of course it was. His husband always knew what he was doing. Will looks around “He's smart” he steps back from the body as he feels a buzz in his pocket “He knows what he’s doing. Most likely another chesapeake ripper case”

        Will turns away from the groop, much to the chagrin of Jack

         Will sighs as he puts his phone to his ear “Yes hanni?”

        He can practically hear the smile on Hannibals face, his strange accent thicker than ever “Did you like my Gift, ma colombe?”

        Why was this his life?

 “I'll see you at home hannibal” Will lets out a long sigh

“Oh good” Hannibal says quickly “I’m making Shepards pie. Picked up some nice pigs hearts from the butcher earlier”

“Im sure you did" Will sighs

Thank you so much for reading!!!

I am one hundred percent greatfull for every single person who takes the time to read the things I write!

This was actually written for an English assignment! So if some of the wording seems a bit off thats why.

I am also always open for any fic idea's/ requests!!! I absolutely adore getting them and write them as quickly as possible

As always if you enjoyed i have plenty more here on my tumblr and bacon over on my Ao3!

[garnetea]

if these lights could cry.

who yandere! trafalgar law x fem black! y/n. length 606 words! warnings i promise i really tried to make him in character okay.. i'm not even in the timeskip *sobbing*. angst/gore. and don't be horny about the boob contact, this is not glorification. unprofessional & dangerous surgery description. organs and blood and poetry and blaaaaah. no consent. unconscious reader. and insinuations of the reader dying that's you ;).

leman's letter! a little pre-description would be: yandere! law touching y/n in places "only they know", and turns out it's a surgery just so he can feel her organs, knowing he's the only one capable of caring for her inside and out. and the only one she must trust to do so at that, since she sleeps so soundly in his bed, with them being lovers and all. surely that's more than trust? surely it's consent? really, regardless, who is she to refuse a check-up if it's doctor's orders?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ★

Loosen your will, lose your drive; drift like lost wood and sink like an angel's feathered spine. Spiders thrive where memories spin forlorn, pearlescent webs of regret, and in that case, el hospital de tu corazon is a cave for bats and daddy long legs.

Spread your arms. Some sedation would do you well, wouldn't it?

Spread your legs. Some fucks to give would last this doctor the rest of the night.

Spread your belly button. Your guts, splice them. Your eyes- no, sorry, we won't dice them..

You're a prepossessing little patient with a particularly possessive, perfectionist lover. But you, you're so perfect, what is there for the doctor to heal or mend or replace? Not a single discrepancy in your spleen, your pancreas is in as little pain as preferred, your thoracic cavity is as hollow as a lost soul. And your heart.

"There's the fun part."

His hands, riddled with letters of death and intentions of.. something akin, softly palm the naked elegance of your breasts. Although consumed by anesthesia, your nipples naturally harden beneath the newfound company, slowly tightening and tickling against his palm creases. Yet he presses deeper- harder- urging your chest into the density of your thoracic cavity until he's sure you should fall apart from the pressure.

Yellow lamps see it all. Hanging from the ceiling, adding to the ambiance of your impending quietus. No amount of flickering or buzzing from the dust-worn bulbs could warn the lingering spirits of those who came before you. Are you to be an exception?

An incision-- no.. three slabs. Just skin, it's just skin, just cells, just tissue. Just an organ- an organ or two. Or five.

He's a doctor, isn't he? He must be sure you're pumping blood where it's due, not swelling or oozing where you shouldn't. Checking off his list: no tumors or cell degeneration, no irritable cysts or parasites. If this means sliding that annoying latex over his hands to ensure you're safe and sound inside and out, he's more than acquiescent to oblige. Hell, to volunteer.

"Just lucky to have me, I guess."

..Debatable. Since one kidney is currently being toyed, twisted, poked, prodded, and pulled out of it's cubby behind your trampoline of a digestion bag. Oh, I mean stomach.

However, stomachs don't usually get sliced open with silver scalpels just for the fact of doing so. Do they? Perhaps "digestion bag" is more appropriate, since you open up quite widely.

Biopsy's vary. Could be fifteen minutes, could be thirty.

For you, more hours fly past than fingers on your limp hands. Spiders crawl into the winter sunrise, abandoning you and your yellow lights of worry to run silent on misery and immobility. Resting points in between the achingly intimate hours hold no weight; they're only for letting your sensitive body lay and recuperate, with your limbs spread apart and numb like you're ready for the slaughter house. You're too perfect to take so much time out of Doctor Trafalgar's day and night. Or perhaps it's because you're so unprecedented in faultlessness that you must amount to such a duration of focus.

He's had to redistribute anesthesia more times than he's enjoyed; you're such a handful. Surely you realize everyone has their reason to lose control.. Which cakey clump of you is pushing his limits this time?

"Jeez, Y/n, don't get so worked up. Going into cardiac arrest again just wastes more time. I can re-attach your heart to the left atrium in a second." A slowed stutter coruscates in his hand like a newborn baby's first and last breath, and he chuckles, comparing your blood hungry heart to such with lidded, heavy, restless eyes. "You're about to turn this into an exhumation."

★ garnetea productions. all rights reserved, do not plagiarize.

[prettymunchkin]

Maintaining liver health is crucial for overall well-being. To keep your liver in top shape, follow these tips: eat a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, and avoid excessive sugar and saturated fats. Limit alcohol consumption, stay hydrated, and engage in regular physical activity to maintain a healthy weight. Avoid self-medication, and be cautious with over-the-counter drugs. Regular check-ups and vaccinations can also help. Dr. Bipin Vibhute, a renowned Liver Transplant Specialist, emphasizes the importance of early detection and healthy lifestyle habits to prevent liver diseases and ensure long-term liver health.

[scoobydoodean]

So I did a poll on this not that long ago, but now that I have finished 3.15 on this rewatch, I thought I'd give my two cents on what Sam was planning in terms of using Doc Benton's alchemy to make himself and Dean immortal. I think the following details are pretty damn important.

First, Sam lies to Dean about his sense about the case. He does so by omission—he "neglects" to state that he thinks Doc Benton is responsible for the bodies that are turning up and lets Dean believe they're hunting zombies. But Sam knew this was Doc Benton—or at least he heavily suspected it. This is why, when the coroner shows them the latest victim has been cut with the precision of a scalpel, not teeth, Sam starts to look excited. Of course, Sam also admits he suspected Benton all along after Dean confronts him about it. Sam denies it at first but does a bad job of covering his dishonesty because he's not very good at lying to Dean. Now—one possible interpretation here is that Sam "didn't want to get Dean's hopes up". Sam sort of implies this when he says, "I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure". But... Sam thought they were dealing with Benton, and given that John had had a previous run-in with Benton, it actually would have been extremely easy to convince Dean to go on this case without lying about who the M.O. was actually suggesting to Sam. Which to me, means... maybe not wanting to get Dean's hopes up is what Sam tells himself, but... it's not a particularly logical or sensible explanation. Sam could have easily concealed his interest in Benton's alchemy while admitting he thought it was Benton from the get go.

The reason I think Sam doesn't admit it is at least partly that he wants to slowly ease Dean into the idea of studying Benton's alchemy. He (rightly I think) assumes that Dean isn't going to like what Doc Benton does, and the longer Dean has to think about Doc Benton and what exactly he does, and the longer Dean is in "hunter" mode with Benton as his targeted prey, the more disgusted and wrathful Dean's going to become. Sam thinks that if he can direct the narrative a little, where they're "stumbling" across a possible method of saving Dean, he can warm Dean up to the idea of looking into Benton's science—science that Sam knows is very likely to involve some really fucked up shit.

This leads me to a second important detail, which is how exactly Sam thinks this immortality thing "buying them time" is going work:

I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century...

But... this is argument is predicated upon a completely false premise. There are two things Sam and Dean both know without a shadow of a doubt at this point in time:

Hell hounds are coming for Dean in three weeks and they're going to rip his body to shreds.

Nothing about Benton's method of achieving immortality prevents his body from being torn to pieces. That's the entire reason he's been harvesting people's organs for decades in the first place. Parts get damaged or start falling apart, and then Benton has to replace them.

So when Sam refers to a pancreas Dean's going to need in "half a century", he is completely denying a very obvious reality. It isn't going to be 50 years. It's going to be three weeks, and then Dean's going to be torn apart, and then he is going to need a whole slew of new body parts and organs. In other words, when Sam refers to some pancreas Dean is going to need in 50 years, he is either stupid, fully in denial because he's so desperate to find a way to save Dean, or is basically shouting, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" hoping Dean won't catch onto the very inconvenient flaw in Sam's plan.

Personally, I don't think Sam is stupid. I also don't think his initial attempts to conceal who he thought was the culprit in the case he found lend to reading this in a way where Sam doesn't actually grasp the consequences.

In 3.11 Mystery Spot, we saw Sam say "Then let's go get some" when Not!Bobby said they could summon Gabriel to get revenge for Dean by finding someone and bleeding them dry for a spell. And we'll see Sam make more plays, going forward, where yes, other people might bite it so his brother can live... but that's a sacrifice Sam is willing to make.

That said, my personal opinion of what Sam was really thinking in 3.15 actually falls somewhere between Sam being in denial and Sam very much understanding the consequences of the plan he's forming and being okay with those consequences. I think in a sense, both are true. On the one hand, I think Sam knew deep down exactly what he was willing to do to keep Dean alive. On the other hand, I don't think Sam ever looked at his own reflection in the mirror on this. Sam suggesting Dean won't need an organ for 50 years and they're just "buying time" somehow isn't just what Sam wants Dean to believe so maybe he'll agree... it's what Sam needs to believe too as he slowly eases himself into the idea of using Benton's alchemy.

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I will replace your kneecaps with plush rabbits.

kneecaps this and kneecaps that, don't any of you have appreciation for the more obscure parts of the body? I'll replace your pancreas with a plush rabbit.

[w4nder1ng50ul]

September 14, 2024: On my recent trip to Chicago, former lives, spirits that walk the halls, and the road before me.

"Some day soon, perhaps in forty years, there will be no one alive who has ever known me. That's when I will be truly dead - when I exist in no one's memory. I thought a lot about how someone very old is the last living individual to have known some person or cluster of people. When that person dies, the whole cluster dies,too, vanishes from the living memory. I wonder who that person will be for me. Whose death will make me truly dead?” ― Irvin D. Yalom, Love's Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy

In my 22 years on this earth, how may lives have I lived? How many more will I live? What is it that truly quantifies a life? Did one end and another begin when the doctors told me my pancreas had stopped working and my life would be changed forever? Or Perhaps when I left the familiar childhood home, with its forests and glades and grasslands that was always big enough to capture my imagination, and now replaced it with an apartment complex, buildings stood erect in metric order, bird song replaced with sirens outside my window.

I do believe a new life began last year, however. When I started college (for the second time) and have learned truly what it means to live and to be alive. I suppose this will work as a proto-poem of sorts, ramblings with ideas. I used to be doubtful that I'd live past the age of 30. I felt there was no future for me, except to perhaps become a spirit that wanders the halls that some may feel now and again. But now, after going to Chicago for the first time in my life - I see. I see how the world - my world - is larger than the hometown that offers nothing, or the college that is my entire life. Maybe, just maybe, my time hasn't yet come.